Chapter 31

WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Arsène

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◈ The Conglomerate Heir Just Wants to Fail ◈

Chapter 31

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The presidents left the Vice Chairman's office and closed the door behind them.

Escorted by a secretary, the four presidents moved from the thirty-third floor to the large conference room on the thirtieth. Only then, as if they had agreed beforehand, did they all let out the sighs they had been holding in.

“Phew.”

“Vice Chairman Kang truly is someone ordinary people can't hope to understand.”

President Oh of Daeseung Bio had put his complete inability to understand the Vice Chairman's orders in the most diplomatic terms possible.

President Park of Daeseung Heavy Industries gave a bitter smile.

“Hmm... Still, by global standards, our system has been somewhat lacking.”

President Kim of Daeseung Chemicals said this as he looked once more at the notebook packed with what he had just written down.

.

“First, buy whatever equipment, materials, and personnel the researchers say they need. I mean all of it. Let them focus solely on research without worrying about money or administrative procedures.”

Everyone nodded and took notes at the Vice Chairman's first instruction.

After all, they agreed with the direction of drastically expanding the R&D budget.

“The researchers might fool around a little with the equipment or materials along the way. So what? It's just pocket change. Do you think you can accomplish anything big by begrudging them that? At least let them play to their hearts' content with expensive experimental equipment. If they play around enough, won't something come out of it?”

They understood his next words as meaning that they should create an environment where researchers could freely exercise their creativity.

His wording had been a little extreme, but wasn't that how those big-nosed foreigners in Silicon Valley across the Pacific supposedly did their research?

“You mean a culture that isn't afraid of failure.”

At President Oh's words, Vice Chairman Kang smiled brightly and snapped his fingers.

“That's exactly it. No, we should even offer failure incentives. As long as they properly submit a report on what they failed at, why they failed, and what they learned in the process, give them a reward.”

Failure incentives...

They had heard that some overseas companies used such systems.

But would it suit Korean culture?

While the senior executive team considered the changes this new system would bring, Vice Chairman Kang gave another instruction.

“And most importantly, even if they're employees of our company, if they hold a patent that contributes to sales, pay them royalties without a cap according to proper evaluation standards. Isn't it only natural to properly compensate people for their hard work?”

Daeseung and other major Korean corporations paid compensation to researchers who developed technologies under employee invention compensation regulations.

It was customary to give a set reward when a patent was filed, then pay additional performance bonuses based on contribution once the technology was commercialized and generated sales.

Some companies had adopted the concept of running royalties, but even those had explicit caps. They never exceeded 50 million to 100 million won, and even the rare cases of someone receiving 1 billion won only circulated through the industry as rumors.

“Vice Chairman, are you saying...?”

Failure incentives were unconventional, but they could be seen as a kind of investment.

Uncapped royalties were another matter.

“Of course, Vice Chairman, we fully understand your desire to cherish our researchers and help them focus on R&D, but realistically... that would be difficult. The employee invention compensation system already operates according to legally stipulated standards. Providing additional royalties on top of that could create issues of fairness.”

“That's right, Vice Chairman.”

President Park of Daeseung Heavy Industries spoke with a kindly smile, like an uncle gently admonishing a young nephew.

“Researchers conduct their work with salaries and research funding from the company. The research facilities and samples they use are all Daeseung assets. Therefore, any patents produced from that work naturally become company assets.”

President Oh of Daeseung Bio shook his head as well.

“Moreover, if only a particular research team receives exceptional compensation, other researchers' morale could suffer. Individual genius matters in R&D, but in the end, it is achieved through the collaboration and teamwork of countless researchers. A policy that creates a sense of disparity could weaken the entire organization's research and development capabilities in the long term.”

“Researchers' loyalty and passion are important, but they can't be bought with money alone. It is enough to provide pride, honor, and a stable research environment.”

President Kim summed up again.

“The researchers will be very pleased to learn that you care about their treatment, Vice Chairman. We will introduce an incentive system more than three times as generous as the current one to further raise their morale.”

But Vice Chairman Kang shook his head.

“No, President Kim. How much did the researcher who received the largest incentive at Daeseung Chemicals last year receive?”

President Kim hesitated for a moment before answering.

“Well... At Daeseung Chemicals last year, the principal researcher with the greatest achievements received executive-level treatment, along with a special performance bonus of 50 million won.”

The other presidents nodded as though it were only natural.

That was the best treatment in the industry.

“50 million won... I see. Then even three times that is only 150 million won, isn't it?”

Then Vice Chairman Kang suddenly said something unexpected.

“Gentlemen, do you happen to know Pink Eyes?”

“...Pink... Eyes?”

