[Russian “SS Algorithm” Terror Renders Existing RSA Cryptosystem Virtually Powerless]
[Global Smart Home Appliance Hacking Crisis, Wave of Private Video Leaks]
[Even Nuclear Power Plants at Risk. In-Depth Analysis: What Is the SS Algorithm?]
Breaking-news captions scrolled across the bottom of the screen. The studio was quieter than usual. The anchor, wearing a grave expression, looked into the camera and bowed his head.
“Good evening, viewers. Today, we face the greatest threat since the dawn of digital civilization. The so-called SS Algorithm, believed to have originated in Russia, is devastating security systems across the world. We have invited an expert to discuss the matter in detail. Joining us is Professor Kim Jiyun of KAIST.”
The camera faded out, then slowly zoomed in.
Neatly tied-back hair. A white blouse. Jiyun bowed her head with a calm expression.
“Good evening. I’m Kim Jiyun.”
“Thank you for being here. I apologize, but let’s get straight to the point. Professor, what exactly is this SS Algorithm that has thrown the world into such chaos?”
Jiyun answered his question calmly.
“SS stands for Shor and Seoha. I don’t know who the developer is, but they took the names of the two people who provided the theoretical foundation for the birth of this algorithm.”
The anchor tilted his head.
“Seoha? That must be the Yu Seoha we know, correct? It doesn’t seem to be the hacker’s name.”
“That’s right. The SS Algorithm is based on the theory Dr. Peter Shor presented in 1994. It’s called Shor’s algorithm, and in theory, it can break modern RSA encryption in mere minutes. But that was always a future threat. The condition was that it required a quantum computer.”
The anchor nodded as if he understood.
“And that’s where the other S comes in.”
“Exactly. In the process of proving the Riemann hypothesis, Yu Seoha discovered a method to more narrowly specify the distribution of prime numbers. When those two were combined, a monster was born—one capable of destroying existing cryptosystems even at the level of ordinary supercomputers.”
“Ah! So that’s why it’s double S. As a humanities major, I thought of the Schutzstaffel, the SS.”
Jiyun burst into laughter.
“That may have been intentional as well. The destructive image of the Nazi SS does suit this algorithm.”
“So it carried a double meaning. Now let’s talk about the important issue. Professor, how do you assess the current situation? Some say the SS Algorithm will become a digital master key capable of opening every door. Is that really the case?”
Jiyun looked thoughtful for a moment.
“A master key... If we limit ourselves to RSA-based encryption, that analogy may be true. But please don’t worry too much. Even so, it doesn’t mean every digital system in reality will be hacked immediately.”
The anchor looked puzzled.
“Why is that?”
“Because banks and government agencies don’t rely on RSA alone. All critical facilities employ multilayered defense structures. Key management systems, hardware security modules, physical security—and above all, the most important keys are not connected to any network.”
The anchor’s expression softened a little.
“Then hacking them would be impossible.”
“That’s right. An attacker can’t seize nuclear missiles or break into a bank vault like in the movies.”
“Then is the collapse of social systems that some media outlets are talking about an exaggeration?”
“Immediate collapse is an exaggeration. However...”
When Jiyun seemed to hesitate, the anchor urged her on.
“Please, go on.”
“If this situation continues long term, then they will collapse. Almost all communication, payment, and authentication taking place on the internet right now relies on RSA public-key methods. Even if bank servers can’t be breached, user authentication can be intercepted. The result is exactly what is happening at American Bank in the United States right now.”
Footage appeared of people lined up in front of the bank even before opening hours.
“Ah! That’s where the bank run occurred. In short, you’re saying social trust may collapse.”
“Precisely.”
The air in the studio grew heavy. The anchor asked with urgency in his face.
“Then what are the countermeasures? Surely there must be some?”
Jiyun shook her head.
“At this very moment, it’s difficult. If I had to say, then all RSA- and ECC-based encryption must be discarded. Instead, systems must transition to symmetric-key-based methods or use physically isolated networks.”
“Is that realistically possible?”
“That is why I said it would be difficult. All infrastructure across the world has already been built on top of this structure. It’s similar to being asked to overhaul the entire power grid without cutting off the electricity.”
The anchor’s voice trembled.
“Then are you saying destruction is ultimately unavoidable?”
Jiyun firmly denied it.
“No. NIST will decide on the standard for next-generation quantum-resistant encryption as soon as next month. After that, implementation will depend on each nation’s capabilities. Of course, I’m saying this under the assumption that the next-generation encryption is successful.”
