Given the industry summit's massive clout and its real-time spotlight from national and global media, top executives took it seriously. CEOs of major firms would show up in person, ready to bask in the glow or risk crashing and burning. This was a stage where a company could rocket from obscurity to nationwide fame—or become a laughingstock overnight.
For Park Minho, it was a chance to showcase Hansung Technology's meteoric rise. If Hansung could ride the summit's media wave, breaking into the national market would be a breeze. A splash here could save billions in advertising costs—hundreds of millions of won in free publicity. The summit lasted just three days, plus two unspoken days for business networking, totaling five. Five days to earn that kind of exposure? Minho was all in.
"I'll attend the summit on time," Minho confirmed.
"Understood, President. I'll notify them," Secretary Chen Ho said with a nod, turning to leave. As Hansung's sharp and efficient secretary, she was already on the task.
"Industry summit, huh?" Minho mused. "Wonder how many big shots will show. Will the two Kims show up?"
He was referring to the CEOs of Korea's internet titans, dubbed "Big Kim" and "Little Kim"—heads of the AliKor and TenCentKor empires. Growing up, Minho had followed their exploits, a mix of awe and curiosity. Their methods weren't always pristine, but their triumphs were undeniable. They were the era's victors.
Now, in 2004, Minho dreamed of clinking glasses with these giants, sharing stories with the heroes of his time. It'd be a badge of pride. Sure, Hansung was small—900 employees compared to their sprawling empires. To them, he was an ant they could squash without a thought. But Minho had the fire of a time-traveler. With his knowledge of future trends and the *Ultimate Imitation Emperor System*, he believed he'd one day stand shoulder-to-shoulder with them—or make them crane their necks to look up at him.
This was the era of opportunity, a time when even underdogs could soar. If Minho couldn't climb to their heights or surpass them, he'd have no one to blame but himself.
---
**May 21, 2004**
With Children's Day just 10 days away, Busan was buzzing. The city was decked out in crimson national flags and vibrant welcome banners, gearing up for the Busan Industry Summit—a spectacle renowned across Korea and beyond. Today, it wasn't just another day. Global entrepreneurs, government reps, and industry titans were descending on the city.
Confirmed attendees included delegates from Japan, China, Singapore, and even the U.S., all sending heavyweights to the summit. Busan was Asia's focal point, its every move beamed across the continent by Korean and international media. Though billed as a domestic event, its ripple effects could reshape Asia's economic landscape.
Ordinary folks, though, didn't care about geopolitics or economic structures. They were hooked on the juicy stuff: which global giants were showing up? Motorola, Nokia, Apple, Samsung, LG, Siemens, Mercedes-Benz, Volkswagen, Toyota, Mitsubishi, BMW, Walmart—the list read like a who's-who of world business. Their CEOs or top reps were confirmed, and that was the talk of the town.
Few private firms stood out: Saehan and KyungTech in mobiles; LenKor in computers; HaiKor and MeiKor in appliances. The internet giants stole the show—AliKor and BaiKor, plus smaller players like NetKor, SinaKor, and SouKor. State-run firms, with their stiff, official vibe, were ignored. People craved the drama and flair of private companies.
Amid the media frenzy, Hansung Technology and Park Minho's name were nowhere to be found. Not a headline, not a whisper among the public. Despite Hansung's rural takeover in Gyeonggi Province with the 29,900-won Hansung 2 Labor Edition—a feat that had mobile industry insiders buzzing—Minho was a nobody here. The summit was a galaxy of stars, and Hansung was a speck too small to notice.
---
**Busan, Hilton Hotel, Near the Summit Venue**
"Sir, our hotel is fully booked. You might try another one," said a poised receptionist, her smile polite but firm, at the check-in desk of Busan's grandest five-star Hilton.
Minho's secretary, Chen Ho, frowned. "Fully booked? Really? Half your windows are dark—barely a tenth of the rooms are lit. You sure about that?"
The receptionist faltered, caught off-guard. "Well… sir, we're reserving luxury suites for industry leaders and their top staff. I'm very sorry."
Chen Ho's eyes narrowed, catching the subtext. "So, you're saying Hansung Technology is too small-time to stay at your Hilton?"
"I'm so sorry!" the receptionist said, bowing slightly. But her eyes betrayed her—smug, dismissive. She clearly thought Hansung was beneath the Hilton's elite guest list during the summit.
Chen Ho bristled, ready to snap back, but Minho stayed calm. He'd expected this. Hansung was a minnow in a sea of sharks. The snub stung, but it fueled him. The receptionist's disdain was a reminder: Hansung wasn't a household name *yet*. This summit was his chance to change that.
He'd come to Busan to make waves, not beg for a room. Let the Hilton cater to the big dogs. Minho would find another hotel, prep for the summit, and show the world what Hansung could do. The receptionist's sneer? Just another hurdle. He'd make her eat that look when Hansung's name lit up the headlines.
---
(end of this chapter)