A few days later.
I held an idea meeting with Chun Min-jung.
We talked nonstop for ten straight hours, and only by morning were we finally able to wrap it up.
"Let's pass on the ideas that can be commercialized immediately through the Planning Office to each affiliate."
"Now I finally feel relieved."
"That's enough for the idea session. Let's talk about the projects. Aren't a few of them reaching their final stages?"
"The deep learning Go AI is nearly complete. We've been playing against professional Go players in private matches, and the win rate is already over ninety-six percent."
It was a large-scale event with the potential to showcase AI not just in Korea, but all over the world.
Chun Min-jung had been running this project for several years, so expectations were high.
"Then we should hold a major event soon. Arrange for the world's number one Go player, or at least a symbolic figure, and set up a live broadcast of the match."
"There are still a few things to refine. I think it would be best to hold the event around mid-year."
"Perfection is good, but if we miss the optimal timing, even the most perfect product might not get the attention it deserves."
"We can definitely refine it within three months. And securing a professional player, setting the venue, and negotiating with broadcasters will take about that much time anyway."
"Alright. Let's proceed with that. But don't try to do everything alone—delegate as much as possible to others."
Every project Chun Min-jung was handling was critical.
For that reason, she couldn't be burdened with everything. Responsibilities had to be distributed.
"I've already handed over most of the workload to the AI research team at IIT Korea Campus."
"Having the AI team here in Korea must make things easier, right?"
"Exactly. Now I finally understand why you insisted I go to the U.S. before. Working face-to-face accelerates progress so much more."
The faculty and researchers at IIT Korea Campus were truly world-class.
Especially in the field of artificial intelligence, they were unrivaled. Many experts supported by Taewoo Group and SAVE Investment had joined IIT Korea Campus as faculty or researchers.
"Since we're continually bringing in more experts, things will only get easier from here. Oh—how are the League of Champions skins selling?"
"Wow! I honestly never expected this. Within just one day of release, sales nearly hit ten billion won. And we still have the special world championship skins left to launch, so I think we can easily surpass one hundred billion won in total."
"Settling for one hundred billion would be too modest. Taewoo IT, Electronics, and Telecommunications will contribute part of the prize pool. That means the championship prize money alone will be close to two hundred billion won."
"That much? Wow! That's more than the prize money for most major tournaments."
"Exactly. With that level of reward, more players will want to go pro. And companies will have a clear reason to establish professional teams."
Two hundred billion won in prize money was only the beginning.
Once the world championship began, even more players would turn their attention to League of Champions.
That meant the following year's world championship would sell even more skins, and naturally, the prize money would rise even higher.
"I should hurry and get back to preparing for the tournament. But don't worry—I won't neglect the other projects! I'm brainstorming ideas for the championship during my spare time."
"Did I say otherwise? Go on."
Chun Min-jung was already half out of her seat.
Hosting the world championship of her favorite game brought her immense joy, and the moment I gave her the signal, she bolted out the door as if she were running a hundred-meter sprint.
"Should I just stay the night here?"
The place where we held the idea meeting was a hotel suite.
It was set up like a conference room, but it also had shower facilities and a king-sized bed—perfect for resting.
Thud!
I threw myself onto the bed.
The moment I closed my eyes, I felt like I could drift right into sleep.
Bzzz!
But then my phone started buzzing loudly in the early hours, forcing me awake again.
[Mr. Kim! We did it! We finally succeeded! Ahhhh!]
A deafening shout that nearly ruptured my eardrum.
The caller was Musk.
And there was only one kind of news that could make him scream like that.
"Did you succeed with the rocket launch?"
[Yes! On the fourth attempt, we finally pulled it off. Thanks to your investment, we developed the rocket without ever worrying about money.]
Musk was practically over the moon.
But I stayed calm. The success had come later than I expected.
Despite all the money I had poured into the project, the timing of the success wasn't much different from before my regression.
Of course, there was one major difference.
Back then, a shortage of funds forced him to scale down the rocket's size. But now, with ample investment, he had launched a rocket larger and more complex than the original design.
"This is only the beginning. When is the fifth launch scheduled? You'll need at least two consecutive successes to truly gain recognition, don't you think?"
[We're already assembling the rocket for the fifth launch. At the latest, we'll attempt it by July.]
"That's a relief. If the fifth launch succeeds, you'll need to return to the U.S., won't you? The electric vehicle project also needs your touch, Musk."
Taewoo and Kia Motors were developing electric cars in collaboration with Apple.
But our resources alone weren't enough. Musk also had to complete his electric vehicle quickly for real synergy to take effect.
[I was already planning to visit the U.S. soon. I'll make sure we finish and start production of the EVs within the year.]
