The Meticulous Plan
***
Early dawn, Korean time, at The Times. The newsroom was buzzing more frantically than ever.
President Jo Dong-uk gripped his trembling voice and asked Department Head Kim, “How’s the extra edition printing going?”
“Everything’s ready, sir. We just need to distribute them.”
“And the Hwang Young-ho special edition?”
“Yes, President…”
Department Head Kim, with over twenty years as a reporter, couldn’t wrap his head around this absurd situation.
“Sir, I’m sorry, but the marathon’s just starting. Is this really the right call?”
Jo Dong-uk didn’t respond. He just stared at the TV, tearing at his hair.
“We’re following the vice chairman’s orders, so we have no choice… Honestly, I don’t get it either. Let’s just watch the race first.”
“If Hwang takes gold, great. But if he doesn’t, this could cost us big—way more than a few bucks.”
“The vice chairman’s never been wrong. There must be something he knows; that’s why he gave the order before leaving.”
“If he nails this one too, no fortune-teller could hold a candle to him.”
“Tell me about it. I see the guy every day, and I still can’t figure out what’s going on in that head of his.”
“Let’s watch the race first.”
“Hwang has to win… He must win.”
Kang Min-ho had pulled off a bold strategy no one else would dare attempt: issuing an extra edition and a special Hwang Young-ho edition.
The special edition detailed Hwang’s background, JK Group’s sponsorship, and even Chairman Kang Jin-gwang’s involvement in exhaustive detail. Hwang might be the gold medal hero, but no one could deny JK Group’s sponsorship made it possible. It was perfect image-building, propelling them to national hero status overnight.
The key was the distribution timing. The moment the gold was confirmed, extras and specials would flood the nation. It seemed simple, but speed and credibility were everything. While other outlets were still writing articles, The Times would already be on doorsteps. It was incomparable.
They were making history—no precedent in Korean media for such a feat.
[Hwang Young-ho has started from Montjuïc Stadium.]
Jo Dong-uk’s heart raced as he fixed his eyes on the TV, biting his nails and double-checking the note Min-ho had left.
Distribute the special edition and extra the instant he passes 30K.
Sports were unpredictable, beyond human foresight. Even leading, one slip could change medal colors. If that happened, The Times would be a laughingstock, its credibility shattered.
But the worry didn’t last long. Min-ho’s prediction was unfolding.
Whoa! Hwang Young-ho’s in the lead pack!
“President! Hwang’s surging ahead!”
He passed 20K, claiming first as Min-ho predicted. 10K remained—time for Jo to act.
Despite the cheers, Jo couldn’t relax. Clutching his anxious chest, he glued his eyes to the screen.
[Hwang Young-ho of Korea has passed the 30K mark!]
Now it was Jo’s call: follow Min-ho’s risky order or defy it.
After agonizing, he spoke heavily. “Kim, start distribution. Contact Semin Shinmun too.”
“Sir, the race isn’t over. He’s leading, but it’s back and forth…”
“It’s the vice chairman’s order. He’s never been wrong. If this blows up, I’ll take the heat.”
“Sir, even so…”
“Start now.”
“Understood.”
And so, the extras and Hwang Young-ho specials hit the nation.
***
Kang Myeong-seon’s residence. The moment Hwang Young-ho’s gold was sealed, it was dawn in Korea.
Myeong-seon, no sports fan, slept soundly, oblivious.
The phone rang in the dark house. Waking grumpy, she tried smothering it with her pillow, but it persisted.
“Who the hell calls at this hour?!”
Eyes closed, she grabbed the receiver. “Hello! Do you know what time it is?!”
“This isn’t time for beauty sleep. Turn on the TV.”
Kang Du-seong’s deep, heavy voice boomed.
Myeong-seon bolted up. “Big bro? What’s up this late?”
“No chatter. Turn on the TV and see for yourself.”
“World War III? Fine, hold on.”
She flicked on the TV. There was Hwang Young-ho and Chairman Kang waving the Taegukgi, cheering.
Still groggy, Myeong-seon blinked. “Why’s Dad there?”
“You know he went to Europe on business?”
“Yeah, Spain or something. Don’t tell me that’s why.”
“If I knew, would I call you now?”
“Good for us. Group promo, and hey, Son Ki-jeong’s there too.”
Clueless to Min-ho’s scheme, Myeong-seon just grinned at the screen.
Du-seong saw it differently. Dad never cared for sports—yet he sponsored and flew to Barcelona. No way he planned this alone. Moon Sang-oh must be involved, he figured.
“Why would Dad, who hates sports, go to Europe himself?”
“For promo. Lucky break. What’s your beef, bro?”
“Not some event—it’s like he prepped for a marathon gold.”
Myeong-seon sighed at his nonsense. “What, ghosts eating walnuts? You saying Dad predicted Hwang’s gold? Get real.”
