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CH472 | GSI
🕑 Added 2025-09-10 15:32:52 +0000 UTCUnder a cloudless, clear sky, Seok-won stood at one corner of the vast Seoul Airport apron.
Dressed in a perfectly tailored suit and wearing Ray-Ban sunglasses, he exuded an air of complete ease, flanked by his entourage.
In contrast, the personnel from the Defense Science Research Institute were visibly tense, anxiously checking the time again and again as they waited for the transport plane scheduled to arrive today.
After some time had passed,
Han Ji-sung, standing nearby, raised an arm and pointed toward the sky.
“Chairman, it looks like it’s arriving.”
Seok-won lifted his gaze. In the distance, what had appeared as a tiny dot rapidly grew larger, revealing its immense silhouette.
It was the AN-225, the world’s largest cargo aircraft, nicknamed Mriya, meaning “dream” in Ukrainian.
Equipped with six turbofan engines—three on each wing—producing a combined 30,776 horsepower, it could carry up to 250 tons of cargo in a single flight. Truly a monstrous machine.
“When I saw it in Antonov’s hangar in Ukraine, I was worried it was so massive it might not even fly. Seeing it come through the sky like this, all I can say is—it’s incredible,” said an awed Han Ji-sung.
Seok-won’s lips curved into a deep smile.
“True to its name, Dream carries our hopes for space.”
“Really, that’s the perfect way to put it,” Han Ji-sung replied.
The AN-225, which successfully completed its historic first test flight in 1988, was originally designed by the Soviet Union to transport the Buran space shuttle to its launch site.
However, during the production of the second unit, the Soviet Union collapsed, and the Buran project was canceled, halting the program entirely.
As a result, both the first completed unit and the second partially built aircraft were left stored in Antonov’s hangars in Ukraine, almost abandoned.
And it didn’t end there—the six D-18T engines that had been installed on the completed prototype were all removed and repurposed as spare parts for other transport aircraft, a pitiful fate indeed.
When Seok-won had first gone to Ukraine to transport the Proton rocket to Korea and saw the AN-225 Mriya stored in Antonov’s hangar, he had been deeply disappointed.
Neglected for years, it was covered in rust in several places, and both wings were grotesquely stripped of engines with wiring hanging everywhere—it looked every bit like scrap metal.
“That’s how it ended up that I basically acquired the entire AN-225 Mriya fleet myself.”
When he inquired whether it could be repaired and used again, Antonov, eager to get rid of the cumbersome aircraft that was merely occupying space in the hangar, handed it over for the cost of restoration.
As a result, the second unit, left incomplete, was now being actively assembled at the Antonov factory.
Looking up at the massive silhouette of the Mriya transport plane, Seok-won said,
“I spent a hundred million dollars thinking it was worthless junk. Seeing it restored and flying again… I think that was the right call.”
“Indeed,” Han Ji-sung agreed, gazing up at the sky alongside him.
With Daehung Group’s recent acquisition of Korea Express, they could fully exploit the AN-225’s enormous cargo capacity.
“Not only that, but with its sheer size and payload capabilities, it could serve as a platform to launch space rockets from high altitude, beyond the atmosphere.”
Though the decision had been made on impulse, it now seemed like a bargain.
Meanwhile, the 84-meter-long AN-225 Mriya majestically appeared over the airport, cutting through the sky with its colossal bulk.
The sheer size and presence of the aircraft made everyone nearby tilt their heads upward in awe.
“Wow! That’s incredible!”
“Next to that, a 737 looks like a toy.”
“Completely transporting a rocket like that… this is insane.”
As if showing off its dominance, the AN-225 circled the airport, casting a massive shadow, before slowly lowering its altitude with all 34 wheels extended, approaching the runway.
Everyone held their breath as the wheels touched the ground, and the aircraft smoothly landed.
“Waaaah!”
People couldn’t help but cheer and clap at the sight.
Seok-won, outwardly composed, secretly let out a sigh of relief that both the transport plane and its cargo had arrived safely.
Following guidance from the control tower, the AN-225 Mriya slowly taxied onto the apron and came to a complete stop at the designated spot, engines fully shut down.
“Seeing it again… this thing is massive.”
As Seok-won muttered under his breath, the sheer scale of the AN-225 before him was truly overwhelming.
Even the Boeing 737 parked a short distance away looked diminutive by comparison.
Everyone else was similarly awed by the immense presence conveyed by its size and weight.
After a moment, the nose of the aircraft slowly lifted like the mouth of a giant, and the cargo bay doors opened.
Bathed in sunlight, a huge cylindrical object emerged from the shadowed cargo hold—it was the Proton rocket.
Workers quickly began setting up the pre-prepared special rails and large trailers.
[Connection complete!]
“Check again to make sure there are no loosely fastened parts!”
A middle-aged foreman, dressed in a one-piece work suit and helmet, shouted into his radio. The workers busily moved their hands, meticulously inspecting the special rails for any issues.
[No issues!]
[This side’s checked as well.]
The foreman nodded slightly, then pressed the radio’s transmit button and said:
“Okay. Now move the cargo out. Take it slow—no mistakes!”
[Understood!]
The worker holding the controller pressed the button firmly.
With a whirring sound of machinery, the specially designed rails began to operate.
Gradually, the Proton rocket, painted bright white, began to emerge from the cargo hold.