The anchor looked doubtful.
“It might not be successful?”
“Because we don’t know where a vulnerability might be. In cryptography, a single gap renders the whole thing useless. The problem is that we don’t currently have enough time to test it.”
“Ah... We invited an expert, but I feel as though we’ve only increased the anxiety. My heart feels heavy.”
Jiyun looked at the camera and smiled lightly.
“Then shall we talk about something hopeful this time?”
“Is there such a thing even in the current situation?”
“CRYSTALS-Kyber, which is currently receiving the most attention as next-generation PQC, is a fairly well-verified cryptosystem. It’s what we call lattice-based cryptography, and it’s a method NIST has already reviewed for years. From what I’ve heard from insiders, it has held up well against attacks by the SS Algorithm so far. However, its limitation is that it has never undergone wide-scale testing.”
“I feel a little better.”
“One more thing! The other S in the SS Algorithm, Yu Seoha, is developing an encryption system. It’s called Utopia, and it is considered certain to participate in next month’s standardization review. Which means it must already be in the final stages.”
Perhaps it was the first time he had heard this, because the anchor’s eyes widened.
“Ah! Yu Seoha is! Considering his incredible track record, I can’t help but look forward to it. Do you know anything about it?”
“Mm...”
Jiyun placed a hand on her chin and fell into thought.
The anchor looked puzzled.
“What is it?”
“To a mathematician, Yu Seoha is an extremely mysterious existence. From a very young age, he has done things the mathematical community considered impossible.”
Fear and awe mingled in her eyes.
The anchor laughed lightly and said,
“Even to an ordinary person, he seems plenty remarkable.”
Jiyun shook her head.
“No. I can say with certainty that even if you multiplied what you’re imagining now by a hundred, it still wouldn’t be enough. In every field he has touched, he has produced achievements that were unimaginable in the past. Perhaps that is why I find myself expecting something from him despite myself.”
The anchor leaned forward and asked,
“What kind of expectation?”
Jiyun swallowed.
“Perfect secrecy. Safety that can be proven mathematically. It is a concept defined in 1949 by Claude Shannon, the father of information theory. You could call it the dream and ideal of every cryptographer. I have spent my life in cryptography, but I have never seen even a fragment of it.”
“That sounds difficult. Could you explain a bit more?”
“Real-world encryption is not actually all that mathematically beautiful. The development of cryptography is also a history of compromise. But the Seoha I know—ah! Director Yu—is not the type to tolerate such things.
“So although I know it sounds absurd, I can’t help but hope that perhaps he might create an encryption system that is both mathematically perfect and usable in engineering.”
“What does it mean to be mathematically perfect?”
“It means a system that can never be hacked.”
The anchor looked shocked.
“You give us despair and hope at the same time. I sincerely hope things turn out as you expect, Professor. Thank you for joining us today.”
“Thank you.”
The studio lights went out. The staff began busily putting away the equipment.
After thanking the employee who removed her microphone, Jiyun slowly rose from her seat.
Click, clack.
As she walked down the corridor, she took out her phone.
—Professor, this is Hyeongju. I can’t tell you the details because it’s confidential, but Utopia is truly absurd. Please look forward to it.
“Our Mr. Park really is lucky.”
In truth, she had wanted to support them directly. She hadn’t put it into action because Seoha might feel uncomfortable.
Jiyun gave a faint smile.
* * *
“Are you all right?”
Jihye’s expression was full of worry.
Seoha had already gone several days without sleep. The framework of the algorithm was complete, but tiny errors kept appearing in the process of applying the researchers’ ideas. In the world of cryptography, a 99.9 percent success rate was no different from 0 percent.
They desperately needed someone to stop him, but every member of Team Apex looked completely out of their minds from crunch.
Seoha stopped his hand for a moment and looked out the window.
The world still could not escape the fear called the SS Algorithm. The news spoke day after day of social chaos caused by hacking, and people were trembling, not knowing when their daily lives might collapse. And half of that fear originated from his own name—“Seoha.”
“I think I probably had a vague sense that something like this might happen. But I dealt with it far too complacently. I’m glad I have a chance to set it right, even now.”
Seoha murmured softly as he looked at Jihye.
The waves of primes he had discovered while proving the Riemann hypothesis. To him, they had been born of pure passion for the truth, but to someone else, they had become a hammer that could shatter the world. As the one who had provided the theoretical foundation for that technology, the sense of debt Seoha felt was by no means light.
