Park Woo-Chul’s career couldn’t be more impressive than what it was now. Ten years ago during the IMF crisis, he took the steps needed to get promoted to department head as soon as he was transferred to the Seoul District Prosecutor’s Office. He was selected as the head of the Central Investigation Department of the Supreme Prosecutors’ Office in his mid-forties, which was an unprecedented promotion, but people claimed that he should’ve been promoted earlier as his father was Park Choong-Sik, the President of Finance.
The topic of the meeting was about the outbreak of mad cow disease. It had begun with the spread of videos of people abusing cows in the U.S. along with the information that it could be contagious by air. The scale of disputes taking place from all levels of society was alarming. Even a large candlelight vigil had been reported at Cheonggye Plaza a week later.
Prosecutor personnel led by Park Woo-Chul poured out from the conference room on the fifteenth floor. Anyone could tell Park Woo-Chul was a core figure in the prosecution community. The Public Prosecutor General was even keeping pace with Park Woo-Chul. When he stopped, everyone stopped.
“Didn’t I tell you to make Kim Ji-Ae attend today’s meeting?”
“Yes.”
Park Woo-Chul’s secretary was quick as he found Ji-Ae and brought her to him. Ji-Ae was a new prosecutor who had been commissioned in May last year. Although her judicial training score was excellent, newbies usually worked around the district prosecutors’ office in Incheon and Gyeonggi-do before entering Seoul if their grades weren’t extremely outstanding. Also, only a lucky few who had connections or had a great job evaluation could enter Seoul.
However, Ji-Ae had started at the Seoul Prosecutor's Office and was called to the Supreme Office right before this meeting.
“Hello, Chief. I’m Kim Ji-Ae in the Department of Public Security Three.”
There were prominent figures surrounding Park Woo-Chul, and Ji-Ae couldn’t hide her nervousness as she had been commissioned for less than a year. Park Woo-Chul told others to step back, and he began walking with Ji-Ae side by side.
“Should I have called you first? You should’ve said hi earlier,” he remarked.
Ji-Ae’s eyes blinked quickly since she had introduced herself to Park Woo-Chul when she first entered the Department of Public Security.
I think he’s talking about a private greeting, not an official one…
In fact, novices couldn’t even privately say hi to Park Woo-Chul as he was at the top of the hierarchy. Even the Public Prosecutor General felt diffident in front of him.
Ji-Ae’s thoughts became complicated for a moment. After receiving her commission last year, she had been assigned to the Seoul Office despite expecting that she’d be placed at the local office. Moreover, she had been invited to the Supreme Office, the dream stage for all prosecutors, within one year of working. She had even been designated at the Department of Public Security, which was considered one of the two prominent prosecution authorities along with the Department of Internal Affairs and Communications.
However, such a series of events was only possible for those who were born in a cradle of gold. Ji-Ae had grown up in a very ordinary family and neighborhood. When she had passed the bar exam, a congratulatory banner had been hung at the entrance of the village.
Really? No, no way…
Ji-Ae became suspicious of one thing, and she began to feel uncomfortable and scared about what was in the corner of her mind. She suspected that the head wanted to have a sexual relationship with her. The highest authority was asking for a private seat.
Then, what should I do?
She answered quickly without showing any signs of bewilderment, “I’ll arrange a meeting soon.”
“Let’s have coffee now, then,” Park Woo-Chul said as he walked toward the coffee vending machine. Ji-Ae was having an even harder time understanding what was going on.
“I’ll do it.”
Ji-Ae hurriedly pulled out two cups of coffee from the vending machine. She handed a cup to Park Woo-Chul who was sitting on the bench in front of the vending machine, and she stood across from him.
“What don’t you have a seat?” he asked.
Ji-Ae was astonished inwardly as she had never imagined sitting with Park Woo-Chul. Considering that he even nodded to the spot beside him, he wasn’t joking.
However, Ji-Ae couldn’t sit next to him. Even though it was an order from her superior, people would look at them suspecting that something was fishy as their differences in position and status were too large.
“It’s okay.”
“Okay, then. How’s your work in the Department of Public Security Three?”
“I’m still trying to adjust. I’m learning a lot from the seniors.”
