Golden Spoon Investor

Gyeonggi Province, Yongin – Advanced Technology Research Institute

"This is Building B, home to the OLED and materials research team recently selected as part of a national research project."

Wearing a navy bespoke suit, Seok-won followed Director Dr. Choi Sangsoo as they toured the facilities of the Advanced Technology Research Institute, which Daekwang Group had jointly acquired along with three of its subsidiaries.

From the outside, the gray building looked plain and unremarkable, but the interior of the research center far exceeded his expectations.

Inside the laboratories—accessible only after several layers of security—researchers of various ages, both men and women, were dressed in white lab coats, completely absorbed in their work as they handled complex-looking instruments.

"When an electric current passes through it, this organic material emits light on its own. We call this display an Organic Light-Emitting Diode, or OLED for short," Dr. Choi explained in a quiet tone so as not to disturb the ongoing research.

"Unlike traditional LCDs, OLEDs don't need a backlight. That makes them thinner, lighter, and capable of producing better picture quality. It's considered a next-generation display technology."

The bulky CRTs and LCDs would soon be replaced by OLEDs—displays that would find widespread use not only in televisions but also in smartphones and all kinds of electronic devices.

Knowing how the future would unfold, Seok-won was inwardly astonished to see that domestic research into OLED technology had already begun at this stage.

"Compared to other displays, OLEDs consume less power, can be made in virtually any size, and offer sharper image quality while being thinner. In many ways, they're superior to LCDs."

Dr. Choi and the accompanying researchers glanced at Seok-won with mild surprise. For an outsider, he seemed unusually knowledgeable about OLED technology—something most people hadn't even heard of yet.

"You seem to know quite a bit about OLED technology."

At the casual remark, Seok-won replied with an easy tone.

"It's a next-generation display technology that's being actively researched. Depending on who manages to commercialise it first, it could completely reshape the display market. I've just picked up a little knowledge while researching electronics companies for potential investments."

"But from the way you talk, it sounds like you have a rather deep understanding."

Instead of answering, Seok-won simply smiled.

After finishing the slow tour of the research facilities, Seok-won moved to the director's office.

He sat in the center, with Dr. Choi Sangsoo and the core members of the Advanced Technology Research Institute seated on either side of the sofa.

With Daekwang Group—their previous financial backer—having gone bankrupt, everyone was on edge, anxious to hear what Seok-won would say now that he had taken over the institute.

After a sip of coffee, Seok-won set his cup down, crossed one leg over the other, and looked around the room before speaking.

"I was very impressed by the passion you all show in researching technologies that will shape Korea's future."

Dr. Choi quietly let out a sigh of relief at the positive tone.

"I'm glad to hear that," he replied.

Leaning back slightly, Seok-won asked,

"I understand that Daekwang Group provided annual funding of about ten billion won. Is that correct?"

Dr. Choi straightened his posture.

"Yes, that's right."

"It's not a small amount, but considering the scale of this institute, it doesn't seem particularly generous either."

Not knowing where the conversation was heading, Dr. Choi and the others tensed up.

"Your team has achieved a lot so far," Seok-won continued, "but in my view, there's a limit to how much progress can be made under the current loose system of academia–industry–research collaboration."

Dr. Choi Sangsoo swallowed dryly before asking carefully,

"So, what kind of change are you suggesting?"

"I believe it would be best to maintain as much research autonomy as possible," Seok-won said evenly, "but restructure the institute from a cooperative association into a fully owned and supported subsidiary under Bluehole Group."

The room immediately erupted into murmurs.

It was an enormous shift—one that would completely overturn the fundamental structure of the Advanced Technology Research Institute.

As expected, Dr. Choi's expression stiffened with visible discomfort.

"If we do as you say, it'll be difficult to continue our collaborations with other private firms currently participating as consortium members, such as Seoul City Gas," he said, his tone cautious but strained. "Not to mention our national research partners like the Korea Institute of Science and Technology or the Korea Atomic Energy Research Institute. We could see a serious decline in research activity."

Dr. Park Sangmo, the head of the Research Review Committee, added his concern.

"Our institute's greatest strength lies in the voluntary cooperation among corporations, universities, and other research bodies. Each fills in the others' gaps to produce better results. If we abandon that, we'd be giving up our biggest advantage."

"That's right," another agreed.

"Please reconsider this proposal."

Encouraged by the opposition, the other attendees joined in, urging Seok-won to rethink his plan.

Under normal circumstances, such pushback might have been irritating, but Seok-won showed no sign of displeasure. He listened calmly, as if he had anticipated every reaction, and replied in a composed tone.

"If we significantly increase the number of PhD-level researchers," he said, "and expand the research budget to a hundred billion won annually, wouldn't that resolve most of your concerns?"

"...!"

Gasps rippled through the room.

Dr. Choi Sangsoo, who had been opposing the idea moments earlier, suddenly widened his eyes.

Thinking he might have misheard, he quickly leaned forward in his seat and asked,

"D-Did you just say you'll provide one hundred billion won in research funding every year?"

The others, including Committee Chairman Park Sangmo, perked up in surprise and stared at Seok-won with disbelief.

Meeting everyone's gaze, Seok-won spoke clearly—not loudly, but with unmistakable firmness.

"That's right. We'll allocate one hundred billion won annually for research. And to boost morale and motivation among the researchers, their salaries will be doubled."

The room froze. Everyone sat there, mouths slightly open, unable to process what they had just heard.

