The table was forty feet long, made of imported mahogany that cost more than Min-jun’s apartment. At the head sat Chairman Jin Seok-hoon, the emperor of the Daegwang Group. He was sixty, with silver hair and eyes that looked like they had seen everything and found it all wanting.
To his right sat Jin Hyuk-jae, looking confident, tapping his fingers on the leather armrest.
"Next," the Chairman grunted, flipping a page in the briefing book. "The FinTech Division. Hyuk-jae."
Hyuk-jae stood up. "Yes, Father. As you know, DG Pay is dominating the market. We have 2 million active users. Our retention rate is 95%. I would like to introduce our summer intern, Kang Min-jun from SNU, who has prepared the detailed cohort analysis."
Min-jun stood up. He smoothed his tie. This was the moment. He walked to the podium. He plugged in his laptop.
"Honorable Chairman, Directors," Min-jun began, his voice steady. "The data confirms that DG Pay has achieved critical mass. However, the quality of that mass requires... nuance."
Hyuk-jae frowned slightly. Nuance? That wasn't in the rehearsal.
Min-jun pulled up a slide. [User Retention by Acquisition Channel]
"Users acquired through the Daegwang Insurance cross-promotion (the Auto Opt-In) show a 95% retention rate," Min-jun stated. "However, their transaction volume is near zero. They are 'Zombie Users.' They exist in the database, but they do not spend."
He clicked to the next slide. [Organic Users vs. Forced Users]
"In contrast, users who downloaded the app voluntarily show high transaction volume but a high churn rate. They leave because the app latency is too high compared to competitors like Toss."
The room went silent. You didn't criticize the product in front of the Chairman.
"So," Chairman Jin spoke, his voice low and gravelly. "You are saying my son's numbers are inflated with ghosts?"
Hyuk-jae stood up abruptly. "Father, the intern is misinterpreting the—"
"Sit down," the Chairman snapped. He looked at Min-jun. "Continue, Intern Kang. What is your recommendation?"
"We must pivot from 'Acquisition' to 'Engagement'," Min-jun said. "Stop forcing insurance customers to sign up. It costs server money and inflates vanity metrics. Instead, fix the latency. Direct API integration with the banks is the only way to survive the coming war with the tech giants."
The Chairman stared at Min-jun for a long, uncomfortable minute. Then, he nodded slowly. "Vanity metrics. I like that term. It sounds honest."
He turned to Hyuk-jae. "Did you hear him? Stop padding the numbers with insurance clients. Fix the damn latency."
Hyuk-jae’s face flushed a deep, humiliating red. He glared at Min-jun with pure hatred. Min-jun met his gaze impassively. I just saved you money, Hyuk-jae, Min-jun thought. But I also just proved to your father that you're a fraud.
September 5, 2014. Mirue Partners Office. Emergency Meeting.
"They are going to kill us," Lee Seung-gun said, his head in his hands.
Min-jun threw a document on the table. It was a leaked draft from the Financial Services Commission (FSC).
[Regulation on Supervision of Electronic Financial Transactions - Amendment] Article 15: Financial institutions must maintain physical separation of internal networks from the internet.
"Physical Network Separation," Park Dong-hoon, the lead engineer, read it and swore. "This is a dinosaur law. It means we can't use AWS (Amazon Web Services). It means we can't use Cloud. We have to build a physical data center with air-gapped servers."
"That costs 10 billion won," Ye-eun calculated. "And takes six months to build. We have neither."
"That's the point," Min-jun said. "Daegwang lobbied for this. They have physical server farms. Startups don't. This law isn't about security. It's an eviction notice for FinTech."
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"So we fold?" Seung-gun asked. "We can't comply. It's technically impossible for a cloud-native app."
"We don't comply," Min-jun said. "We get an exemption."
"Exemption? From the FSC? They are Daegwang's puppets!"
"Not all of them," Min-jun walked to the whiteboard. "The President is pushing the 'Creative Economy'. If her own regulators kill the poster child of the Creative Economy (Toss), she looks stupid."
Min-jun drew a box. The Regulatory Sandbox.
"There is a rumor," Min-jun said (knowing it was fact). "That the government is preparing a 'Sandbox' program to test new technologies without current regulations applying. It launches in November."
"November is too late. The audit is in October."
"Then we force the issue," Min-jun turned to Dong-hoon. "Dong-hoon, can you hack DG Pay?"
"What?"
"Not steal money. Just... demonstrate vulnerability."
"Their legacy code is swiss cheese. Give me a weekend and a pot of coffee, and I can bypass their encryption."
"Good," Min-jun smiled. "We aren't going to hack them maliciously. We are going to hold a 'Security Seminar'."
Min-jun outlined the plan.
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Organize a "FinTech Security Hackathon" at SNU.
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Invite the FSS regulators as judges.