“Okay. I’ll move you to Division One as soon as you’re done adjusting, so try your best,” he said.
Ji-Ae was startled not only due to the unprecedented promotion but also because Park Woo-Chul was smiling at her. He was staring at Ji-Ae’s bewildered face. She was obviously panicking.
“It’s the place that controls this country. Of course, your responsibility will be heavy,” Park Woo-Chul continued. “It’s also a position that a regiment of people like us desperately need. I hope you’re ready. You can do your job while learning. It’s the mindset that counts. I’m asking if you can be one of us.”
It was an obvious invitation and a seductive movement to the center of supreme power. Ji-Ae was dizzy and thought that something had gone completely wrong. She didn’t know where the misunderstanding began but decided to correct it first. Although she could be sent to the rural districts for mentioning this, she had to correct it before it got too late.
“Chief, I’m Kim Ji-Ae who has just become a prosecutor, and I’m from Incheon. My father…”
Park Woo-Chul cut her off, “Your uncle, the president of Jeon-il Bank.”
Ah! Ji-Ae flinched.
When she had first been commissioned to the Seoul Office last year, of course, her uncle was the first person she thought of. Her uncle didn’t have a daughter, so he loved her. He gave her lots of pocket money during the holidays, and helped her financially when she grew up, such as paying for college tuition and cram school fees. Since he cared about her a lot, she once thought that he could have requested special consideration for her in the prosecution's office. He was a key figure of the Jeon-il Group, so he would have connections with the prosecution community.
However, her uncle told her that he had not done such a thing, and he wouldn’t have had enough authority to ask the prosecution’s office to transfer her to the Supreme Prosecutors’ Office. He was only her uncle, not her father.
She hesitated and asked, “You mean… my uncle?”
“Yes. Be careful not to ruin the Jeon-il Bank President’s reputation. Everyone is watching you. See you soon.”
“Thank you,” Ji-Ae answered.
When she returned to the office feeling quite puzzled, she felt like she couldn’t understand the chief’s attitude.
Does my uncle have this much power?
The chief was taking care of her just because she was the niece of Jeon-il Bank’s president. The chief was even directly affiliated with Park Choong-Sik.
Ji-Ae picked up her phone.
<Jeon-il: That’s not the position I can ask someone to give you. You must know that by now.>
<Ji-Ae: What do you mean? I’m just a newbie. I can never keep up with you, Uncle.>
<Jeon-il: But did the chief really say that? That’s strange. I should say thank you to Director Park. I think the director mentioned something earlier.>
<Ji-Ae: Thank you so much anyway. I’m getting lots of protection and help thanks to you.>
<Jeon-il: Nah, thank you for growing up so well, Ms. Prosecutor. Are you well?>
<Ji-Ae: Of course. How is Seon-Hu doing? Does he still visit Korea once in a while?>
<Jeon-il: Do you want to contact him yourself?>
<Ji-Ae: It’s okay. He must be busy. I’ll meet him when he comes back to Korea. He must have grown up a lot.>
<Jeon-il: His growth stopped in middle school. As you know, he grew up so much in a short period of time back then. Anyway, thanks for contacting me. I heard cousins are considered siblings these days. I’ll tell Seon-Hu that you are wondering how he’s been doing.>
<Ji-Ae: Okay. Take care, and I’ll call you again soon.>
<Jeon-il: Thanks, you too!>
Her uncle said he didn’t know anything about her transfer again, but Ji-Ae realized that he was the most important and powerful figure in Jeon-il as the chief had directly asked her how she was doing. Now that she thought about it more, she recognized the origin of favoritism in the prosecution community. Her uncle’s authority had to be greater than she was aware of.
“Thank you, Uncle,” she whispered.
***
Jamie Corporation, the Jeon-il Group’s overseas firm, had replaced the Goldstein family a long time ago. One piece of evidence was that Goldstein’s logo, which represented one of the Jewish funds that had infiltrated Las Vegas in the past, had now changed to a new one. It was difficult to notice as the casino and hotel names remained the same, but attentive people would have realized that the group had changed.
There were more things that were noticeable. It was easy to tell that a huge upheaval had occurred just by walking on the main street of Las Vegas, where hotels and casinos were concentrated. All the logos at places that used to be under the Morgan Group and traditional signs that used to belong to a family called the Hotel King had been replaced with the Jamie Corporation’s logo.