They had been bracing themselves for major budget cuts and downsizing after the collapse of Daekwang Group. Instead, this new owner was not only increasing the research budget tenfold but also improving their compensation. No wonder they were stunned.

As confusion spread across the room, Seok-won continued.

"We've gone through a severe foreign exchange crisis, but now that the country is emerging from those difficult times and standing at the threshold of becoming a developed nation, I believe it's no longer right to demand one-sided sacrifice and effort from researchers."

Dr. Choi and the others nodded, their expressions softening with agreement.

They were, after all, living proof of the hardships faced by those who had pursued research under poor conditions with little recognition. Seok-won's words resonated deeply with them.

In truth, both the government and corporations still lacked awareness and investment in R&D. With the nation struggling under IMF management, even mentioning better pay or working conditions had been out of the question.

Most researchers had been grateful just to keep their jobs. Salary increases were unthinkable luxuries.

And now, this new owner, who had just taken over the institute was voluntarily pledging to raise funding and improve benefits. The reversal was so unexpected that it left them speechless.

While everyone sat in stunned silence, Seok-won went on.

"Of course, increasing the budget and improving compensation doesn't mean the institute will claim all the research results."

Dr. Choi, his hands trembling slightly, adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and asked,

"Then… what do you intend to do?"

"Even if the institute provides the resources," Seok-won replied, "the results of the research are still the fruit of the researchers' sweat and effort. So when patents are filed, I intend to allocate a share of the rights to the researchers, allowing them to directly benefit from their own achievements."

Once again, astonishment spread across the faces of the attendees.

Chairman Park Sangmo blinked several times, unable to believe what he had just heard.

"Did you say you'll share patent ownership with the researchers?"

"They're the ones who achieved those results," Seok-won replied calmly. "Naturally, they deserve a share."

It was a perfectly reasonable statement.

But until now, researchers had only ever received small bonuses for their achievements; the actual research outcomes had always belonged entirely to the institute or the sponsoring company. The idea of researchers holding a share of their own patents left everyone stunned.

At the same time, many felt a deep, unexpected emotion. Seok-won's decision not only recognized the researchers' sacrifices and contributions but also treated them with genuine fairness—something they had long been denied.

A few even teared up, overwhelmed by the feeling that their years of hard work were finally being acknowledged.

The atmosphere in the room shifted. The anxiety and tension that had lingered since Daekwang Group's dissolution began to fade. In their place, hope and anticipation started to bloom on the faces of Dr. Choi Sangsoo and the others.

"And while these current facilities are fine," Seok-won continued, "we'll soon face space constraints as we expand our research staff and install more advanced equipment. So, I'm planning to build a new research center in Daejeon—at least twice the size of this one."

"You mean… you intend to construct an entirely new research center?" Dr. Choi asked, half in disbelief.

"Yes," Seok-won said with a small nod. "Daejeon is home to institutions like KAIST and the Korea Atomic Energy Research Institute. It's practically the heart of Korean science and technology. Relocating there will create strong synergy."

Dr. Choi fell silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful, then nodded in agreement.

"You're right. In many ways, Daejeon does provide a better environment than Yongin."

At that point, Park Sangmo spoke up cautiously.

"But building a new research facility would require a substantial budget, wouldn't it?"

"I plan to allocate a separate budget for construction, apart from the research funding. So there's no need to worry."

Relieved that the funding for ongoing research wouldn't be affected, Park's expression eased noticeably.

"And for the new institute," Seok-won added, "how about installing IBM's upcoming supercomputer—the one capable of 12.3 teraflops of processing speed?"

The moment Seok-won casually mentioned it, the room erupted again in murmurs of disbelief.

"A 12.3-teraflop supercomputer? Are you serious?"

Dr. Choi Sangsoo's eyes trembled as he asked the question, almost afraid of the answer.

"If we want our researchers to work freely and without limits," Seok-won said calmly, "then we need equipment of that calibre."

"But a supercomputer with that kind of performance would cost an enormous amount."

At the time, the most powerful supercomputer in Korea belonged to the Korea Meteorological Administration—the SX-5/16A—with a computational speed of 128 billion operations per second.

And now Seok-won was talking about bringing in a system with performance so far beyond that it wasn't even comparable—a 12.3-teraflop monster. It was no wonder everyone was shocked.

"I asked IBM about it," Seok-won continued casually. "It's around 120 million dollars."

"Wh–what!"

"Oh my God…"

The group collectively gasped, the sound of them swallowing hard filling the room.

Realizing that he had already inquired about the price, Dr. Choi gripped Seok-won's hands as if in prayer and asked again, his voice trembling.

"Are you truly planning to bring in such an expensive supercomputer?"

"Yes," Seok-won replied without the slightest hesitation.

He then looked around at the speechless faces, all frozen in shock, and smiled faintly.

"My ultimate goal is to make the Advanced Technology Research Institute the greatest research facility in the world—surpassing even Bell Labs in the United States."

"...!"

Bell Labs—the legendary private research center that had produced countless Nobel laureates, and where inventions like the transistor, UNIX, and the C programming language had been born.

For anyone else, such a declaration would have sounded absurd, the kind of dream dismissed with a laugh. But this was Seok-won—the world's richest man—and when he said it, the idea suddenly felt plausible.

Dr. Choi and the other attendees felt their hearts race. Somehow, they believed he could actually make it happen.

The passion that had quietly faded with age began to burn once again inside them. And at that moment, as they looked upon the man who seemed like a living god of wealth—one who could make gold spill from his pockets—they couldn't help but feel pure exhilaration and awe.