CH427 | Heir

The core of the presidential address was this:

Regardless of the truth behind the suspicions, I take full responsibility for causing social unrest.

As a citizen, not as president, I will face the judgment of the law fairly.

It was an announcement no one had expected.

Vice Chairman Han stared blankly at the TV, his mouth hanging open like a fool.

“The president has just declared his resignation. This is the first time in the constitutional history of South Korea.”

“It seems Congressman Choi Jaeseok went to the Blue House himself and confronted him.”

“But even if the head of the leading party made a move, is it really possible for the president to step down like this?”

“There’s no benefit in making an enemy of the next power. Especially with approval ratings plummeting, the people around the president must have been the first to urge him to resign.”

As with every administration, the corruption of those around the president was worse than the president’s own.

To survive, they had to maintain good relations with the next power, and for that, the sitting president’s resignation was inevitable.

“Still, he won’t be stepping down immediately. He’ll remain in office until the next presidential election, so the turmoil won’t worsen.”

“The election timetable has simply been moved up by about a year and a half.”

In the previous timeline, the election had been brought forward by only six months.

But back then, it had followed impeachment, not voluntary resignation, leaving no time to prepare properly for the election.

Not even a presidential transition committee had been formed.

The new president had to walk into the Blue House with no preparation whatsoever.

Of course, even this time, the preparation period wasn’t long, but at least compared to before, the next president could enter the Blue House with a little more readiness.

“According to election law, a presidential election must be held within 60 days. Starting today, it’s safe to say the race has officially begun. Since no party is prepared, this will turn into a battle fought on fundamentals.”

“This will be an election where the one who prepared early and thoroughly will come out on top. Because the president chose resignation, the focus of the election will shift more toward economic development than toward punishing the administration.”

The true danger of impeachment lay in its aftershocks.

Not only does impeachment dominate every issue during the process, but even after it concludes, the narrative of punishing the administration remains the top priority for some time.

But this time was different.

Because the president chose resignation, there was also a high chance of sympathy from the public.

Having declared he would step down as a citizen and face the judgment of the law, public anger had eased considerably by the time the election would take place.

“Still, won’t this election inevitably center around punishing the administration? No matter that the president chose resignation, the media has already spread too many allegations. And public interest remains heavily focused on them.”

“All it takes is to present a massive policy initiative strong enough to overshadow those suspicions.”

“Would that policy be related to the plan you’ve been considering, Chairman?”

“You could say that. First, I’ll meet with Congressman Choi Jaeseok, have a conversation, and explain everything.”

From this moment on, Congressman Choi Jaeseok had to become the protagonist.

With only about 60 days left until the election, he needed to monopolize every issue if he wanted to secure a stable victory.

***

The next day.

I met with Congressman Choi Jaeseok at the annex of Captain Kang’s restaurant.

Perhaps because the news of the president’s resignation had just broken the day before, Congressman Choi looked visibly weighed down.

“I don’t know if what I did was the right thing. If I hadn’t pressured him, the president would never have chosen resignation.”

“Whether it was right or wrong will be judged by history, depending on what you do from this point forward, Congressman.”

“My body and mind feel unbearably heavy. The presidential election is right in front of us, and I can’t even figure out which direction to take.”

It seemed as if the current situation still didn’t feel real to him.

And understandably so—an election that had been nearly two years away had suddenly been brought forward to just 60 days. How could anyone set a clear direction overnight?

But Congressman Choi had nothing to worry about.

Everything was unfolding in his favor.

“According to the latest polls, you’re ranked first in public support for the next leader.”

“My numbers may look high now, but as the election approaches, support will inevitably gravitate back to the two major parties. Just like the last election, it’s highly likely the vote will split with each of the two big parties taking around 30%.”

Up until now, Korean politics had firmly maintained its two-party system.

Thanks to the birth of the People’s Economy Party, it had become a three-party system, but during presidential elections, voter support always tended to drift back to the two dominant parties.

However, this presidential race was shaping up to be a little different.

First of all, support for the ruling party had plummeted after producing a president who chose resignation.

If the People’s Economy Party simply absorbed that support, victory would come easily.

“I hear the ruling party is splitting into two factions. If that happens, they won’t be able to exert much influence in this election. And as for the opposition, part of their support will be siphoned off by the new party. The environment is looking favorable for you.”

“In elections, you never know what might happen. Fragmented parties can always form alliances and unify their candidates. That’s why the only way to win is by securing a solid, unwavering base of support, no matter what variables appear.”

Congressman Choi Jaeseok had given up in the last presidential race.

That was why, this time, he intended to proceed with far greater caution.

“If you implement policies that can appeal not only to progressives and conservatives but also to moderates, your approval rating will rise even higher.”

“Haha, that’s quite the textbook answer. Every politician dreams of such policies, but the reality is they’re rarely feasible.”

“I’ve prepared a policy designed specifically for the presidential race. I think you’ll find it very appealing.”

At that, Congressman Choi’s eyes widened with sudden interest.

