The relentless pace of preparing for the 1997 crisis – establishing the Silent Treasury, grooming future leaders, acquiring strategic media assets – had been exhilarating, yet taxing. Min-jun, now sixteen, recognized the importance of periodic strategic clarity, moments of calm to define the ambitious twenty-year trajectory for Future Mind Co. He needed his key lieutenants, Mr. Park and Han Seo-jin, not just to execute, but to truly internalize the vastness of his vision. Jeju Island, with its serene beauty and isolation, offered the perfect backdrop for what he disguised as a much-needed corporate retreat.
The "Vacation" Disguise
"Mr. Park, Ms. Han," Min-jun had announced with a rare, almost mischievous twinkle in his eye, "your dedication to Future Mind has been extraordinary. I believe a short break is in order. Jeju Island. A weekend of relaxation, natural beauty, and… perhaps some light discussion."
Mr. Park, who had been dreaming of a proper vacation since the Gangnam headquarters construction began, nearly beamed. "Jeju! Wonderful, Min-jun-ah! I'll pack my fishing rod and my best camera! Fresh sea air, no spreadsheets, no cryptic online forums!" He imagined days of leisurely strolls and delicious seafood.
Seo-jin, ever more perceptive, raised a sculpted eyebrow. "Light discussion, Chairman? With you? I suspect 'light' in your vocabulary might translate to 'mind-bending' for us mere mortals." But she smiled, intrigued despite herself. She packed a single, slim legal brief, just in case "light discussion" involved a new international treaty.
Min-jun simply nodded, a silent acknowledgment of her insight, and a quiet amusement at Mr. Park's overly enthusiastic preparations. He had arranged for a secluded, modern villa nestled on a quiet stretch of Jeju's coastline, far from tourist crowds. It was equipped with the latest (for 1995) in secure communication and projection technology.
They arrived on a warm, clear Friday afternoon in late September. The island's volcanic landscapes, lush greenery, and the pristine blue of the ocean were breathtaking. Mr. Park immediately started snapping photos. Seo-jin breathed in the fresh sea air, a rare moment of peace.
The next morning, however, the "vacation" took its inevitable turn. As Mr. Park emerged, stretching and humming a cheerful tune, ready for a leisurely breakfast, he found Min-jun had transformed the elegant living area. A large, portable screen was set up, glowing with intricate diagrams and data visualizations projected from a discreet console – the Omni-7, disguised as a sleek media player.
"Good morning, Mr. Park, Ms. Han," Min-jun greeted, already sipping a cup of green tea. "I trust you slept well. Now, to our 'light discussion.' I believe it's time to chart Future Mind Co.'s 2020 Vision Roadmap."
Mr. Park's jaw dropped. He looked from the screen to Min-jun, then back at his fishing rod leaning innocently in the corner. "Min-jun-ah! The fishing! The fresh air! This is… a work retreat?"
Seo-jin let out a soft laugh. "I told you, Mr. Park. 'Light' is subjective." She, however, felt a surge of professional excitement. This was precisely the kind of intellectual challenge she thrived on.
Min-jun merely smiled. "Relaxation is important, Mr. Park, but so is clarity, especially when charting the next two decades. We have secured our present. Now, we plan our future."
For the next three days, the tranquil Jeju villa became a crucible of future thought. Min-jun, acting as facilitator and primary visionary, guided them through concepts that would not become mainstream for decades.
He began with Artificial Intelligence. "Imagine machines that don't just follow instructions, but learn, predict, and even innovate. Not science fiction, but a logical extension of pattern recognition and computational power. How can Future Mind Co. leverage this? Not just for search, but for advanced predictive modeling in finance, for optimizing complex logistics, for personalized services that anticipate user needs." Mr. Park, still occasionally looking longingly at his fishing rod, grappled with the abstract. "So… a really, really smart calculator?" he ventured. Seo-jin offered a dry smile. "More like a very patient, very powerful ghost in the machine, Mr. Park."
They delved into Biotechnology. Min-jun presented ideas on the cusp of discovery: genetic sequencing for disease prevention, the potential of personalized medicine tailored to an individual's DNA, and revolutionary methods for sustainable agriculture. "What if we could precisely target diseases years before symptoms appear? Or grow food with unprecedented efficiency, feeding billions? Future Mind won't just invest; we'll facilitate the research, create the platforms for discovery and commercialization."
The discussion then shifted to Data Sovereignty. "As the internet expands," Min-jun explained, "information will become the new oil. Who owns it? Who controls it? How do we protect individual privacy while enabling innovation? This will become a battleground. Future Mind will position itself as a guardian of data integrity and user autonomy." Seo-jin, her legal mind fully engaged, saw the immense complexity and the profound ethical implications. "This is not just law, Chairman," she mused. "This is philosophy. Defining the digital rights of future generations."
Finally, Min-jun introduced nascent concepts of the Metaverse. He wasn't talking about clunky VR headsets, but the theoretical underpinnings of persistent online worlds, digital identity, and virtual economies. "Imagine online spaces where people don't just browse, but live, create, and interact as digital extensions of themselves. Where virtual goods have real value, and digital communities foster profound connections. How do we build the infrastructure for such a world? How do we ensure its security and its societal benefit?" Mr. Park stared, dumbfounded. "So… like a really big, never-ending video game where people work?" he asked, scratching his head. Seo-jin simply shook hers, a bewildered smile playing on her lips. "The scale of this… it's overwhelming."
Between intense whiteboard sessions and complex data analyses, there were moments of quiet. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery hues, Mr. Park, Min-jun, and Seo-jin sat on the villa's patio, gazing out at the vast, shimmering ocean.
Mr. Park broke the silence, his voice unusually soft. "Min-jun-ah," he began, looking at the boy who was charting destinies. "Do you ever wonder how different you are? From everyone else? From me, from Ms. Han, from all the people you're guiding?" It wasn't a question of suspicion, but genuine curiosity, a gentle probing into the internal world of a unique being.
Min-jun looked out at the endless expanse of the sea, his profile silhouetted against the fading light. He considered the question, then replied, his voice barely above a whisper, "Often, Mr. Park. Every day, every decision, every glimpse of the future reminds me of the chasm between what I know and what others perceive. It can be… isolating."
He paused, then turned to face them, his eyes holding a depth that seemed ancient. "But difference," he continued, "is also a form of power. And with that power, comes an immense responsibility. A responsibility to act, to guide, to build, to protect. Not just for myself, but for the future I see."
Seo-jin listened, a profound understanding settling over her. She saw not just genius, but a silent burden, a quiet determination that transcended mere ambition. Min-jun wasn't playing a game; he was fulfilling a purpose.
They left Jeju Island feeling not rested in the conventional sense, but invigorated, their minds expanded, their understanding of Min-jun's vision for 2020 and beyond solidified. They were no longer just executives; they were co-architects, now fully committed to building Min-jun's future, no matter how extraordinary. The Island of Ideas had served its purpose, providing the strategic clarity needed to face the impending storm.