Golden Spoon Investment Portfolio - Chapter 141

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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141. Not a Fatal Wound, but It Still Hurts Like Hell.

The next day, Hannam-dong, Seoul.
With the sun high in the sky, Park Tae-hong, dressed in comfortable indoor wear, opened the door to the master bedroom and stepped into the spacious living room.

“You’re finally awake. How’s your body feeling?”

Jo Deok-rye, who had been sitting on the sofa reading a book in the bright sunlight streaming through the large glass windows, noticed her husband emerging and asked with a worried gaze.

“Yeah. I slept soundly all morning, so I feel much better now.”

Park Tae-hong settled into the middle of the sofa with a slight groan.

“Why did you drink so much when you can’t even hold your liquor?”
“It just happened that way.”
“You’re getting older now—drink in moderation.”
“I’m not even seventy yet. What’s wrong with my age? I’m healthier than most young men.”

At that, Jo Deok-rye shot him a sidelong glance and replied pointedly.

“That healthy person couldn’t even go to work because of a hangover and groaned all morning?”
“Ahem.”

Park Tae-hong, caught in his own contradiction, quickly averted his gaze and feigned innocence.

“Goodness. I can’t live with this.”

Jo Deok-rye shook her head and closed the book she’d been reading, setting it down on the table.

“Gunsan Housekeeper!”
“Yes, ma’am.”

The Gunsan Housekeeper then poked her head out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Make some honey water for the chairman to settle his stomach.”
“Yes, ma’am.”

As Gunsan Housekeeper returned to the kitchen, Park Tae-hong quietly shifted closer and spoke.

“As expected, the only thing on my mind is my wife.”
“That’s enough—you should cut back on the drinking.”

Just as the two of them were displaying their affectionate harmony, the front door suddenly opened with a click.

“Ah, Madam.”

Kim Hyung-gi, who drove Park Tae-hong’s car, entered in his business suit and approached them.

“People from the Walkerhill Museum of Art have come looking for you.”
“Pardon?”

Seeing Jo Deok-rye tilt her head in confusion, Park Tae-hong asked.

“Isn’t that the museum operated by ST Group?”
“That’s right. The owner’s wife inherited it from her late mother-in-law two years ago and has been running it since last year.”

Jo Deok-rye turned her head toward Kim Hyung-gi standing before her.

“Tell them to come in for now.”
“Understood.”

While Kim Hyung-gi stepped outside briefly, Gunsan Housekeeper emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray.

“Chairman, here’s some honey water for you.”
“Thank you.”

Park Tae-hong accepted the bowl and immediately drank the honey water. His parched throat welcomed the cool, sweet liquid, and he swallowed it down eagerly.
He drank it all in one go, savoring the refreshing sweetness.

“Ahh.”
“Drink slowly. You know how it is when you get older—even plain water can upset your stomach.”
“I know.”

Park Tae-hong set the half-empty bowl down on the table and asked with curiosity.

“Did you purchase a new painting?”
“No.”
“Then why did the museum send someone here?”
“I have no idea.”

Jo Deok-rye replied with a bewildered expression.
Just then, the entrance grew somewhat noisy, and a group of people entered the living room following Kim Hyung-gi.
Among them, a woman in her early thirties wearing a two-piece suit bowed respectfully to Chairman Park Tae-hong and his wife, greeting them first.
She was Do Hyang-mi, an aide and secretary to Noh Sun-hwa, the director of Walkerhill Museum of Art.

“Good day, Chairman. Madam.”
“Oh my, Director Do came in person.”

Jo Deok-rye, recognizing her from their previous acquaintance, broke into a warm smile.

“Yes. It’s been a while since we last met.”
“Indeed. But what brings you to our home?”

Jo Deok-rye’s gaze shifted past Do Hyang-mi as she posed the question.
Four neatly dressed museum staff members stood on either side, each holding a carefully wrapped framed painting.

“The exhibition of the paintings you purchased has concluded, so we’ve brought them to you.”
“But I never purchased any paintings.”

Jo Deok-rye blinked, her confusion evident.

“Ah, your second son purchased them.”
“Seok-won? Why would he suddenly buy paintings… Oh.”

Jo Deok-rye recalled that she had deliberately sent Seok-won to the exhibition not long ago to arrange a meeting with the eldest daughter of Hojin Group, and she nodded belatedly.

“In any case, thank you for your trouble.”

Do Hyang-mi then opened a document folder and extended it forward along with a pen.

