As 1996 unfurled, Min-jun's strategic preparations deepened. Having established a robust financial fortress and a discreet intelligence network with Pulse, his next move was to automate parts of his foresight, to harness raw computational power to process the unimaginable scale of data required for true predictive analytics. He sought to create a system that could learn and evolve, hidden from the prying eyes of the nascent internet.
He envisioned a powerful, dedicated server array, an offline brain that could tirelessly process complex algorithms. This was not a luxury; it was a necessity for the scale of operations he planned. Commercial servers of 1996 were woefully inadequate for the kind of deep learning and pattern recognition Min-jun needed.
Min-jun commissioned the building of a bespoke, custom server array, a colossal undertaking for the mid-90s. He codenamed it "Echo." Its purpose was singular: to handle advanced predictive AI learning entirely offline, isolated from any external network, ensuring absolute security and uncompromised computational purity. Mr. Park was, predictably, tasked with the logistical nightmare.
"Min-jun-ah," Mr. Park had groaned, staring at procurement lists detailing obscure, high-performance processors and specialized cooling units from overseas suppliers, "are you sure we can even buy these parts in Korea? This 'liquid-cooled heat sink' sounds like something out of a science fiction movie! And the cost… it's like building a small rocket!" Min-jun simply provided the precise specifications and the necessary funds, leaving Mr. Park to navigate the byzantine world of international component procurement and discrete shipping. The irony was not lost on Mr. Park; he was building a literal brain for an unseen entity, piece by expensive piece.
The silent assembly took place over months, cloaked in layers of secrecy. The components, once arrived, were carefully put together by a trusted team of engineers, all vetted and sworn to absolute discretion by Seo-jin. "Echo" was designed not just for raw power, but for endurance, built to hum away unseen, its purpose unknown to anyone but Min-jun and his inner circle.
This monumental task required more than just hardware; it needed a mind capable of interfacing with its raw power. Min-jun turned to the young autistic genius he had quietly observed online for months: Yoo Hyun-woo. Min-jun approached him through an anonymous scholarship offer to an exclusive, advanced summer coding seminar—a seminar Min-jun himself secretly funded and structured. Hyun-woo, socially awkward but intellectually ravenous, immediately stood out.
Min-jun began to work directly with Hyun-woo, carefully nurturing his unique talents. Their sessions were intense, bypassing conventional teaching methods. Min-jun taught Hyun-woo the intricate depths of kernel logic, the fundamental language through which software directly commanded hardware. He introduced him to the theoretical underpinnings of early Bayesian networks, explaining how probabilistic models could infer probabilities from incomplete data, the very foundation of much future AI. Hyun-woo absorbed it all, his mind a sponge for pure logic.
"Hyun-woo-ssi," Min-jun would explain, drawing complex diagrams, "imagine a world where every single data point whispers a probability. Bayesian networks allow us to listen to those whispers, to construct a complete picture of likelihood, even with uncertainty." Hyun-woo, in turn, would ask questions of startling insight, often pointing out a theoretical inefficiency Min-jun himself hadn't considered in his initial presentation. It was a partnership of two brilliant minds, bridging two eras.
Together, Min-jun and Hyun-woo began to build. They channeled their combined intellects into creating a rudimentary self-correcting financial agent. This was not a fully autonomous entity that could trade freely, but a highly sophisticated analytical tool. Running on Echo, it could process live market data, cross-reference it with Min-jun's predictive models, and then propose optimal investment strategies. It was revolutionary for 1996, a nascent form of algorithmic trading years ahead of its time.
Hyun-woo, typically withdrawn, found an unparalleled comfort in Min-jun's presence. Min-jun's quiet understanding of his unique thought processes, his appreciation for pure, unadulterated logic, made him feel truly seen. Their coding sessions were intense, fueled by instant noodles and a shared passion for dissecting complex systems. Hyun-woo, at first shy, slowly blossomed under Min-jun's tutelage, his confidence growing with each successful line of code. He saw Min-jun not just as a teacher, but as the only person in the world who truly understood the beauty of the machine's language, the silent poetry of code.
During one particularly late session, as they watched their financial agent flawlessly propose a complex arbitrage opportunity that hadn't yet appeared in any financial journal, Min-jun turned to Hyun-woo. His gaze was profound, looking not just at the boy, but at the boundless potential he represented.
"Hyun-woo-ssi," Min-jun stated, his voice resonating with deep conviction, "always remember this: Machines will never rule men. They are tools, extensions of our will. But the men who understand them, who truly grasp their power, and critically, how to wield them… will rule the world." He emphasized the distinction between being controlled by technology and controlling it, a crucial lesson for the coming age of AI.
Hyun-woo nodded, his eyes wide with understanding. He wasn't just learning to code; he was learning the true nature of power in the digital age. He saw the path Min-jun was laying out, a future where his unique genius could reshape entire industries, not by social maneuvering, but by the undeniable logic of code.
The final challenge was securing Echo. Min-jun knew such a powerful and covert asset could not be left exposed. Through a newly acquired real-estate shell company, Mr. Park discreetly purchased a struggling private school in Incheon. The dilapidated campus offered the perfect cover. Beneath its unassuming exterior, a secure, underground chamber was meticulously constructed.
The irony was palpable: a world-changing AI, capable of predicting and influencing global markets, was hidden beneath a bastion of conventional learning. Mr. Park oversaw the clandestine installation of Echo, a task fraught with comical moments of trying to explain why massive ventilation systems were needed under a school gym, or why armored doors were required for a "storage room." Echo now hummed quietly, its custom processors churning, its financial agent learning, all tucked away, off the grid, poised to play a crucial role in Min-jun's grand design.