Under the gaze of industry titans, corporate bosses, and company reps, Big Kim of AliKor stood with a confident smile, addressing the Busan Industry Summit's first topic: challenges facing Korea's telecom industry.
"I believe our network investment in Korea isn't bold enough," he began. "We need to leap forward. As we know, average internet speeds for Korean users hover around 512KB to 1MB. That's fine for reading text, but for image-heavy websites or videos, it's painfully slow, lagging and ruining the experience.
"Slow internet is holding back Korea's digital growth. Bold investment now will yield massive returns—tangible and intangible—through economic growth driven by faster networks. Relevant agencies should be ready to go big. You only gain by giving. My suggestion: skip gradual upgrades, adopt cutting-edge tech, and revolutionize the network. Thank you."
The room erupted in applause. Big Kim's words struck a chord, especially with internet company execs who'd long grumbled about sluggish speeds crippling their platforms.
Next, Mr. Lee of LenKor, dubbed Korea's tech conscience, offered his take. "Pure leapfrog development is a band-aid, not a cure. We need to boost foundational investment—specifically, the fiber optic backbone network. Without that, we're just masking the problem."
More applause followed, measured but supportive. Mr. Lee's focus on infrastructure resonated with many.
The male host, noting that two front-row giants had spoken, shifted gears to include the broader audience. Otherwise, the summit risked becoming a stage for the elite to grandstand. "Any other perspectives from the audience?" he asked, scanning the room.
Instantly, hundreds of hands shot up—CEOs and VPs of companies worth tens of millions of won, eager to seize a rare chance to speak before industry leaders. A moment in the spotlight, even if their ideas flopped, could boost their profile and ease future deals. Right or wrong, bold or bland, they wanted their shot. Hands crowded the air, a forest of ambition.
The host, unfazed, pointed toward Minho's section. "Please, this gentleman, share your views."
He'd singled out the middle-aged man next to Park Minho—the same one who'd scoffed at Minho's earlier murmur about making waves.
"Thank you, thank you," the man said, standing and bowing repeatedly, grinning as he took the microphone from a staffer. Facing the cameras, he introduced himself. "Hello, I'm Yang Ho-jin, president of Mirae Real Estate in Busan."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Nobody cared about his bio—they wanted his take. Yang, sensing the impatience, got to the point. "Based on the bosses' remarks and my own experience, I have a thought on the telecom industry."
He raised a finger for emphasis. "The slow network speeds stem from internet traffic sharing telephone lines. Why not build a dedicated internet line, separate from phones? Wouldn't that boost speeds several times over?"
"Idiot," a faint voice muttered beside him.
Yang's head snapped toward the source—Park Minho. The microphone, sensitive as it was, caught Minho's jab, broadcasting it to the room and beyond.
Snickers broke out, from the live audience to viewers at home. Yang's face flushed with fury. "What's your problem?" he barked, glaring at Minho. "My suggestion's none of your business. Watch your mouth!"
Minho, now under the camera's gaze, stayed cool. "I said your idea's foolish. You clearly don't understand network communication. Phone calls and internet traffic barely interfere with each other. Making random suggestions without knowing the basics? I'm impressed by your nerve."
Laughter erupted again, sharper this time. The crowd eyed Yang with amusement, his face now a mix of red and black, practically steaming. He loathed Minho, but the kid's youth and unknown status left him grasping. Who was this guy? Without a name or company to target, revenge was tricky. Then, a spark hit him.
"You're so smart, huh? Let's hear *your* brilliant idea!" Yang sneered, thrusting the microphone at Minho, betting the young upstart would choke under pressure.
Minho's age—barely over 20—made Yang doubt he knew anything substantial. This was his trap: let the kid fumble, humiliate himself, and hand Yang the last laugh.
The host, sensing drama that could spice up the session, didn't intervene. The microphone landed in Minho's hands, the room's eyes locked on him.
Minho gripped the mic, unfazed. The summit was his stage, and Yang had just handed him the spotlight. With the *Ultimate Imitation Emperor System* backing his phones and his foresight into tech trends, he was ready to make Hansung a name no one would forget.
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(end of this chapter)