“Please sign the receipt.”
“Of course.”

As Jo Deok-rye signed beneath the document, Do Hyang-mi bowed and offered her thanks.

“Where should we hang the paintings?”
“Just set them up in the living room for now. We’ll move them ourselves later.”
“Understood.”

Do Hyang-mi responded politely, then turned her head and gestured to the employees who had come with her.
The employees carefully set down the framed paintings they had been holding and arranged them neatly against the wall.

“Then we’ll be on our way.”
“Thank you for coming all this way.”

Do Hyang-mi bowed respectfully and then left with her group.

“Seok-won bought paintings?”
“Remember last time you sent him to the exhibition instead to meet the eldest daughter of Hojin Group? He probably purchased them then.”
“He flatly refused to meet that woman, yet he has no problem spending money on paintings.”
“What can we do if he doesn’t like her?”

Jo Deok-rye gestured to her husband to stay quiet, then picked up the receiver and dialed her second son’s mobile number.
The dial tone sounded, and before long, Seok-won answered the call.

[Yes, this is Park Seok-won.]
“It’s me. You’re not busy, are you?”
[Not at all. Is something the matter?]
“What do you mean? Your mother calls her son and there has to be something wrong?”

Seok-won laughed at her hurt tone and replied.

[Ha ha ha. That’s not it at all.]
“The Walkerhill Museum of Art sent two paintings they said you purchased.”
[Oh, I forgot to mention that to you beforehand.]
“You really did buy them?”
[Yes. I found some pieces I liked at the exhibition last time and purchased them.]
“I see. So where should we put them?”
[Just hang both of them in my room. I’ve already cleared some wall space for them.]
“Got it. You must be busy, so let’s end the call here.”
[Okay.]

As Jo Deok-rye hung up the receiver, Park Tae-hong immediately asked from beside her.

“What did you say?”
“It’s confirmed that Seok-won purchased it.”

Park Tae-hong then glanced at Kim Hyung-gi standing to the side and spoke.

“Let’s see what he bought. Unwrap it carefully.”
“Yes, Chairman.”

Kim Hyung-gi carefully peeled away the tightly wrapped packaging, taking care not to damage the artwork.
One depicted a Coca-Cola bottle rendered in black and white, while the other portrayed a blonde Marilyn Monroe with colors that appeared to bleed and blur across the canvas.

“This isn’t some children’s prank—what kind of painting is this?”

Park Tae-hong furrowed his brow and complained without hesitation.
However, unlike Park Tae-hong, who had no interest in art, Jo Deok-rye—who regularly enjoyed exhibitions and classical music—recognized the work at once and widened her eyes in surprise.

“Really, you of all people. It’s clearly an Andy Warhol piece.”
“Who’s that?”
“You don’t know Andy Warhol? He’s the most famous pop artist representing twentieth-century American art.”
“Pop artist or whatever—to my eyes, this just looks like children’s scribbling.”

Park Tae-hong let out a dismissive laugh.

“The colors are juvenile, and I honestly can’t fathom why anyone would hold an exhibition to display something like this.”

Jo Deok-rye started to explain just how remarkable Andy Warhol was as an artist, but she realized it would only exhaust her, so she simply held her tongue.

“So how much does something like this go for? A few hundred?”
“A few hundred? If it’s authentic, it easily exceeds several million dollars.”
“What? Just a Coca-Cola bottle scribbled on canvas, and it costs that much!”

Park Tae-hong exclaimed in disbelief.

“Andy Warhol’s work transcends the distinction between high and low culture, reflecting and transforming the contemporary perspective and values of the masses… No, never mind.”

Seeing Park Tae-hong’s openly bored expression, it was like casting pearls before swine.

“In any case, some artist named Andy or whatever created it, and it’s an expensive painting worth several million dollars.”
“Yes.”

I was aware that the Coca-Cola bottle painting was worth several million dollars, and the Shot Sage Blue Marilyn beside it was worth no less than tens of millions—but I saw no reason to bring it up.
It was only when Jo Deok-rye realized that combining the two pieces approached nearly two billion won that she turned to her husband in astonishment.

“Surely these aren’t originals?”
“These days, even museums sell fakes.”
“…That can’t be right.”

Even Jo Deok-rye had to admit it sounded absurd.
Besides, the fact that Do Hyang-mi, a senior manager and confidant of Director No, had brought them personally made it clear they were genuine.