Caught off guard by the question, the four presidents could only stare blankly at one another.

For middle-aged men with no interest in K-pop, it was an utterly unfamiliar name.

“Do you mean... that idol group?”

President Oh, who was at least relatively young, asked cautiously.

“Yes, that's right. I heard that Pink Eyes' leader recently bought a building in Hannam-dong. For 9.5 billion won. In cash.”

9.5 billion won.

Even to people who had spent their whole lives as executives at major corporations, it was a staggering sum.

“Gentlemen. Some people make nearly 10 billion won a year by dancing and singing. Yet our finest talent, the people responsible for Daeseung's future and creating value worth hundreds of billions of won, receive only 50 million won. Do you think that's normal?”

The Vice Chairman was not looking at the small well called Daeseung Group.

He was competing with the entertainment industry, the sports world, and every company around the globe for South Korea's best talent.

They realized how narrow their view had been, and they were too ashamed to lift their heads.

The image of themselves boasting of the best treatment within Daeseung's fence felt endlessly shabby.

The Vice Chairman was declaring a nationwide war for talent.

“Let me say it again. There is no cap. Evaluate their efforts properly, according to the value they create.”

.

Once the new R&D compensation system was implemented, the concerns raised by the senior executive team began to become reality.

Daeseung Chemicals' Polymer Research Team 3 had succeeded, after years of research, in commercializing a high-efficiency catalyst technology that could dramatically improve the efficiency of the production process.

Their good fortune was that the research had run slightly late, allowing them to become the first team to receive the new compensation system immediately after the Vice Chairman's guidelines were announced.

As promised, the team members received exceptional incentives worth tens of millions of won each.

They cheered, and during their team dinner, they repeatedly cried, “Long live the Vice Chairman!”

Up to this point, it remained within the range of the positive morale boost the presidents had expected.

The real incident occurred six months later.

One ordinary Wednesday afternoon, the youngest researcher on the team opened their banking app on their phone to clear their head for a moment, then had no choice but to doubt their own eyes.

It was not payday, yet the deposit in their account far exceeded an entire year's salary.

Sender: Daeseung Chemicals (Patent-C238)

“Te-Team Leader! Wh-What is this? I think money was deposited by mistake!”

At the youngest member's cry, every team member in the office gathered around.

The team leader calmly checked their own account as well.

Their account showed an amount several times larger than the youngest member's.

On the day the Vice Chairman's instructions came down, the team leader had hounded the HR and legal teams until they had perfectly memorized every clause of the newly revised employee invention compensation regulations.

“It wasn't deposited by mistake. The catalyst technology we developed saved about 50 billion won in total costs after being applied in the field over the last half year. Three percent of that is our team's running guarantee, and this is the amount distributed according to each person's share.”

At the team leader's calm explanation, one member asked back in disbelief.

“Th-That's insane. So we'll get this amount every six months now?”

“As long as the patent is in use, yes. And the company is actively pursuing licensing this technology out, so five percent of the profits from that will be ours too.”

Silence fell over the office.

The one who broke the suffocating quiet was the youngest researcher, who had been unable to close their mouth since earlier.

“Team Leader. Does this... really keep coming in even if we leave the company?”

“Yes. The patent shares belong to us, after all. Don't tell me...?”

Before the team leader could finish, the looks in the team members' eyes began to change subtly.

They no longer thought about their next research project or promotion.

Instead, Gangnam apartment prices, dream car lists, and routes for trips around the world filled their minds.

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A few months later, two people from Polymer Research Team 3 submitted their resignations.

One posted a photo from an airport lounge on social media with the caption, “Now I can go to Mojito and have a Maldives too¹.”

The other quietly left the company, bought a small building near their hometown, and opened a café.

When the presidents heard this news, they clicked their tongues and said, “See? I knew this would happen.”

It seemed their concerns were becoming reality. Organizational discipline would collapse, and talented people who had gotten a taste for money would leave one after another.

.

I looked over the report Lee Jinju, Chief of Staff, had submitted and smiled with satisfaction.

Two Daeseung Chemicals researchers had resigned.

At last, my plan was beginning to work.

Once key talent got a taste for money and began leaving one after another, R&D capabilities would naturally weaken, leading directly to a decline in the group's overall competitiveness.

Yes. This was a very desirable development.

Satisfied, I circled the section of the report listing departing employees.

.

But the true aces, the ones mad about research, reacted completely differently.

Having landed on piles of cash, they did not leave the company. Instead, they threw themselves into research even more fiercely.

Money was only a secondary concern.

What excited them was the environment itself, one that let them pursue the research they wanted without worrying about money or facing restrictions.

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