"Clap, clap, clap…"
The room filled with enthusiastic applause as the host's words sank in. They were cheering for Park Minho's bold triple play proposal, a concept that could reshape Korea's internet—and maybe land Minho in the history books. For scholars, the ultimate dream was to uplift the world when prosperous, and Minho's idea hinted at that lofty goal.
"Damn it!" Yang Ho-jin, the real estate boss beside Minho, seethed with envy. The spotlight should've been his, but Minho had stolen it with a single stroke.
The host, realizing a missed step, spoke up. "My apologies, I didn't catch your name earlier. You proposed triple play—if it's implemented, you could make history."
Minho nodded, his voice steady. "Park Minho, president of Hansung Technology, makers of the Hansung 2 Labor Edition phone."
Most in the room blinked blankly. Hansung? Labor Edition? The names meant nothing to these titans. Their world was too lofty for a small player from Gyeonggi Province. But one voice cut through—Big Kim of AliKor, visibly surprised. "You're the Hansung boss? The one behind the cheapest phone in history?"
Minho raised an eyebrow, caught off-guard that AliKor's CEO knew him. Big Kim was a whirlwind, always jetting off to give speeches. That he'd noticed Hansung was unexpected. "Seems Boss Kim's heard of us," Minho said with a faint smile.
"Your 29,900-won Labor Edition is impressive," Big Kim replied. "Its quality and design fit migrant workers perfectly, and that price? It's a game-changer. Farmers across Korea can afford it. You're doing good work."
Minho nodded, his tone earnest. "My dream is for every Korean to afford phones, computers, cars—a modern, prosperous life. That's what drives me."
Applause broke out again, softer but sincere. Minho's vision was ambitious, maybe even quixotic, but it struck a chord.
"Any other suggestions?" the host asked, moving things along.
---
As dusk settled, the summit's first day ended. Attendees trickled out, but the real work—networking—began. Front-row bosses were swarmed by eager back-row players, each pitching introductions or currying favor. It was a frenzy of ambition.
Minho, however, stood alone. His triple play proposal had briefly made him the center of attention, but as other topics took over, he wasn't drawn to speak again. Without further chances to shine, the crowd's focus drifted. To them, Minho's moment was a fluke—a lucky shot, maybe borrowed from someone else's idea. His company's modest rank, far outside the top 30, didn't help.
Compared to the front-row giants or even mid-tier bosses chatting animatedly, Minho's corner was a ghost town. No one approached, not even Big Kim, who'd praised him earlier. To Big Kim, Minho was likely just a curious footnote, not a peer worth engaging. Reality was harsh.
"Boss Xu, how's business?" a voice called out.
While back-row bosses fawned over the elite, front-row titans like Xu Hua of Saehan Mobile mingled with their equals. Xu Hua turned to see Mr. Lee, LenKor's CEO, approaching with a smile. Though LenKor was dipping into mobiles, their phones were small potatoes, so tensions between the two were low. Their relationship was cordial, at least on the surface.
Glancing at Mr. Lee, Xu Hua grinned. "A minor pest popped up in Gyeonggi Province, but it's nothing. In a month, I'll squash them."
"Gyeonggi pest?" Mr. Lee's eyes flicked toward Minho, who was rising to leave. He'd caught Xu Hua's drift. Minho, unaware, seemed to sense the jab, glancing their way briefly.
Mr. Lee, amused, prodded further. "What's your take on that Minho kid and his triple play idea?"
Xu Hua's smile turned sharp. "Triple play? A pipe dream."
He leaned in, voice dripping with disdain. "It sounds grand, but the costs of swapping out equipment aren't trivial. And it's just patching old systems. Sure, it might work short-term, but long-term? How many years can it last? Instead of sinking cash into triple play gear, we'd save more by building a new backbone network from scratch. That's the real fix.
"And don't ignore the politics. The three network giants—telecom, cable, internet—won't play nice. Integration threatens their profits. Who gets what after merging? The haggling alone could stall it forever. Triple play's a fantasy, nothing more."
Mr. Lee raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Xu Hua's blunt dismissal. Minho, now heading for the exit, didn't hear the critique, but Xu Hua's words hung in the air. To him, Minho's idea was a flashy distraction, not a threat. Saehan was gearing up to crush Hansung's phones with their own low-cost model. The summit was Xu Hua's turf, and Minho was just a blip.
Minho, though, wasn't shaken. His triple play pitch had done its job—putting Hansung on the map, even if briefly. The *Ultimate Imitation Emperor System* kept his phones unmatched, and his factory was scaling to 1 million units monthly. Xu Hua's smugness was noted, but Minho had bigger plans. The summit wasn't over, and he'd find another opening to prove Hansung was no small shrimp.
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(end of this chapter)