“But where on earth did the second son get the money to buy two paintings like these?”
“That boy’s never been short on money. You should see how much he’s already taken from me!”

Park Tae-hong grumbled with a petulant expression.

“With that kind of money, he could buy four or five more paintings like these. Tsk, it pains me just thinking about it.”
“What are you talking about?”

Jo Deok-rye, unaware that Park Tae-hong had entrusted a substantial sum to his second son for separate management, tilted her head in confusion.

“Never mind. You don’t need to know.”

At his evasive tone, Jo Deok-rye’s eyes narrowed.
She suspected the wealthy man was up to something behind her back, but decided to let it slide for now.
Still, if these were genuine, they were incredibly valuable pieces—she worried whether it was even appropriate to simply hang them in the second son’s room.

* * *

After ending the call with his mother, Seok-won set down his phone and glanced at Kim Jung-sik, who sat on the sofa to his left.

“My apologies.”
“Not at all, Department Head.”

Leaning back against the sofa cushion, I asked him a question.

“Where did we leave off?”
“I informed you that we’ve completed all the yen short-betting option contracts.”
“Ah, yes. That’s right.”

I nodded slightly and gestured to Kim Jung-sik to continue.

“We purchased options worth a total of 25.2 million dollars at an average acquisition price of 80 yen, using a 3x leverage.”
“It’s unfortunate we couldn’t use more leverage, but since management insisted we not exceed 3x, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

I smacked my lips with genuine regret.
However, unlike my sentiment, Kim Jung-sik was inwardly horrified—the betting amount had grown tremendously with the addition of our profits to the principal, and he was already drowning in worry.
Even now, the slightest fluctuation in the yen exchange rate meant losing hundreds of thousands of dollars. If we increased the bet further, he’d likely never have a moment’s peace, would be consumed by anxiety, and his lifespan would probably shorten by years.

“How has the exchange rate been moving today?”

Kim Jung-sik answered with a worried expression.

“The Bank of Japan’s sudden rate cut and the government’s stabilization measures seem to be having an effect. The rate has recovered to 80 yen and is moving sideways.”
“They’re rolling out countermeasures, but once the yen gains strong momentum and starts climbing, it won’t come down easily.”

Kim Jung-sik grumbled inwardly.

‘If you knew that, why did you make such a risky reverse short bet?’

Of course, he didn’t voice it aloud, but from my expression alone, I could roughly guess what he was thinking.

“But if yen appreciation continues, the burden will be significant, so there will be a major shift soon.”
“I certainly hope so.”

I wanted to tell him that the Plaza Accord would come soon, but that wasn’t something I could do.
I ignored Kim Jung-sik’s anxious expression and instead pulled out several thin envelopes from my inner pocket, placing them on the table.

“Take these.”
“What is this?”
“A bonus.”
“Pardon? I don’t understand what you mean all of a sudden.”

Kim Jung-sik’s eyes widened as he stared at me.

“The performance bonus from the company will come out after this quarter ends. This is something I’m giving separately, so take it and distribute it among your team members.”
“Thank you so much, Director!”

Kim Jung-sik accepted the envelope without hesitation.
Having received an unexpected bonus, his expression brightened considerably compared to before.
Seok-won smiled faintly and spoke while leaning back against the sofa.

“If there’s nothing else to discuss, you can go ahead and leave.”
“Yes.”

Kim Jung-sik carefully secured the envelope containing the bonus and rose from his seat.
After closing the door behind him, Seok-won also stood up from the sofa and moved to his desk.
He then moved the mouse and pulled up the Boseong Communications stock chart on the installed monitor.

[Boseong Communications 26,300 ▲ 1,860]

After completing the shakeout, Boseong Communications stock had begun climbing again, already surpassing 20,000 won and approaching 30,000 won.

“They must be brimming with anticipation of a windfall right now, but I can’t let it happen that way.”

Seok-won gazed at the stock chart with a grin, then immediately picked up the telephone receiver on the corner of his desk.

[Yes. This is Choi Ho-geun from Investment Team 4.]
“It’s me.”
[Ah. Yes. Director.]
“Liquidate all the stocks we’ve been buying right now, all at once.”
[Understood.]

Since Seok-won had given prior instructions, Choi Ho-geun responded without hesitation.
After setting down the receiver, Seok-won sank into his chair and gazed at the stock chart with eyes full of anticipation.

“It won’t be fatal, but it’s still going to hurt quite a bit.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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