After finishing his discussion with Minister of Defense Ahn Yong-guk, Seok-won stepped outside with his party. A black Mercedes-Benz sedan that had been waiting nearby pulled up and came to a stop.
Settling back against the plush leather seat in the rear, Seok-won let himself relax as Ju Geun-seong, behind the wheel, smoothly guided the car forward.
By the time they exited the Ministry compound and merged onto a main road, Choi Tae-ho, president of Blue Space, who was seated beside him, glanced over hesitantly before carefully speaking up.
"Chairman… are you truly planning to go ahead with the construction of the Moseulpo launch site as it is?"
At the anxious tone in his voice, Seok-won turned from the passing scenery outside the window to face him.
Meeting the worried look on Choi's face, he responded calmly.
"You're concerned there might be disruptions to the plan."
As if waiting for the acknowledgment, Choi immediately nodded.
"No matter how ideal the site may be for a launch facility, if the local residents fiercely oppose it, won't it be difficult to proceed with construction as planned? On top of that, I've heard the Ministry of Defense already failed once, about ten years ago, when they tried to build an air base there. I'm honestly worried we'll be facing obstacles right from the start."
But unlike the anxious Choi, Seok-won appeared completely unshaken.
In fact, he even wore a faintly amused smile as he asked in return,
"If we give up Moseulpo, where do you propose we build the launch site instead?"
"Though not quite as optimal, Sacheon, Goseong, or Namhae County wouldn't be bad alternatives."
"At best, those would only be second-best options."
At Seok-won's indifferent response, Choi leaned forward, trying to persuade him.
"True, but it would still be better than having the project delayed indefinitely due to opposition from the residents."
Crossing one leg over the other, Seok-won shook his head.
"Do you really think moving the launch site to another location will make the project run smoothly without any problems?"
"Even so, wouldn't it still be better than Moseulpo?"
"My view is different. The degree of resistance may vary, but we'll face opposition from the locals no matter where we go."
With a serious expression, Seok-won looked directly at Choi.
"Unlike the United States, China, or Russia, where the sheer vastness of land makes such projects easier, South Korea is unfortunately a very small country with a population that far outstrips its land area."
He shrugged and continued.
"In short, no matter where we build the launch site, we can't avoid clashing with the local residents who have been making their living on that land."
At this sharp point, Choi Tae-ho was left without a word of rebuttal.
"Unlike Mosulpo, where more than half the proposed site already belongs to the Ministry of Defense, the other candidate locations are mostly private land. Acquiring those plots will be an uphill battle from the start."
"..."
"If we're going to face growing pains convincing the locals anyway, isn't it far better to build at Mosulpo, where securing the land is easier and the location is the most ideal?"
After mulling it over, Choi Tae-ho gave a slow nod, seemingly convinced.
"Now that you put it that way, I see your point. I wasn't thinking broadly enough."
Still, unable to fully set aside his concerns, he cautiously pressed on.
"Then… how do you plan to overcome the local residents' opposition in Mosulpo?"
As always, Seok-won wore an air of composure, a faint smile curling on his lips.
"Once the launch site is built, there will be a surge of employees and their families moving in, boosting the population. Tourism demand will grow, the economy will be revitalized—there are plenty of upsides. Why do you think the locals are still against it?"
"Well… for the residents who've been farming Ministry of Defense land for decades, it means suddenly losing their livelihood and being forced to leave behind their land for relocation elsewhere. Isn't that it?"
"Exactly. There may be several reasons, but the biggest factor is economic."
Seok-won folded his arms and added,
"On top of that, there are highly valuable historical sites, like the Altteureu Airfield and the April 3rd Massacre memorials. That makes the opposition even stronger."
"Then isn't that a huge problem?"
Choi Tae-ho's face stiffened.
Seeing this, Seok-won tilted the corner of his mouth into a sly grin and dropped a cryptic remark.
"That's precisely why we're buying up all 610,000 pyeong of Ministry of Defense land—not just part of it."
"...?"
That was exactly what President Choi Tae-ho had been wondering, so he quickly asked,
"But isn't that far too much land just for a launch site and related facilities? What are you planning to do with all of it?"
"I have an idea I came up with on the spot. Once the plan becomes more concrete, I'll explain it to you. For now, just leave persuading the local residents to me. You should focus solely on constructing the launch site and developing the space launch vehicle."
Seok-won spoke with unshakable confidence.