The first-stage rocket, equipped with six bundled RD-275 engines, appeared first, followed by the second, third, and fourth stages, still bearing the Russian flag and space agency insignia.
At 53 meters in height, the Proton rocket fit comfortably inside the 84-meter-long AN-225 Mriya.
However, to make ground transportation manageable, the rocket had been divided into three sections at the Khrunichev factory.
As each section of the Proton rocket was revealed, the eyes of Dr. Kwak Yun-shin and the other researchers from the Defense Science Research Institute began to shine with excitement.
“This… this is really the Proton rocket…!”
“Look at that. It’s not a test vehicle with mock engines—it’s the real launch rocket.”
“I can’t believe I’m seeing it with my own eyes.”
The researchers murmured in astonishment, their faces full of awe.
Dr. Kwak Yun-shin, head of the missile division, looked especially like a child who had just received a Christmas present, overflowing with excitement and anticipation.
From the moment the Proton rocket first appeared to now being carefully loaded onto the massive trailers, he had not taken his eyes off it for even a second, a testament to his obsessive fascination.
He seemed ready to disassemble every single bolt and examine the rocket firsthand at any moment.
“They must have lasers shooting out of their eyes,” Han Ji-sung muttered.
Seok-won glanced sideways at the researchers, who were practically vibrating with excitement.
“It’s not surprising—they’re getting a chance to examine Russia’s most advanced rocket technology up close, something they can’t usually do.”
“That’s true. Not only the rocket itself but also a mountain of related technical documents… today must feel like Christmas to them.”
Seok-won let out a small chuckle and watched as the work continued.
As the rocket, divided into three sections, was loaded onto three large trailers, the researchers, unable to contain themselves, approached for a closer look.
“Take photos! Quick, take photos!”
“The feel of this fuselage…!”
“Damn, those Russians really made something incredible!”
Seeing the researchers clustered dangerously close to the rocket, the foreman barked loudly.
“Hey! I said it’s dangerous!”
“We’ll just look a little closer.”
“Just a moment.”
“No, you’re going to get hurt! Move, everyone!”
With a sweep of his muscular arm, the foreman forced the researchers to step back reluctantly.
“Hey, don’t shove.”
“Alright, alright, we got it.”
Still unable to tear their eyes away from the Proton rocket, the researchers displayed a subtle glint of obsession in their gaze.
No joke—they seemed like they would spend the entire night disassembling the Proton rocket the moment it arrived at the Defense Science Research Institute in Daejeon.
After dozens of personnel had labored for quite some time, all sections of the Proton rocket were finally loaded onto the three large trailers.
The cargo hold was then completely covered with a large waterproof tarp, making it impossible to see what was inside.
With that, the convoy, escorted by K-131 military trucks carrying armed military police at the front and rear, proceeded in formation across the apron.
“Let’s head back as well.”
Once the convoy disappeared from sight, Seok-won turned and climbed into the back seat of a waiting Mercedes-Benz luxury sedan.
“Where to, sir?” Han Ji-sung asked from the passenger seat, fastening his seatbelt.
“To the company.”
“Understood.”
With the ignition already on, Joo Geun-sung pressed the accelerator smoothly, and the car began moving.
Exiting through the main gate, crafted in a traditional style with green tiles, the Mercedes sped onto the Gyeongbu Expressway, heading toward Gangnam, where Daehung Venture Capital was located.
Leaning back into the leather seat and watching the passing scenery, Seok-won felt his phone vibrate in his inner pocket.
Seeing Landon’s name appear on the screen, he immediately pressed the call button.
“Looks like the negotiation is over, judging by your call.”
[Yes. We’ve reached an agreement to acquire 100% of ARM for 1 billion dollars without listing on the London Stock Exchange.]
Seok-won’s face lit up with a broad smile at the awaited news.
“Good work. Let’s proceed with the contract immediately, no delays.”
[Understood.]
Landon paused briefly before continuing in a worried tone.
[However, sir, even though you instructed us to proceed with the acquisition, this company was on the verge of being abandoned by Apple after being completely outcompeted by Intel in the CPU market. I’m not sure it’s worth spending such a considerable amount to acquire it.]
CPUs, which serve as the brain of a PC, were designed mainly in two forms.
One was Intel’s X86 architecture, based on CISC, capable of high-performance computations but consuming significant power. The other was ARM architecture, using RISC, which offered low power consumption and minimal heat generation.
At that time, computers were primarily stationary devices installed in homes or offices, so power efficiency and heat management were far less critical than raw computational performance.
Naturally, Intel’s X86 architecture dominated the CPU market, leaving ARM struggling to gain a foothold.
“But a few years later, smartphones completely flipped the situation.”
As the market shifted from PCs to mobile devices, ARM’s strengths—low power consumption and minimal heat generation—began to shine.
The fact that ARM’s valuation skyrocketed from 1 billion dollars to 32 billion dollars—32 times higher—in just 18 years vividly illustrated this market shift.
“If I can acquire ARM, the goose that lays golden eggs, for just 1 billion dollars, it’s practically a steal.”
Seok-won tightened his grip on his phone and replied,
“In a few years, you’ll understand why I bought ARM.”
[Is that so…]
Though still somewhat skeptical, Landon chose not to argue further.
[Then I’ll finalize the contract and contact you again afterward.]
“Do that.”
Ending the call, Seok-won allowed himself a satisfied smile as he thought about the profits he would soon generate through ARM.
