The Hilton Hotel's grand hall buzzed with whispers as Park Minho entered, eyes tracking him like iron filings to a magnet. But the mood had shifted. Bosses who'd once swarmed him, pitching daughters and granddaughters with fake warmth, now hesitated, sizing him up again. The regret in their eyes reignited.
Ni Kwang-soo and Choi Sang-woo—Hanbit Academy's intellectual titans—had just publicly endorsed Minho, a 19-year-old dropout turned tech visionary. In Korea's guanxi-driven world, connections were king, but in tech? Raw innovation and core technology could trump everything. Minho, backed by Hanbit's finest, now carried that unassailable aura.
"Two academicians, for a dropout?" someone whispered, disbelief mixing with awe.
The old man's warning—Minho's a shooting star, doomed to crash—lost its sting. Ni's offer to mentor him, even remotely, changed everything. Hanbit Academy wasn't just prestige; it was Korea's scientific pinnacle, the forge of breakthrough chips and AI. Minho's Hansung Technology, with its 180,000 monthly Labor Edition 12 sales and 10-million-unit factory dream, could now tap into Hanbit's expertise and sidestep Wassenaar bans.
Eyes gleamed anew. This kid isn't just a fleeting star. He's a future tycoon. Daughters and granddaughters were back on the table.
Minho bowed deeply to Ni, voice steady despite his racing heart. "Thank you, Academician Ni. I'd be honored to study under you."
His Ultimate Imitation Emperor System hummed softly in his mind, keeping him calm. Ni's mentorship wasn't just academic; it was a strategic coup. Ni, the creator of Korea's Ark 1 chip, dreamed of a chip superpower. Minho's Industry 4.0 vision, triple play proposal, and proprietary OS—built at 19—marked him as the heir to that dream.
Ni clapped his hands, beaming. "Good, good, good!" His eyes twinkled with genuine delight. Just yesterday, he'd been stunned by Minho's Hansung 2 Labor Edition—a 29,900-won marvel with a fluid OS that squeezed every drop from a humble chip. "A dojo in a snail's shell," Ni had marveled, secretly sending students to buy one to dissect.
Chips were Ni's forte; systems, less so. But with Minho's genius in both, Korea could build processors and OS ecosystems to rival global giants.
They hashed out details quickly—textbooks mailed, Zoom calls, phone mentorship. Minho was tied down by his Gyeonggi factory, but Ni's flexibility sealed the deal.
As they spoke, the Hilton's management interrupted, dragging over a sheepish receptionist and lobby manager. Days ago, they'd snubbed Minho, denying him a room, mistaking him for a scruffy nobody. Now, their backs bent in apologetic bows.
"We're terribly sorry, Mr. Park," the manager stammered, sweat glistening. "We offer you a complimentary week's stay, plus a half-price discount card… for mental distress."
Minho accepted the card silently, expression unreadable, and walked out without a word. The managers exchanged nervous glances, stunned by his cold indifference.
Word spread within minutes. Bosses whispered, piecing it together. Someone posted it on MaumNet: "Hilton snubs summit star Park Minho!" The thread exploded with memes. By day four, Hilton fired the manager and receptionist as scapegoats for the PR disaster. Lawsuits followed, but Minho was long gone, unfazed.
---
In the hall, Xu Jia-Hu, Jaehan Mobile's CEO, overheard the Hilton saga and snorted. "Genius, huh?" he muttered under his breath. "Let's see him handle billions in debt."
His plan was simple: flood rural markets with Jaehan's cheap phones, undercutting Hansung's 29,900-won Labor Edition 12 and the upcoming 49,900-won Hansung 3. Backed by Gao-Seong's billions, Xu aimed to crush Minho before he gained real traction.
"Which river will you jump into when your company drowns, kid?" he whispered to himself, smirking.
Xu's confidence wasn't baseless. Jaehan's scale, TLC's self-made parts, Amoi's brand—they were chaebol giants. Hansung, an upstart from Gyeonggi, was a gnat to them. But Xu underestimated Minho's hidden weapons—his proprietary OS, his chip ambitions, and Hanbit's backing.
And the Ultimate Imitation Emperor System gave Minho an unmatchable edge: glimpses of future tech, photographic memory, strategies decades ahead of the market.
---
The next morning, Korea's media should've buzzed with summit fallout—Minho's Industry 4.0 vision, Hansung's rise. Instead, a bombshell hijacked every headline.
Motorola acquires Symbian for $135 million.
News tickers screamed:
HanFox: "Mobile Earthquake: Motorola Grabs Symbian, System King."
eKor: "Jaehan Joins Motorola, Adopts Symbian for All Phones."
WaveKor: "Symbian's Global Push: TLC, Kejian, Amoi, Sony Ericsson Follow."
KBS: "Symbian to Rule Phones? Korea's Tech Future in Peril."
MaumNet erupted. "The wolf's here!" one post screamed. "First Microsoft monopolizes PCs, now Motorola's Symbian takes phones?"
Some cheered standardization. Others trembled at U.S. dominance.
Jaehan's pivot to Symbian, alongside TLC and others, signaled a seismic shift. Starting next month, their phones would run Symbian OS, sidelining local systems like Minho's.
Minho's summit glow dimmed instantly. His headlines buried beneath Motorola's conquest. Gao-Seong's Yoon Woo-bin, spotted with Motorola's Edward Kang last night, had brokered this—no doubt about it.
A Symbian wave, backed by chaebols and U.S. cash, now loomed over Hansung. Xu Jia-Hu's low-cost flood, powered by Symbian, threatened to drown Minho's rural niche completely. TLC's cheap parts, Amoi's brand, Jaehan's reach—Minho faced a towering wall.
But he saw the detour others couldn't.
Symbian was clunky, bloated, corporate. His OS was lean and fast, optimized to squeeze every watt from the Labor Edition 12's modest chip. MaumNet users loved Hansung's speed, its walnut-smashing durability. And Ni's mentorship would birth processors to rival Symbian's backers.
Hansung's 180,000 monthly sales, scaling to 10 million units, were only the start. Industry 4.0—chips, AI, smart factories—was his endgame.
Xu laughed, dreaming of Minho's downfall. Yoon plotted, Gao-Seong's billions fueling his vengeance. The old man's prophecy—shooting star, doomed to crash—echoed everywhere.
But Minho clenched his fist.
They think I'm a star. They're wrong.
Stars fell.
Tides rose.
Hansung wasn't just a star; it was a tide, and the peak was his.
---
(end of this chapter)