However, the public wasn’t interested in any of this. The world was occupied by staying on full alert regarding the U.S. government’s movements, and tourists didn’t care about the capital that dominated Las Vegas in the past.
There were only three things they were interested in: women, gambling and shows. I not only owned the hotel I stayed in, the landmark-like hotel across the street that attracted tourists with a fountain show, but also the hotel with the world’s biggest casino. Of course, they had different logos on them. It was the same for the energy, industrial products and food consumed there. They were produced by companies where my group was designated as the largest shareholder. In other words, everything here was circulating under the capital of one force.
Las Vegas was one of my small empires. The reason why this city was more satisfying than others was because the money never dried up as it wasn’t influenced by the economy. The glittering neon signs felt like they were welcoming the arrival of their owner.
***
Three days after taking a rest to recuperate myself from the fatigue of the dungeon conquest, I began playing at a casino and hung out with call girls at night. I looked like an Asian who spent money lavishly once every year, but I was famous for raking up an even greater amount there. When I suddenly stopped showing up on the floor, the hotel’s general manager came to my room himself.
“Sorry, Ethan. You have a guest.”
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“I stopped by out of concern as I couldn’t reach you. Please let me know if you need anything.”
At that time, my guest, who entered before the manager, turned around and showed his face. The manager knew him for sure as he was a hot topic in North America these days. He wasn’t a celebrity, but everyone knew his face. His Facenote didn’t even go through IPO, but he had created a new culture. Social networking services had turned him into a superstar. The fact that a young college student with a face full of freckles had become a billionaire overnight also brought him fame.
I smiled. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Edward Zuckerberg.”
The manager left after saying he would give Edward lots of perks if he wanted to stay at the hotel. In the case of Googol, I had no choice but to own a corporate stake at an equal level with the founders in order to motivate them.
However, there was no need to do so with Edward Zuckerberg and his co-founder. On a winter day five years ago, all they wanted was money and I wanted the highest stake in their firm. The deal on that day was simple.
Park Woo-Chul’s career couldn’t be more impressive than what it was now. Ten years ago during the IMF crisis, he took the steps needed to get promoted to department head as soon as he was transferred to the Seoul District Prosecutor’s Office. He was selected as the head of the Central Investigation Department of the Supreme Prosecutors’ Office in his mid-forties, which was an unprecedented promotion, but people claimed that he should’ve been promoted earlier as his father was Park Choong-Sik, the President of Finance.
The topic of the meeting was about the outbreak of mad cow disease. It had begun with the spread of videos of people abusing cows in the U.S. along with the information that it could be contagious by air. The scale of disputes taking place from all levels of society was alarming. Even a large candlelight vigil had been reported at Cheonggye Plaza a week later.
Prosecutor personnel led by Park Woo-Chul poured out from the conference room on the fifteenth floor. Anyone could tell Park Woo-Chul was a core figure in the prosecution community. The Public Prosecutor General was even keeping pace with Park Woo-Chul. When he stopped, everyone stopped.
“Didn’t I tell you to make Kim Ji-Ae attend today’s meeting?”
“Yes.”
Park Woo-Chul’s secretary was quick as he found Ji-Ae and brought her to him. Ji-Ae was a new prosecutor who had been commissioned in May last year. Although her judicial training score was excellent, newbies usually worked around the district prosecutors’ office in Incheon and Gyeonggi-do before entering Seoul if their grades weren’t extremely outstanding. Also, only a lucky few who had connections or had a great job evaluation could enter Seoul.
However, Ji-Ae had started at the Seoul Prosecutor's Office and was called to the Supreme Office right before this meeting.
“Hello, Chief. I’m Kim Ji-Ae in the Department of Public Security Three.”
There were prominent figures surrounding Park Woo-Chul, and Ji-Ae couldn’t hide her nervousness as she had been commissioned for less than a year. Park Woo-Chul told others to step back, and he began walking with Ji-Ae side by side.
“Should I have called you first? You should’ve said hi earlier,” he remarked.
Ji-Ae’s eyes blinked quickly since she had introduced herself to Park Woo-Chul when she first entered the Department of Public Security.
