"I already told you both—you don't have to wait for me tonight. Just eat," said Jang Gwangsu as he stepped into the house, changing into worn slippers. "So, son, how were your test results this time?"
"About the same as last time, Dad. But next semester, Mom's going to tutor me. I'll definitely make it into a good high school in the city. After that, I'll get into university and be a civil servant," Jang Young replied with practiced confidence.
The truth was, he didn't care about being a government official. Business excited him much more—starting a company, making real money, living out his dream.
"Dad, did you get any answer about the factory's funding when you went to the county office?" Young asked, trying to sound casual.
"The county secretary said they've received some emergency funds. The workers' basic wages will be paid out soon. But next year… who knows." Gwangsu rubbed his temples, eyes tired.
It was obvious the county wouldn't prop up Yongcheon Electronics forever. Word was already spreading that the factory could be shut down. It sounded unthinkable—this was a state factory—but without direction, and with the old director and secretary both recently transferred, Gwangsu was left balancing on a knife's edge as chief engineer.
"Did the party secretary say anything about making you director?" Young's mother, Soonran, asked anxiously.
Gwangsu shook his head. Factory manager and chief engineer were different ranks—and different pay. Back pay always eventually arrived, but a promotion would help.
"Why didn't you put yourself forward? You're doing all the director's work for chief-engineer pay. That's not right!" Soonran said, her frustration surfacing. "Our boy will have to go to the city for high school next year, university after that. Who can afford it without money?"
"If the factory's not making money, how could I ask for more?" Gwangsu said, voice tight.
"Enough," interrupted Jang Young, waving his chopsticks. "Mom, Dad—stop worrying while you eat. Isn't this all about money? After dinner, let me show Dad how to make some!"
Whap! Gwangsu flicked his son lightly on the head. "What do you know—go on, teach old men how to get rich at your age?"
"Dad, you always talk about national rejuvenation and young leaders. Don't you realize the government wants open-minded, enterprising young people in charge these days?"
"You're not a university graduate, let alone a master's student! Don't joke around with grown-up talk," snapped Gwangsu—but a little pride showed under the mock annoyance.
Mom chimed in, "Listen to your father. You just focus on your studies. That's a bigger help than any business scheme."
Weren't they just arguing with each other? Now they're suddenly teaming up on me, Jang Young thought, rolling his eyes.
He pressed forward. "Dad, have you ever heard of video game consoles?"
"Shouldn't you focus on your entrance exam? You mention video games and your mom will have words," Gwangsu warned.
"I'm not saying I want to play games. I mean, tons of kids and even adults want them now. These consoles are just electronic leisure devices," Young explained, hoping they'd keep listening.
"What, you want the electronics factory to manufacture game consoles? Do you have any idea how difficult that is?" Gwangsu scoffed. "Designers overseas spent years perfecting those. We wouldn't know where to start."
"Dad, abroad they're already selling 16-bit machines. But in Korea, all the stores sell are outdated 8-bit models—leftover inventory from Japan and America, and they're expensive as gold!"
He leaned forward. "Eight hundred thousand won for the cheapest console in Seoul, and you can't even buy one here in Yongcheon. And even if you can get one, you finish one cartridge and get bored. But buying more games is impossible—the cassettes sell for over a hundred thousand won each!"
"But the real production cost is under ten thousand. All the profit goes to the dealers. Now, building a full console line would cost a fortune, but game cartridges are much simpler—our factory can do this, right?"
Young's excitement became infectious. "Even just selling a thousand cartridges, we could clear twenty or thirty million won. Sell two thousand, and we'd have the capital to try making our own consoles."
But his dad shook his head. "Why would anyone buy them from us? If it's so easy, why hasn't anyone else done it?"
Young replied, "You don't really think all those expensive cassettes in the city are authentic, do you? At least half are bootlegs from Hong Kong or Taiwan—the market is flooded with fakes. The process is straightforward: just copy the code, burn it onto a chip, and put it in a shell. Our team could do it easily, even if most people have no idea how it's done."
He smiled at Mom. "Just like making radios! Any technician here can assemble one from parts, but would you know where to begin, Mom? Not everyone has your specialty, either."
"Oh, so now you're smarter than everyone?" Soonran bristled, but her glare softened when he complimented her.
"One thing, son—copying someone else's game design is illegal. Back then, our class in college learned the basics of patent law. That's protected technology," Gwangsu said warily.
Young nodded, but pressed on, "But the reality is, the law is mostly just a pilot right now—no one really enforces it. The city and county won't care if it saves the factory, pays the workers, and avoids a huge political scandal when people riot for their wages."
"-And besides, is it breaking the law if you're just an OEM? If someone else makes the order, you just do contract production. That's like blaming the knife shop for someone using their kitchen knife badly, right?"
"If it brings in cash, saves the factory, and pays everyone, wouldn't you do it then?"
Jang Young grinned inside. He'd deliberately spoken about legality to push his dad into making the morally and financially right choice. If
this was how it played out, their fortunes could change for good.