"If necessary, I can connect you with GM to collaborate on mass production."
[If it comes to that, I'll ask. But for now, I don't want to think about anything else—I just want to savor the success of the rocket launch.]
"Congratulations once again. Those who claimed 'SpaceX will never succeed in launching rockets' won't be able to show their faces now."
[That's one of the reasons I'm going back to America this time—to see those faces myself.]
"I regret that I can't join you. Hopefully, we'll meet again in the U.S. next time."
Even as the call ended, Musk couldn't hide his excitement.
How could he not be? He had accomplished something that once seemed impossible.
And I was just as pleased.
The value of SpaceX was about to skyrocket by thousands, even tens of thousands of times.
It wouldn't be long before the shares I held were worth tens of trillions.
***
Centurion Pharmaceuticals Headquarters, located in InChun.
Upon hearing the good news, I immediately traveled to InChun to congratulate Dr. Kim Jang-woo and CEO Seo Jung-jun.
"I heard you've succeeded in mass-producing Tamiflu. You've really worked hard."
"It was only possible thanks to your full support, Chairman. And with the help of Dr. Kim Jang-woo, who developed Tamiflu, success was inevitable."
"Heh, even without me, your company had more than enough capability to achieve this. You've got far better equipment and personnel than I expected. In terms of facilities alone, you're nearly on par with pharmaceutical companies in the United States."
Dr. Kim praised their excellent facilities.
Centurion possessed equipment that a fledgling pharmaceutical company would normally never be able to acquire.
Of course, it was only natural they'd react this way—considering the massive amount of money I had invested to ensure they could secure the latest equipment in bulk.
"Sales of Tamiflu have already begun to surge. It's truly perfect timing that we managed to start mass production now."
"They're calling this outbreak the 'Swine Flu.' It started in the U.S. and has been spreading rapidly not only throughout Mexico and Canada but also across Europe and Asia."
"Unfortunately, we can't sell Tamiflu in America or Europe. One of the conditions of securing the co-production rights was that we could only sell in Asia."
At first glance, it might sound like a bad deal.
After all, we had poured in enormous sums of money just to acquire those co-production rights, only to be barred from the American and European markets.
But it wasn't necessarily a bad condition.
The number one consumer of Tamiflu in the world was right next door—Japan.
And with China's consumption increasing year after year, we could sell out our entire production without ever needing to expand into America or Europe.
"We've already received an order from Japan."
"Already? Even before the news of our production success has been made public? What's the projected monthly output at the moment?"
"We can produce two million doses."
Two million doses a month.
The price of a single Tamiflu capsule was around 2,000 won.
If we assumed the entire production was sold, that meant monthly revenue of four billion won.
For a newly established pharmaceutical company, it was an enormous figure.
But for me, that amount was unsatisfactory.
I hadn't poured vast sums into securing the co-production rights just to make a mere four billion won per month.
"If we halted production of all other drugs and focused solely on Tamiflu, how many doses could we produce in a month?"
"If every factory produced only Tamiflu, theoretically, up to ten million. But… are you certain we should go that far?"
"When the tide comes in, you row with it. Orders are already coming in from both the Korean and Japanese governments. Why hold back?"
The looming Tamiflu shortage.
At the moment, demand wasn't quite high enough to call it a shortage.
But soon, the entire world would scramble to buy Tamiflu at inflated prices.
Every pill produced would sell instantly, and lobbying would begin from those desperate to secure priority deliveries.
"If stock ever starts piling up, Taewoo Group will purchase it all. So please switch every factory to Tamiflu production."
"We already have contracts to produce several other medications."
"Then pay the penalties."
"Wouldn't that damage the company's credibility?"
"There's no need to worry about that."
Credibility, indeed.
If anything, people would say the company had excellent foresight.
Even if penalties had to be paid, producing Tamiflu was far more profitable.
And once the swine flu spread in full force, demanding penalty fees would become an impossible position for anyone to take.
"Are you sure about this?"
"If anyone dares bring up penalty fees, we'll simply tell the media that their company prevented us from producing more Tamiflu. They'll back down on their own."
"Do you really believe the swine flu will spread that severely worldwide?"
"This is only the beginning."
"Very well. I'll trust your judgment and order every factory to produce Tamiflu."
"Run production day and night in two shifts to maximize output. If needed, Taewoo Group will provide funding and manpower."
CEO Seo Jung-jun wore a troubled expression.
He probably thought I was pushing too hard, producing far more Tamiflu than was reasonable.
But that thought would vanish within just a few months.
And soon, without spending a single penny, the WHO would give us an advertising campaign of staggering proportions.
The kind of advertisement called a pandemic declaration—the announcement of an infectious disease spreading across continents.