‘I have to solve this quickly...’
Seoha’s eyes gleamed.
Countless thoughts shattered and recombined inside his head. Not a single idea proposed by the researchers could be dismissed lightly. The problem was how to melt them into the theory. Add one thing, and another fell out of alignment. Fix that, and a gap appeared somewhere else.
‘If only I had enough time.’
His heart was impatient.
Perhaps because he had not rested for days, his mind was not working properly. Even so, Seoha still stood before the whiteboard, clinging to the equations.
Before long, the sun had set and night had fallen. The researchers looked at Seoha with worried eyes. A young man whose face still held traces of boyishness was moving from board to board, organizing equations.
At first, they had admired him. Then they had felt awe. They had also felt pride that the functions they had proposed were being reflected in the design. But how many days had this already been going on?
Tap.
Jihye carefully set down a sandwich and milk beside him.
“Director, please eat a little first...”
Seoha did not answer.
As if he could hear nothing, he held up a marker and began writing a new equation on the board.
“Director!”
“If I twist the dimension once more here... No, then there’ll be a bottleneck in computational processing speed. I’ll split the phase again from the beginning, then...”
She looked around.
Everyone had the same expression as her, but no one dared step forward. She looked for Theo, but he was currently out meeting with officials from NIST.
Jihye bit down hard on her lower lip as if she had made up her mind.
Bang!
She slammed her palm down hard on the desk. The sound was louder than expected, enough to make the surrounding researchers jump in shock.
Seoha looked at her with questioning eyes.
“Hey! Yu Seoha!”
“Yes?”
At the force in her voice, Seoha flinched.
“Do you have that little faith in us?”
Seoha blinked.
Had she blurted it out on impulse? Jihye’s face was plainly flustered as well. But once her mouth had opened, it did not stop.
“If that weren’t the case, there’s no way you’d be shouldering everything alone like this! Are we really that incompetent?”
“No, I just…”
The laboratory fell silent.
Tears welled in Jihye’s eyes. Perhaps out of embarrassment, her face had gone red from the neck up. Bravely, she thrust the tray she had brought toward Seoha.
“Here, this!”
Seoha slowly set down the marker and picked up a sandwich.
Munch, munch.
When she handed him the milk, Seoha accepted it like an obedient younger brother and gulped it down.
“Good boy.”
A bright smile bloomed on Jihye’s face.
“Now go home and get some sleep. Leave the rest to us. We’re all fairly capable people in our own right, you know?”
“Th-that’s…”
Seoha looked troubled.
Then he sighed and looked around. As it happened, there was a comfortable-looking sofa in the corner.
“I’ll sleep here for a bit.”
Perhaps he was exhausted, because the moment Seoha lay down, he fell asleep with steady breathing.
Hyeongju brought over a blanket and covered him with it.
Soft, even breaths.
Peaceful breathing sounded through the silent laboratory. Jihye quietly looked down at Seoha as he slept. Deceived by his overwhelming genius, she had failed to see him properly as a person.
“He’s only at the age where he would have just entered university.”
What had they been doing at that age? The researchers each sank into their own thoughts.
At barely twenty years old, he had far too many burdens on his shoulders. They had only been standing behind him, expecting him to create miracles.
“This is… I suppose I was relying on him without even realizing it. I must have thought Director Yu could accomplish anything.”
This was their first time experiencing something like this, too.
An incomprehensibly exceptional person had taken the lead and carved a path through the rough road for them, and before they knew it, they had grown used to safely following the footprints he left behind.
“Me too. There must have been something we could have done to help.”
“To be honest, I was overwhelmed. It’s true I was intimidated before I even tried.”
Confessions like a round of repentance broke out here and there.
“We were far too incompetent.”
Hyeongju clenched his fist tightly and lamented.
Jihye roughly wiped the corners of her eyes with her sleeve, then lifted her head with a resolute expression. Her gaze turned to the formulas Seoha had densely written out.
“Reflection can come later. Right now, even that time is too precious. Let’s finish this before the director wakes up.”
He had already created more than enough miracles. Wouldn’t it be far too shameless, as human beings, to expect even more from him?
Nod.
A flame slowly began to kindle in the researchers’ eyes.
Without anyone taking the lead, they all gathered in front of the board. Afraid that Seoha might wake, they even stifled the sound of chairs being pulled back and suppressed their coughs.
‘We have to do this.’
Jihye thought.
She hoped that they, as adults, could share the weight of the world that their young director had been bearing all alone.