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Have "White Hat Hackers" (Dong-hoon's team) attack a simulation of a physical legacy server (Daegwang style) vs. a Cloud server (Toss style).
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Prove publicly that the "Physical Separation" rule actually makes systems slower to patch and less secure than Cloud.
"We humiliate the regulation itself," Ye-eun realized. "We show that the law is dangerous, not the startup."
"Exactly. We make the regulators look incompetent if they enforce the old rule. And then, we hand them the solution: The Sandbox."
September 20, 2014. SNU Engineering Auditorium. The White Hat Showdown.
The banner read: [Future Finance Security Forum]. In the front row sat three grim-faced officials from the FSS, arms crossed. Next to them sat Hong Ye-eun, representing the "Industry Perspective."
On stage, two screens were set up. Left Screen: "Legacy Bank Server" (Physical Separation). Right Screen: "Toss Cloud Server" (Logical Separation).
"Begin!"
Park Dong-hoon sat at a laptop. He launched a DDoS script.
Right Screen (Toss): The AWS auto-scaling kicked in instantly. The traffic was absorbed. The firewall updated automatically. System Status: STABLE.
Left Screen (Legacy): The server choked. The "Physical Gap" meant patches couldn't be deployed remotely. An IT admin (an actor) had to physically run to the server with a USB. System Status: CRASHED.
The audience gasped. The FSS officials shifted uncomfortably. They had been told by Daegwang lobbyists that physical separation was the "Gold Standard." They were watching it fail in real-time.
Min-jun took the microphone. "Honorable Regulators. The law was written in 2004. The iPhone didn't exist. AWS didn't exist. Daegwang Securities wants you to enforce a 2004 law to protect 2014 money. As you can see... that is a security risk."
He pointed to the crashed screen. "If North Korea attacks tomorrow, do you want a system that scales instantly, or one where a guy has to run to the basement with a floppy disk?"
One of the FSS directors—a younger man who had been appointed by the new administration—nodded. "The point is valid," the official muttered. "The rigid application of Article 15 seems... obsolete."
Min-jun caught Ye-eun's eye. Got them.
October 15, 2014. The Verdict.
The official announcement came from the Financial Services Commission.
[Guidance on Electronic Financial Supervision] "To foster the FinTech industry, the FSC will introduce a 'Regulatory Sandbox' for qualified startups. Companies accepted into the Sandbox may substitute Physical Network Separation with 'Logical Separation' if they meet enhanced encryption standards."
Viva Republica (Toss) was listed as the first applicant.
In the Mirue Partners office, champagne corks popped. Lee Seung-gun slumped into a beanbag chair, exhausted but alive. "We survived," he whispered.
Min-jun didn't drink. He stood by the window. He checked his phone. Daegwang Securities Stock: -2% on the news.
Jin Hyuk-jae had spent millions lobbying for the law. Min-jun had dismantled it with a projector and a hacker.
But the phone buzzed again. Unknown Number.
"Hello?"
"You're very clever, Intern Kang." It was Hyuk-jae. His voice was icy.
"Director Jin. To what do I owe the call?"
"You played my father. You played the FSS. And you played me. I underestimated you."
"I was just doing my job, sir. Protecting the ecosystem."
"The ecosystem is about to get very harsh," Hyuk-jae said. "You stopped the regulation. Fine. But Toss needs bank partners to operate. I still sit on the board of Daegwang Bank. And I have friends at Shinhan, Woori, and Hana."
"Are you threatening a blockade?"
"I'm promising an embargo. Let's see how long your little app survives when every bank in Korea cuts off the API pipe. Enjoy your victory, Min-jun. It's your last."
The line went dead.
Min-jun lowered the phone. The regulatory war was won. The banking war was just beginning.
"Ye-eun," Min-jun called out.
"Yeah?"
"Don't get too drunk. We need to fly to San Francisco."
"San Francisco? Why?"
"Hyuk-jae is going to block us from the Korean banks. We need a partner he can't bully."
"Who?"
"PayPal," Min-jun lied (he was actually targeting a specific Silicon Valley VC who had leverage over Korean banks). "Or maybe... we just buy our own bank."
"Buy a bank? With what money?"
"Not a bank," Min-jun corrected. "An Internet Bank license. K-Bank and Kakao Bank are launching in 2017. We need to be part of the consortium."
Min-jun looked at the calendar. Late 2014. The "Unicorn Farm" had survived the frost. But now, the Titans were waking up.
[TRANSACTION LOG]
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Date: Oct 2014
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Entity: Mirue Partners
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Action: Successfully Lobbied for "Regulatory Sandbox".
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Asset Value: Toss Valuation stable (Crisis Averted).
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Personal Status: Internship Ended. Identity as "Enemy of Daegwang" confirmed by Hyuk-jae.
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Next Move: The Internet Bank License War.