I think he’s talking about a private greeting, not an official one…
In fact, novices couldn’t even privately say hi to Park Woo-Chul as he was at the top of the hierarchy. Even the Public Prosecutor General felt diffident in front of him.
Ji-Ae’s thoughts became complicated for a moment. After receiving her commission last year, she had been assigned to the Seoul Office despite expecting that she’d be placed at the local office. Moreover, she had been invited to the Supreme Office, the dream stage for all prosecutors, within one year of working. She had even been designated at the Department of Public Security, which was considered one of the two prominent prosecution authorities along with the Department of Internal Affairs and Communications.
However, such a series of events was only possible for those who were born in a cradle of gold. Ji-Ae had grown up in a very ordinary family and neighborhood. When she had passed the bar exam, a congratulatory banner had been hung at the entrance of the village.
Really? No, no way…
Ji-Ae became suspicious of one thing, and she began to feel uncomfortable and scared about what was in the corner of her mind. She suspected that the head wanted to have a sexual relationship with her. The highest authority was asking for a private seat.
Then, what should I do?
She answered quickly without showing any signs of bewilderment, “I’ll arrange a meeting soon.”
“Let’s have coffee now, then,” Park Woo-Chul said as he walked toward the coffee vending machine. Ji-Ae was having an even harder time understanding what was going on.
“I’ll do it.”
Ji-Ae hurriedly pulled out two cups of coffee from the vending machine. She handed a cup to Park Woo-Chul who was sitting on the bench in front of the vending machine, and she stood across from him.
“What don’t you have a seat?” he asked.
Ji-Ae was astonished inwardly as she had never imagined sitting with Park Woo-Chul. Considering that he even nodded to the spot beside him, he wasn’t joking.
However, Ji-Ae couldn’t sit next to him. Even though it was an order from her superior, people would look at them suspecting that something was fishy as their differences in position and status were too large.
“It’s okay.”
“Okay, then. How’s your work in the Department of Public Security Three?”
“I’m still trying to adjust. I’m learning a lot from the seniors.”
“Okay. I’ll move you to Division One as soon as you’re done adjusting, so try your best,” he said.
Ji-Ae was startled not only due to the unprecedented promotion but also because Park Woo-Chul was smiling at her. He was staring at Ji-Ae’s bewildered face. She was obviously panicking.
“It’s the place that controls this country. Of course, your responsibility will be heavy,” Park Woo-Chul continued. “It’s also a position that a regiment of people like us desperately need. I hope you’re ready. You can do your job while learning. It’s the mindset that counts. I’m asking if you can be one of us.”
It was an obvious invitation and a seductive movement to the center of supreme power. Ji-Ae was dizzy and thought that something had gone completely wrong. She didn’t know where the misunderstanding began but decided to correct it first. Although she could be sent to the rural districts for mentioning this, she had to correct it before it got too late.
“Chief, I’m Kim Ji-Ae who has just become a prosecutor, and I’m from Incheon. My father…”
Park Woo-Chul cut her off, “Your uncle, the president of Jeon-il Bank.”
Ah! Ji-Ae flinched.
When she had first been commissioned to the Seoul Office last year, of course, her uncle was the first person she thought of. Her uncle didn’t have a daughter, so he loved her. He gave her lots of pocket money during the holidays, and helped her financially when she grew up, such as paying for college tuition and cram school fees. Since he cared about her a lot, she once thought that he could have requested special consideration for her in the prosecution's office. He was a key figure of the Jeon-il Group, so he would have connections with the prosecution community.
However, her uncle told her that he had not done such a thing, and he wouldn’t have had enough authority to ask the prosecution’s office to transfer her to the Supreme Prosecutors’ Office. He was only her uncle, not her father.
She hesitated and asked, “You mean… my uncle?”
“Yes. Be careful not to ruin the Jeon-il Bank President’s reputation. Everyone is watching you. See you soon.”
“Thank you,” Ji-Ae answered.
When she returned to the office feeling quite puzzled, she felt like she couldn’t understand the chief’s attitude.
Does my uncle have this much power?
The chief was taking care of her just because she was the niece of Jeon-il Bank’s president. The chief was even directly affiliated with Park Choong-Sik.
