Golden Spoon Investment Portfolio - Chapter 528

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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528. When I inquired with IBM, they quoted approximately 120 million dollars.

Advanced Technology Research Institute Research Center in Yongin, Gyeonggi Province.

“This is Building B, where the OLED and materials technology research team recently selected for a nationally designated research project is located.”

Seok-won, dressed in a navy custom-tailored suit, toured the Advanced Technology Research Institute facilities he had acquired along with three subsidiaries of the Daekwang Group, guided by Director Choi Sang-su.
Though the exterior was an unremarkable gray building, the interior of the research center exceeded his expectations.
Inside the research offices, which required passing through multiple security procedures, male and female researchers of various ages stood absorbed in their work, wearing white lab coats and manipulating complex equipment.

“Organic materials that emit light when electricity flows through them are called organic light-emitting diodes for display purposes—OLED for short.”

Director Choi Sang-su continued his explanation in a hushed tone so as not to disturb the research.

“Unlike conventional LCD, it requires no backlight, making it possible to produce thinner, lighter products with superior image quality—it’s the next-generation display technology.”

OLED was the display technology that would eventually displace the bulky CRT and LCD, becoming widely used not only in televisions but in all manner of electronic devices, including smartphones.
Knowing this future, Seok-won was genuinely astonished to discover that OLED technology was already being researched domestically at this point in time.

“Compared to other displays, OLED consumes less power, can be manufactured in any size imaginable, offers superior image clarity, and is remarkably thin. In many respects, it has far more advantages than LCD.”

Whether he had studied beforehand or not, his evident knowledge of OLED—a technology whose very name was unfamiliar to most people—drew surprised glances from the research institute staff present alongside Director Choi Sang-su.

“You seem quite knowledgeable about OLED.”

To the subtle inquiry, Seok-won replied casually.

“It’s a technology attracting active research as the next-generation display. Depending on who achieves practical implementation first and brings a product to market, the landscape of the display market could shift dramatically. I’ve simply picked up some knowledge while researching electronics companies for investment purposes.”
“Still, from what you’re saying, it seems you understand it quite deeply.”

Instead of responding, Seok-won smiled faintly.
After slowly touring the research facilities one by one, he moved to the director’s office.
With Seok-won in the center, Director Choi Sang-su and the key personnel of the Advanced Technology Research Institute sat arranged on either side of the sofa.
With the Daekwang Group’s bankruptcy having previously funded their operations now creating financial constraints that inevitably curtailed research activities, everyone watched nervously to see what Seok-won, who had newly taken over the Advanced Technology Research Institute, would say.
After taking a sip of coffee and setting down his cup, Seok-won crossed one leg and opened his mouth, surveying those gathered before him.

“I was quite impressed by how passionately you’re researching technologies that will shape South Korea’s future.”

Choi Sang-su let out a quiet sigh of relief at the positive response.

“I’m glad you see it that way.”

Seok-won leaned back in his chair and asked.

“I understand the Daekwang Group has been providing 10 billion won in annual funding. Is that correct?”

Choi Sang-su straightened his posture as all eyes turned to him.

“That’s right.”
“It’s not insignificant, but considering the institute’s scale, it doesn’t seem quite sufficient.”

Uncertain of where this was heading, Choi Sang-su and the other attendees tensed as he continued.

“Despite the considerable achievements so far, my assessment is that further progress is difficult with the current loose collaborative structure between industry, academia, and research institutions.”
“…Then what changes do you think should be made?”

Choi Sang-su swallowed hard and asked carefully.

“I believe the best approach would be to transform it from a consortium structure into a research institute fully funded and owned by Bluehole Group, while maintaining maximum autonomy in research activities.”

The room erupted in commotion.
It was a fundamental upheaval of the Advanced Technology Research Institute’s existing system.
As expected, Choi Sang-su couldn’t hide his bewilderment and expressed his reservations.

“If we proceed as you suggest, we would face difficulties coordinating with not only private companies like Seoul City Gas that participate as consortium members, but also national research institutions like the Korea Institute of Science and Technology and the Korea Atomic Energy Research Institute. This could severely hamper our research activities.”

Park Sang-mo, the angular-faced head of the research deliberation committee, also voiced his concerns.

“Our institute’s greatest strength is that companies, universities, and other research institutions collaborate autonomously to supplement each other’s shortcomings and produce better results. Doing this would be throwing away that advantage.”
“Exactly.”
“Please reconsider this.”

Emboldened by the two men’s opposition, the other attendees joined in trying to persuade him.
Though he might have found this reaction disagreeable, Seok-won listened to everything with a calm expression, as if he’d anticipated this, then responded thoughtfully.

“Seok-won, if we substantially increase the number of doctoral-level researchers and significantly boost annual research funding to one hundred billion won, there shouldn’t be any major issues, wouldn’t you say?”
“…!”

Director Choi Sang-su, who had been showing resistance, suddenly widened his eyes.
Wondering if he’d misheard, he hurriedly leaned forward and asked again.

“Did you just say you’d provide one hundred billion won in research funding annually?”

The other attendees, including Chairman Park Sang-mo, looked startled and perked up their ears, turning their gaze toward Seok-won.
Drawing all eyes upon myself, I spoke in a quiet but clear voice.

“Yes. We’ll provide one hundred billion won in research funding each year, and we’ll also double the researchers’ salaries to boost their morale and motivation.”