After all, he had already experienced the taste of victory—winning a majority in the general election—thanks to policies crafted by the Taewoo Group. Naturally, his attention was piqued.

“If we could roll out policies and pledges similar to the ones from the general election, it would greatly help in solidifying support.”

“But this is the presidential election. The scale must be far greater than any general election policy. And it must also carry enough destructive force to instantly bury all controversies surrounding the current administration.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine the scale of the policy you have in mind, Chairman Kim.”

Smiling, I raised seven fingers.

The first digit was a seven. As for how many zeros trailed behind it—that was left to Congressman Choi’s imagination.

“Since you said it’s larger in scale than the general election, I doubt it’s seven trillion. Are you suggesting, perhaps, a seventy-trillion-won policy? But the general election has barely ended—do you truly have the capacity to pour in another seventy trillion?”

“There’s more than enough capacity. But you’re still short a zero. I’m not talking about seventy trillion. I’m envisioning a seven-hundred-trillion-won policy.”

“Seven hundred trillion!”

Were his eyes always this large?

Congressman Choi’s eyes bulged so wide they looked ready to pop right out.

“To bury every issue, wouldn’t we need something on the scale of seven hundred trillion won? And of course, it must be a pledge led by you, Congressman Choi, and the National Economy Party.”

“Where in the world would you even invest seven hundred trillion?”

“I’m thinking of building a semiconductor city.”

The Taewoo Group already owned a massive semiconductor complex.

But this wasn’t a matter of a single complex anymore—it was a plan to construct a semiconductor city on the scale of a metropolis. Seven hundred trillion won would be more than enough to make it possible.

“You mean to invest seven hundred trillion into semiconductors alone? I’m not in a position to meddle in Taewoo Group’s affairs, but isn’t that far too excessive?”

“Do you think semiconductors are called the ‘rice of industry’ for nothing? Rice, no matter how much you grow, always has a use. And semiconductors have now become strategic weapons in their own right.”

“But China has already launched its ‘semiconductor rise.’ The Chinese government is pouring staggering sums into the industry. If they flood the market with cheap semiconductors, won’t that deal a heavy blow?”

China’s “semiconductor rise.”

The word itself meant rising to the very top.

China wasn’t aiming for semiconductors alone. It was striving to dominate electronics, automobiles, and many other industries.

In particular, it was pouring enormous investments into LCDs, semiconductors, and shipbuilding—industries where Korea was practically holding a monopoly.

“Other industries, sure—China’s overwhelming capital and workforce can tilt the balance there. But semiconductors? China can never catch up with Korea’s technology. And even if they did, it wouldn’t matter much.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Think about how China grows. They ignore patents, copy good products, and sell them cheaply. But most semiconductor patents are owned by the United States.”

Indeed, most core semiconductor technologies were held by the U.S.

The only reason large-scale semiconductor plants weren’t in America was that it was far more efficient to produce them in Asia.

But China producing semiconductors while disregarding U.S. patents?

The U.S. would never stand by idly. That was precisely why semiconductors would sit at the very center of future U.S.–China trade disputes.

“True, with the U.S. holding the patents, exports would be difficult. But China’s domestic market alone is big enough to sustain them.”

“There’s no need to overstate it. When China launched its semiconductor rise two years ago, the investment amounted to a mere twenty-five trillion won. They say they’ll soon add another thirty-five trillion, but even then, it pales in comparison to what Taewoo is planning to invest.”

China was chasing supremacy across multiple industries.

That meant it couldn’t concentrate all its firepower on semiconductors alone.

And while twenty-five trillion won was by no means a small sum, it was nowhere near enough to reach the top of the global semiconductor industry.

“Are you saying you’ll invest seven hundred trillion won over several years?”

“I plan to invest one hundred forty trillion won annually for the next five years. Now is the perfect time to pour capital into semiconductors. In truth, we’re already a little late.”

“Late? But hasn’t Taewoo Group already spent tens of trillions completing its semiconductor complexes?”

“That alone isn’t enough. Within three years at the latest, the semiconductor city must begin partial operations.”

Building a semiconductor plant itself didn’t take long.

A small factory could be completed within a year, and even large-scale facilities typically took three years.

But theory rarely matched reality. In practice, it often took five to ten years before a plant became fully operational.

The culprit was always the delays in breaking ground.

Regulations, land acquisition, endless procedures—before construction could even start, countless obstacles had to be cleared.

And to minimize those hurdles, political backing was indispensable.

“So, in exchange for this seven-hundred-trillion investment, you’re asking the government to handle the groundwork and approvals?”

“Who would dare oppose the number-one pledge of a presidential candidate?”

“If seven hundred trillion won is poured into the region, it will be a tremendous boost for Korea’s economy. Very well, Chairman Kim. If that’s your will, I’ll make the semiconductor city my top campaign pledge for this election!”

Assemblyman Choi Jaeseok’s face lit up.

Seven hundred trillion won—what could possibly compete with an issue of such weight?

Rather than dark themes like judging the current administration, a bold and positive issue like a semiconductor city fit the People’s Economic Party far better—and would be far more effective in winning over the public’s votes.