Ji-Ae picked up her phone.
<Jeon-il: That’s not the position I can ask someone to give you. You must know that by now.>
<Ji-Ae: What do you mean? I’m just a newbie. I can never keep up with you, Uncle.>
<Jeon-il: But did the chief really say that? That’s strange. I should say thank you to Director Park. I think the director mentioned something earlier.>
<Ji-Ae: Thank you so much anyway. I’m getting lots of protection and help thanks to you.>
<Jeon-il: Nah, thank you for growing up so well, Ms. Prosecutor. Are you well?>
<Ji-Ae: Of course. How is Seon-Hu doing? Does he still visit Korea once in a while?>
<Jeon-il: Do you want to contact him yourself?>
<Ji-Ae: It’s okay. He must be busy. I’ll meet him when he comes back to Korea. He must have grown up a lot.>
<Jeon-il: His growth stopped in middle school. As you know, he grew up so much in a short period of time back then. Anyway, thanks for contacting me. I heard cousins are considered siblings these days. I’ll tell Seon-Hu that you are wondering how he’s been doing.>
<Ji-Ae: Okay. Take care, and I’ll call you again soon.>
<Jeon-il: Thanks, you too!>
Her uncle said he didn’t know anything about her transfer again, but Ji-Ae realized that he was the most important and powerful figure in Jeon-il as the chief had directly asked her how she was doing. Now that she thought about it more, she recognized the origin of favoritism in the prosecution community. Her uncle’s authority had to be greater than she was aware of.
“Thank you, Uncle,” she whispered.
***
Jamie Corporation, the Jeon-il Group’s overseas firm, had replaced the Goldstein family a long time ago. One piece of evidence was that Goldstein’s logo, which represented one of the Jewish funds that had infiltrated Las Vegas in the past, had now changed to a new one. It was difficult to notice as the casino and hotel names remained the same, but attentive people would have realized that the group had changed.
There were more things that were noticeable. It was easy to tell that a huge upheaval had occurred just by walking on the main street of Las Vegas, where hotels and casinos were concentrated. All the logos at places that used to be under the Morgan Group and traditional signs that used to belong to a family called the Hotel King had been replaced with the Jamie Corporation’s logo.
However, the public wasn’t interested in any of this. The world was occupied by staying on full alert regarding the U.S. government’s movements, and tourists didn’t care about the capital that dominated Las Vegas in the past.
There were only three things they were interested in: women, gambling and shows. I not only owned the hotel I stayed in, the landmark-like hotel across the street that attracted tourists with a fountain show, but also the hotel with the world’s biggest casino. Of course, they had different logos on them. It was the same for the energy, industrial products and food consumed there. They were produced by companies where my group was designated as the largest shareholder. In other words, everything here was circulating under the capital of one force.
Las Vegas was one of my small empires. The reason why this city was more satisfying than others was because the money never dried up as it wasn’t influenced by the economy. The glittering neon signs felt like they were welcoming the arrival of their owner.
***
Three days after taking a rest to recuperate myself from the fatigue of the dungeon conquest, I began playing at a casino and hung out with call girls at night. I looked like an Asian who spent money lavishly once every year, but I was famous for raking up an even greater amount there. When I suddenly stopped showing up on the floor, the hotel’s general manager came to my room himself.
“Sorry, Ethan. You have a guest.”
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“I stopped by out of concern as I couldn’t reach you. Please let me know if you need anything.”
At that time, my guest, who entered before the manager, turned around and showed his face. The manager knew him for sure as he was a hot topic in North America these days. He wasn’t a celebrity, but everyone knew his face. His Facenote didn’t even go through IPO, but he had created a new culture. Social networking services had turned him into a superstar. The fact that a young college student with a face full of freckles had become a billionaire overnight also brought him fame.
I smiled. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Edward Zuckerberg.”
The manager left after saying he would give Edward lots of perks if he wanted to stay at the hotel. In the case of Googol, I had no choice but to own a corporate stake at an equal level with the founders in order to motivate them.
However, there was no need to do so with Edward Zuckerberg and his co-founder. On a winter day five years ago, all they wanted was money and I wanted the highest stake in their firm. The deal on that day was simple.
