Chapter 6 — The Stone-Headed Vice Chairman
Aseong Electronics.
There was a time when the company sat at the very top of the semiconductor industry, wielding overwhelming influence — but lately, its reputation had taken a sharp turn for the worse.
Aseong Electronics was chasing this quarter's numbers at the expense of future growth. With office-bound executives prioritized over the engineers and researchers on the ground, the company was sliding, bit by bit, down a long downhill slope. And as he sat in his office sipping coffee, listening to this chorus of concern and criticism pouring out of the television, Vice Chairman Woo Hyun-sik of Aseong Electronics frowned and spoke in a distinctly displeased voice.
"Secretary Kim. Do I really have to listen to this nonsense on TV first thing in the morning?"
"...My apologies, Vice Chairman."
Startled by his irritable reaction, the secretary hurriedly switched off the television. But with some professor or other having just savaged the semiconductor division he oversaw, his mood was already beyond salvaging, and he proceeded to nitpick at every trivial thing, taking it all out on his poor secretary.
"I can't stand the sight of you. Get out."
"Yes, sir... my apologies."
Right up until his scheduled meeting was about to begin, he spent the better part of thirty minutes berating the man and venting his spleen. But his temper, already twisted beyond repair, only soured further once the meeting itself got underway.
"Who wrote this report?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Didn't I tell you clearly last time? Stop littering reports with jargon and abbreviated terms only you people understand?"
"Well... the terms used here are standard throughout the semiconductor industry, so..."
"Is everyone in this room a semiconductor major? Someone here might not know them, which is exactly why I told you to write things so simply an elementary schooler could understand, or at least add footnotes with explanations. If you're going to drown the report in jargon, you might as well be telling anyone who doesn't know it to sit down and shut up. Is that what you mean?"
"..."
The vice chairman was even more prickly than usual, and no one dared say a word — they only exchanged nervous glances. Sweeping his gaze across the conference room, where the silence was so thick you could hear people swallowing, he clicked his tongue in displeasure and waved the report in his hand.
"And I understand there's a problem with mass-producing HBM, so why is there no countermeasure or solution in here? When you bring me a report, shouldn't you at least bring meaningful proposals along with it?"
"That is... as of now, there's simply no way to close the HBM technology gap with Bynix..."
"Isn't finding that way what I pay you for?"
"...My apologies."
"Does apologizing solve the problem?"
Thus began — and ended — the meeting, a one-sided dressing-down from Vice Chairman Woo Hyun-sik. In the frost-glazed atmosphere, the staff who had attended sat frozen-faced, terrified that the sparks might fly their way, unable to get a proper word in and merely bowing their heads.
"Tsk. Honestly, not a single one of you is any use. Bring me proper countermeasures by next week. If this is how you handle your work, how am I supposed to show my face before the Chairman?"
"..."
Everyone held their silence and kept their heads bowed. But since he had never been looking for an answer in the first place, he launched into a long-winded lecture at the entire room.
"You all know how Bynix stumbled into a bit of luck on the HBM front and is posting great numbers these days. And I hear we have more than a few employees inside this company running around saying they'd rather jump ship to Bynix — ungrateful little traitors, the lot of them."
"Young people these days have no company loyalty whatsoever. These so-called MZ kids whine about their performance bonuses shrinking a little, and they go on about work-life balance — never even considering overtime, then dropping everything the second the clock hits quitting time. Isn't that right?"
"All of this happens because of a lack of grit and effort. Grit. And effort. Is the capability of our Aseong Electronics really so feeble that we can't catch up just because we've fallen a few years behind in some HBM research?"
Vice Chairman Woo Hyun-sik was, in short, spouting pure old-guard nonsense. And as they listened, the staff thought to themselves:
'Who was it that gutted the HBM development team and shrank the division in the first place?'
'He made the mess himself, and now he's blaming grit and effort for it?'
'And yet the moment R&D spending looked even slightly excessive, he threw the biggest tantrum of anyone...'
Vice Chairman Woo Hyun-sik was, for all intents and purposes, the very man responsible for Aseong Electronics falling behind its competitors in technology. But utterly blind to that truth, what came out of their mouths was the exact opposite.
"Absolutely not!"
"How could that possibly be? If we mobilize the full capability of our research teams, we can close that trivial technology gap with Bynix in six months."
"Trust us with it, sir! We'll do our utmost to find a way to break through the current situation."
As if they'd been waiting for their cue, they spouted empty words and heaped on the flattery. It was obvious at a glance that not a word of it was sincere — but Vice Chairman Woo Hyun-sik, treating it as exactly the reaction he'd been hoping for, nodded with a satisfied smile.
"Good. That's more like it."
Having figured he'd knocked some discipline into his employees with a bit of spiritual re-education, the vice chairman glanced at his watch and asked, without much thought:
"Shall we wrap up the meeting here, then? Anyone have any suggestions, or anything they'd like to say?"
A perfunctory question tossed out to close things off before calling it a day. But at that question, a single hand rose uncertainly — and every eye in the room converged on it.
"Um... there is one matter I'd like to raise regarding next-generation semiconductor technology."