Choi found it hard to believe—after all, even the Ministry of Defense had failed to win over the locals and had ultimately abandoned their plans for an air force base there. How exactly did Seok-won intend to quell the opposition?
But this was Seok-won—if anyone could do it, it would be him. And seeing the man's resolute conviction, Choi decided to trust him and wait.
"Since you put it that way, I understand."
It was clearly going to be no easy task, but strangely enough, Choi couldn't shake the feeling that Seok-won would somehow find a way.
***
California, USA.
Inside a sunlit, glass-walled hotel meeting room elegantly furnished, two young men sat at a table with their lawyer, their faces tense with anticipation.
A middle-aged lawyer with horn-rimmed glasses gave the documents one final thorough review, then slid the contract across to his clients.
"Everything looks good."
At that, Landon, seated opposite them in a finely tailored suit alongside his staff, pulled a fountain pen from his inner pocket and placed it on the contract.
"Then, if you'll just sign at the bottom."
Robert Williams, a former hedge fund manager and now co-founder of the startup Confinity, was the first to take up the pen.
Though their company was barely three months old, it had already been valued highly enough to secure a massive investment of three million dollars. Williams couldn't hide his excitement.
Above all, the fact that Chairman Park Seok-won of Eldorado Fund—a legendary Silicon Valley venture investor known for big wins with Netscape, Yahoo, and Hotmail—had taken an interest in their fledgling company was an enormous encouragement.
After signing, Williams handed the pen to his co-founder, Thomas Shugart.
Equally elated that their idea had been recognized, Shugart didn't hesitate for a moment before adding his signature.
Once both men had finished, Landon broke into a broad smile.
"Then we're in the same boat now. My boss very much wanted to be here himself, but other matters kept him away. He was quite disappointed not to attend in person."
"We really hoped to meet him, but I suppose he must be busy. It can't be helped."
Williams looked genuinely disappointed.
As a former hedge fund manager who had risen to prominence on Wall Street through astonishing achievements, he had always admired Seok-won. He had been eagerly hoping for at least the chance to shake his hand, so his disappointment was sincere.
"Instead, he said that the next time he comes to California, he would like to have a meal with you and talk. So please don't be too disheartened."
"Really?"
Williams' eyes immediately lit up.
"We're always available—just let us know."
"Yes, of course. I'll rush over immediately."
Beside him, Sugart nodded vigorously in agreement.
Their expressions, full of anticipation as if waiting to meet a beloved idol, made Landon chuckle inwardly.
Given Seok-won's reputation, it wasn't surprising. Not only had he become a giant on Wall Street, but in Silicon Valley, he had made a name for himself as a venture investor who seemed to strike jackpots with everything he touched.
Even startups that had attracted no attention at all suddenly skyrocketed in value simply because they had received investment from Seok-won. Nothing more needed to be said.
With the investment agreement finalized, Landon headed for the airport in a limousine bound for New York.
Rolling up his sleeve, he checked the time on his wristwatch, mentally calculating the time difference. Then he took out his phone and dialed Seoul.
The call connected after a few rings, and Seok-won's voice came through.
[Hello.]
"It's me, boss."
[The contract went smoothly?]
"As I reported earlier, we valued the company at ten million dollars, invested three million, and secured a thirty percent stake. And, as always, we included the clause granting us priority in any future funding rounds."
[Good work.]
Landon, phone pressed to his ear, gave a casual shrug.
"It wasn't all that difficult. Just mentioning your name made their expressions change instantly, and they became so eager to close the deal that the negotiations were effortless."
[Ha ha ha. Is that so?]
Landon smacked his lips slightly, as if regretting something.
"To be honest, if I had pushed harder, we could've lowered the valuation and taken a larger stake. Part of me feels it's a missed opportunity."
[We're not investing for immediate gain—we're investing for the future. Maintaining a good relationship with the founders is far more valuable than squeezing a few extra dollars out of them.]
Seok-won might have called it "a few dollars," but in reality, it was common for people to exploit others for the sake of even a short-term profit.
Holding the phone in his hand, Landon smiled faintly.
"It's not just your foresight, boss. I think it's exactly that investment philosophy that makes entrepreneurs in Silicon Valley want to be chosen by you."
[Stop making me take planes—it makes me dizzy.]
"Haha, I was only stating the facts."
Leaning back against the leather seat, Landon shifted the subject.