“Circumstances point that way.”
“Bro, I get Dad’s got killer instincts. But this? Impossible.”
“No, Moon put him up to it.”
“Moon’s no psychic. Drop it, I’m sleepy.”
Du-seong landed a zinger. “If this is Moon’s plan, what then?”
Rumors swirled Moon took the butler job to siphon secret funds, but Myeong-seon brushed it off.
“I know, I know… You hate Moon. But if he were trouble, it’d have blown up already.”
Du-seong had proof: extras from Semin Shinmun and Hwang’s special in hand.
“Know what I’m holding?”
“Bro, please, let me sleep. Meeting in the morning, busy day.”
“Hwang crossed the finish less than an hour ago. I’ve got Semin Shinmun extra and special. Coincidence?”
“What? No way… Hold on.”
A chill hit her. She dropped the phone, slipped on slippers, and rushed out.
Seeing Semin Shinmun and The Times special in the yard, goosebumps erupted. Gold time vs. distribution? Impossible.
Sudden marathon sponsorship. Unexpected Barcelona trip. Perfectly timed papers.
Her mind reeled. ‘Moon’s thorough, but not this… Wait…’
All signs pointed to one person.
“This… isn’t Moon. It’s Min-ho…”
***
Montjuïc Stadium. A perfect drama.
Fifty-six years after a youth bowed in shame, Hwang Young-ho eased the nation’s pain. He shook off a trailing Japanese runner to claim gold—joy beyond words.
The stadium thundered with applause, followed by Hwang’s interview.
-Your thoughts on winning gold?
[First, thanks to JK Group Chairman Kang Jin-gwang for sponsoring me. Without him, I wouldn’t be here.]
-Son Ki-jeong’s here too. How’d that help?
[Met him pre-race, got advice. His presence made it special.]
History’s witness Son Ki-jeong. Montjuïc’s hero Hwang Young-ho. Sponsor JK’s Kang Jin-gwang.
Side by side, Taegukgi in hand, they walked the track slowly.
Overwhelmed, Kang Jin-gwang patted Hwang’s shoulder. “You did splendidly, my boy. Outstanding.”
“Thank you, sir. Without your support, I might’ve quit midway.”
“Such a polite soul… It’s your talent that brought this blessing.”
“Thank you. Back in Korea, I’ll visit to thank you properly. And…”
Hesitating, Hwang spoke up. “Remember what you said before?”
“Of course. Gold gets ongoing support, coach and refs paid off, house for each. Think I won’t deliver?”
“No, sir.”
“You’re too pure. No worries there.”
“Thank you, Chairman.”
“Aye, this’ll do for me. Greet Son properly, do the interview. Dinner later?”
“Yes, sir. See you soon.”
Kang Jin-gwang, steeped in history, overflowed with emotion.
Under tight security back to the stands, flag-waving fans cheered.
-Thank you, Chairman!
-Hwang got gold thanks to you!
“Thanks. It’s your cheers that made it possible.”
Back in the stands, no need to explain how his grandson looked now. Min-ho crafted this miracle.
He rushed and hugged him tight. “You gave your lucky gramps a massive gift.”
“Like it?”
“Like it? Overflowing—drenched.”
“One more gift.”
“Not another gold from Young-ho…”
Moon Sang-oh arrived with secretary reports, briefing Korea.
Kang Jin-gwang asked incredulously, “Sang-oh, that’s no lie, right?”
“Confirmed moments ago. Extras from Semin Shinmun and Hwang special hit exactly with the gold.”
Min-ho’s final gift: meticulous, brilliant, audacious. Beyond even his imagination.
As grandpa and chairman, his heart swelled more than for the gold.
“Like the gift?”
“Like it? Breaking the biggest story first? No contest. Prepped for this?”
“Yes. Sales boom, media clout skyrockets.”
“How’re you so clever? Melting my heart.”
Kang Jin-gwang beamed widest, stroking Min-ho’s cheek.
“Name anything. Mansions? Yeongdong tower? No—buy you a company to run.”
“Later for that. My wish is different.”
“Anything, I promise—it’s yours.”
Min-ho outsmarted again. “Get a checkup back home. Buildings and land? Grandpa’s health matters more.”
A grandson fretting health over cash. How not to adore him?
Kang Jin-gwang’s grin ear-to-ear, throat bobbing in laughter. Uncontainable joy.
“Sang-oh, hear that? How sweetly our Min-ho speaks…”
“Loud and clear.”
“He’ll melt me to an early grave.”
Min-ho clasped the smiling grandpa’s hand. “Grandpa, tide’s turning in Korea, right?”
“Damn right. Time to row.”
“Dinner flight tonight. Airport’ll be packed waiting for you.”
From Barcelona’s historic moment, Kang Jin-gwang boarded for Korea, gripping Min-ho’s hand tight.