"Next-generation semiconductor technology?"
"Our department recently received a technology transfer proposal. To explain briefly..."
The head of Next-Generation Technology Development continued his explanation with a face wound tight with tension. Vice Chairman Woo Hyun-sik, listening with an odd expression on his face, cut him off before he could even finish.
"Hold on — that optical semiconductor thing, whatever it's called. Has the technology actually been verified?"
"Not at present, sir."
"And how much did they ask for, this unverified technology transfer?"
"They haven't demanded anything yet, but... the terms they've proposed to us are a lump sum of 100 billion won upon successful commercialization, plus a 15% royalty on net annual sales."
"100 billion? A 15% royalty?"
"They're insane..."
"Are they out of their minds...?"
The conference room erupted in a moment of uproar at the director's words. But as if he'd anticipated the reaction, he hurriedly pressed on with his supplementary explanation.
"Of course, I'm well aware that this sounds like an outrageous proposal. But if you read the report our department's researchers prepared after analyzing the relevant materials, you'll understand why I'm making such an absurd report at all."
He pulled a thick report from his briefcase. And as confusion spread across every face, Vice Chairman Woo Hyun-sik raised a hand to quiet them all.
"Bring it here. Let me see it."
"...Here you are, sir."
A report painstakingly prepared by the researchers under his command. Convinced that this could be the moment that ushered in a new golden age for Aseong Electronics — no, a golden age unlike any before it — he handed the report over to Vice Chairman Woo Hyun-sik with a face taut with tension.
"You there..."
The vice chairman took the report and skimmed through it for a moment. Then, turning to the audacious director who was watching him with an anxious expression, he said:
"You still can't present a report any better than this? Didn't I tell you not to use jargon only you people understand?"
And so the director's proposal — offered with courage and conviction out of genuine concern for Aseong Electronics' future — was dismissed in an instant. Along with a bone-chilling rebuke from a vice chairman who hadn't understood a single word of its contents.
> "We're sorry. I'm afraid the technology transfer you've proposed will be somewhat difficult for us."
"Hmm... I see. Yes."
> "Personally, I found your paper quite convincing, Professor, but most of the content remains theoretical, with little practical verification, so upper management is rather skeptical. If you could continue your research, obtain some concrete data, and then reach out to us again..."
"There's really no need to walk me through it in such detail. Still, thank you for viewing my paper favorably. Yes. Yes, of course. Have a good day."
> "No, seriously — they call this one of the top companies in the country, and it's just a den of drooling idiots? We spoon-feed it to them and they not only refuse to eat it, they spit it back out?"
The moment the call ended, Alex wore an expression of utter disbelief and flew into a rage. He reacted as though he'd just been dumped after a confession — but unlike him, I felt remarkably calm about the whole thing.
"Look at it objectively — the process was absurd. You just email a paper to some department's inbox and ask, 'I've developed this insanely awesome technology, wanna buy it?' Most people are going to think you're a lunatic, no?"
"Still, this is unacceptable! Anyone with a relevant background couldn't possibly fail to grasp how enormous the ripple effects of this technology would be."
"Compared to the latest semiconductor systems, roughly how many times better was the early version we presented in the paper?"
"At minimum, forty times in overall performance. In raw computing power alone, roughly one hundred twenty times."
Even in its most primitive, rudimentary prototype form, it was a monster that devoured the latest semiconductors whole and still had room left over. And perhaps because he understood that, the employee I'd spoken with on the phone had been quite courteous, at least.
"Anyway, don't take it so personally. It's not that they dismissed our paper as nonsense — it seems they were forced to reject it over internal company politics. If the higher-ups say reject it, you reject it. What choice did the person in charge have?"
"Ugh... this era really is a tough one, Grandpa."
"Well, it's not like there's only one semiconductor company in the world. Let's try reaching out to Bynix this time. Who knows? They might come running and beg us to sign a contract..."
Bynix — a notch below Aseong Electronics in revenue and sheer size, but sprinting furiously to overtake them and lately making waves across the industry as a rising star. As I opened my email on my phone to send them the same proposal, I happened to notice a newly arrived message — and without realizing it, I stopped mid-motion.
"Huh? What's this...?"
"Oh?"
Alex studied the email I was reading with narrowed, intrigued eyes, as if it were an unexpected surprise. Then, as if he'd known it all along, his face lit up and he kept smirking as he spoke.
"Yes! That's it! I knew it. Technology I brought over 600 years isn't going to stay buried. See? Someone out there has eyes capable of recognizing a gem hidden in the mud."
"I suppose so..."
"Ontel, huh... I hear they've been a bit stagnant lately, but they're not bad at all. Well, anyone with eyes like that can't be bad, right? Hehe."
Alex was grinning ear to ear, clearly delighted that someone had recognized the true worth of the technology he'd brought with him. Casting a sidelong, pitying glance at him, I read through the remarkably positive and cordial email from Ontel's contact, fired off an affirmative reply, and said:
"No need to pitch to Bynix separately, then."
A remark that, had Bynix's people heard it, would have made them cough up blood and scream that it couldn't be.