"By the way, when the impeachment bill first passed in the House, I thought President Clinton was finished because of the Zippergate scandal. But after the First Lady, Amanda, went on television to defend him, the tide of public opinion seems to be softening."
Zippergate was the scandal in which President Bill Clinton's affair with a 22-year-old White House intern, fresh out of college, was exposed by the media.
As a result, President Clinton was charged with perjury and obstruction of justice, and with the Republican-controlled House voting for impeachment, he had found himself in a life-or-death political crisis.
[Inside, I'm sure she wanted to strangle her husband—but Amanda is far too ambitious to let his downfall drag her down as well.]
"I think so too."
Unlike other First Ladies, Amanda was active in public affairs and exerted significant influence over the administration's policies.
Because of this, it was an open secret in Washington that once President Clinton left office, she would likely enter the political arena herself.
"In that case, just as you predicted, it seems very likely the impeachment motion will be rejected in the Senate."
[For the bill to pass, two-thirds of the Senate—that's at least 67 votes—would have to be in favor. The Republicans may hold the majority, but with only 55 seats, the odds of passage are virtually nil.]
"If impeachment is struck down and that political risk disappears, the New York markets will gain even stronger momentum."
[The scandal hasn't had much direct impact on the markets, but it's been a lingering cloud. Once it clears, combined with the effect of rate cuts, the indexes will surge without resistance.]
With eager eyes, Landon asked, "How high do you think it'll go?"
[On the Nasdaq, I expect it to easily surpass 4,000.]
The words left Landon wide-eyed in shock.
He nearly dropped his phone before hurriedly tightening his grip and asking again, "D-did you just say it would go past 4,000?"
[That's right.]
At Seok-won's calm reply, Landon wore a look of disbelief.
And no wonder—the Nasdaq was already at a record high of 2,400.
If it were to surpass 4,000, that meant nearly doubling from here, an outcome too staggering to accept easily.
As he pictured what would happen if Seok-won's prediction came true, Landon unconsciously swallowed hard.
After ending the call, Seok-won stood by the window and took a sip from the can of beer in his hand.
He recalled Landon's shocked reaction when he had said the Nasdaq would surpass 4,000, and muttered to himself,
"The moment when the market stops being about investment and crosses into madness comes when people panic-buy, terrified of being the only ones not making money while the indexes hit record highs every day."
It was an age of frenzy—yet also a time of extraordinary opportunity.
The venture company he had just invested in was, to him, a goose that would lay golden eggs.
"To think it originally had a different name, and PayPal was only the product name for its online money transfer service. I almost walked right past a mountain of gold."
What made this investment so significant was that he had secured a stake in the very company that, after a successful IPO, would evolve into PayPal—the leading online payment platform.
On top of that, it was destined to become the cradle of the so-called "PayPal Mafia," the group of visionaries who would go on to reshape Silicon Valley.
"And though he hasn't joined PayPal yet, I'll soon be meeting Elon Musk, still in the prime of his youth."
Wondering what the younger version of the man hailed as the genius of the century would look like, Seok-won raised the can of beer to his lips again.
TL/n -
Confinity was a tech company founded in December 1998 by Max Levchin, Peter Thiel, and Luke Nosek.
It started out focusing on software for PalmPilots that let people beam money between handheld devices.
In 1999, they shifted to developing a digital wallet and online payment service, which became what we know as PayPal.
Confinity merged with Elon Musk's company X.com in March 2000. After the merger, the combined company focused fully on the online payments business.
In 2001, the merged company officially changed its name to PayPal, which later went public in 2002 and was acquired by eBay for $1.5 billion.
Confinity is remembered today mainly as the seed of PayPal and one of the key starting points for the so-called "PayPal Mafia," a group of former employees and founders who went on to build companies like Tesla, LinkedIn, YouTube, Yelp, and Palantir.
+++
Monica Lewinsky scandal, which was often referred to as "Monicagate", "Lewinsky scandal", or even "Zippergate" at the time.
The nickname "Zippergate" came from a play on words:
"Zipper" referring to the sexual nature of the scandal.
"-gate" as a suffix for political scandals, following Watergate.
In 1998, President Bill Clinton was investigated for having an extramarital affair with White House intern Monica Lewinsky.
Clinton initially denied the relationship under oath, leading to charges of perjury and obstruction of justice.
This triggered impeachment proceedings by the U.S. House of Representatives in December 1998.
The Senate acquitted him in February 1999, so he remained in office.