Everyone’s mouths fell open at this extraordinary announcement, and they remained frozen in that expression.
They had been bracing themselves for a significant reduction in research funding and scale due to the dissolution of the Daekwang Group, but not only was I increasing the funding tenfold, I was also improving the researchers’ treatment—it was understandable that they were shocked.
As everyone struggled to process this completely unexpected turn of events, I continued.

“Though we’ve endured the great hardship of the foreign exchange crisis, our nation has now overcome that difficult period and developed to the threshold of a true advanced country. I believe the era of demanding one-sided sacrifice and effort from researchers is over.”

Director Choi Sang-su and the attendees nodded in agreement.
They were essentially living witnesses to researchers who had worked in such poor conditions without proper treatment, practically heading-butting bare ground, so everyone deeply resonated with my words.
However, not only the government but also companies still lacked awareness and investment in research and development, and above all, they were living through the dark period of the IMF crisis, so no one dared even mention improving treatment.
Salary increases were out of the question—people were grateful just to keep their jobs and continue working at the institute without being laid off.
But now that Seok-won, who had newly taken over the Advanced Technology Research Institute, was saying he would significantly increase research funding and improve treatment, it was almost bewildering.
While everyone sat speechless with their mouths agape, my words continued.

“By increasing research funding and improving treatment, the institute won’t be taking all the research achievements for itself.”

Director Choi Sang-su adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses with trembling hands and asked.

“Then what are you planning to do…?”
“While the institute’s support is essential, research achievements are the fruits of the researchers’ blood, sweat, and tears. When registering patents, I’ll distribute certain shares so the researchers can share in the profits from their accomplishments.”

Once again, astonishment spread across the attendees’ faces.
Chairman Park Sang-mo, finding it hard to believe, blinked and asked.

“Did you say you’d distribute patent shares to the researchers?”
“Since they’ve achieved the results themselves, shouldn’t they naturally hold shares in them?”

Of course, that was true.
But until now, it had been standard practice for research institutes and companies to retain ownership of research results while giving researchers only modest bonuses, so everyone was visibly astonished that such an arrangement could actually happen.
At the same time, they were struck by the freshness of Seok-won’s actions—finally acknowledging the efforts and sacrifices of researchers who had long gone unrecognized, and securing their rightful share of the rewards.
Some were so moved, feeling as though their years of hard work were finally being compensated, that their eyes glistened with tears.
The atmosphere of worry and anxiety that had lingered over the changes brought by the dissolution of the Daekwang Group gradually dissipated, and hope and anticipation began to bloom on the faces of Director Choi Sang-su and the other attendees.

“And while the current facilities aren’t bad, we’ll need more space if we’re going to expand our research workforce and install cutting-edge equipment. I’m thinking of building a new research center in Daejeon—more than twice the size of what we have now.”
“You mean to say you’re constructing an entirely new research center?”

Director Choi Sang-su responded, his expression half-mesmerized.

“Daejeon has facilities and educational institutions like KAIST and the Korea Atomic Energy Research Institute, making it something of a mecca for Korean science and technology. If we relocate the research center there, we could achieve tremendous synergistic effects.”

Director Choi Sang-su then fell into serious thought before nodding in agreement.

“You’re right—Daejeon would indeed offer a far better environment than Yongin in many respects.”

At that moment, Chairman Park Sang-mo ventured to interject carefully.

“But wouldn’t constructing a new research institute require substantial funding?”
“I’m planning to allocate a separate budget distinct from research support funds, so there’s no need to worry.”

Chairman Park Sang-mo, who had been privately concerned that research funding for the researchers might be reduced if a new institute were built, relaxed visibly upon hearing Seok-won’s assurance.

“And what do you think about installing a supercomputer from IBM in the new research center—one with processing speeds of 12.3 teraflops?”

The casual way Seok-won dropped this remark sent the entire room into a stir once more.

“A 12.3 teraflops supercomputer? Are you truly serious?”

Director Choi Sang-su asked, his eyes trembling with emotion.

“If our researchers are to conduct their work freely, they need equipment of that caliber.”
“But a supercomputer with that level of performance would cost an astronomical sum.”

The most advanced supercomputer in Korea was the SX-5/16A owned by the Korea Meteorological Administration, with computational power reaching 128 billion operations per second.
To introduce a 12.3 teraflops supercomputer—overwhelmingly superior in performance beyond comparison—was simply unbelievable.

“I checked with IBM, and they quoted around 120 million dollars.”
“Gasp!”
“Huh!”

At the astronomical figure, Director Choi Sang-su and the attendees drew sharp breaths.
When Seok-won mentioned he’d already inquired about the price, Director Choi Sang-su gripped his hands tightly as if in prayer and asked again.

“Sir, are you truly considering acquiring such an expensive supercomputer?”
“Yes.”

Seok-won answered without the slightest hesitation.
Then, glancing around at the attendees who sat speechless with gaping mouths, he offered a subtle smile.

“Ultimately, my goal is to develop the Advanced Technology Research Institute into the world’s premier research facility—surpassing even Bell Labs in the United States.”
“…!”

Bell Labs was the world’s greatest private research institution, having produced countless Nobel laureates and birthed countless inventions and groundbreaking technologies—the transistor, Unix, the C programming language, and more.
To surpass such a formidable institution would be dismissed as absurd fantasy by ordinary people, yet their counterpart was Seok-won, the world’s wealthiest magnate, so they could not laugh it off.
Director Choi Sang-su and the attendees felt their hearts trembling, sensing that his words might actually come to pass.
The passion buried deep within their hearts, which had gradually dimmed with age, now blazed back to life.
And simultaneously, they realized that a deity of wealth, overflowing with gold, had descended upon them, and their faces flushed with exultation.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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