Golden Spoon Investment Portfolio - Chapter 171

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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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171. I really wish I could afford that right now.

Nissan Motor Headquarters, Yokohama, Japan.
As Yamamoto Daito, the Finance Director, returned to his office after concluding the executive meeting, Moriyama rose from the sofa where he had been waiting.

“I have an urgent matter to report.”

Yamamoto, having removed his jacket and hung it on the coat rack, glanced at Moriyama, whose expression had grown tense, and spoke.

“Have a seat first.”

Then, settling into the central seat of honor, he asked leisurely.

“What will you have to drink?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”

He seemed eager to get straight to the point rather than engage in pleasantries.
Yamamoto leaned back in his chair and posed a light question.

“Why do you look so grave?”

Moriyama then placed the folder he had brought before Yamamoto and spoke.

“This morning, the dollar-to-yen exchange rate reached 89.35 yen in the market.”
“….”
“Considering that last month’s peak was 85.50 yen, the yen has strengthened by as much as 3.85 yen in just one month.”

As Yamamoto opened the folder, it revealed a detailed graph of the dollar-to-yen exchange rate fluctuations over the past several months.

“If we use last April as the baseline, when it surged to the late 70s, the decline becomes even more pronounced.”

Yamamoto looked up, closed the folder, and set it down, speaking with apparent indifference.

“Back then, those hedge fund bastards were playing games that distorted the exchange rate. Now that the US-Japan auto agreement has been finalized and both domestic and international conditions are improving, it’s only natural that the yen is weakening.”
“Of course, sir, but the problem is that this month’s exchange rate decline has been quite steep.”
“It’s just the pent-up pressure from before reasserting itself. We must have drafted our financial plans anticipating the yen could fall to 90 by year-end.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then what’s the problem? If anything, a weaker yen strengthens our export competitiveness and we gain from favorable exchange rate movements. It’s a benefit for the company, isn’t it?”

Moriyama leaned forward in his seat, speaking despite the dismissive tone.

“You’re right, sir, but there is one thing that concerns me.”
“What is it?”
“The options contract we entered into with Eldorado Fund.”
“….”
“If the exchange rate continues to fall at this pace, we’ll soon exceed the agreed-upon rate of 90 yen.”

Yamamoto Daito crossed his arms and mentally reviewed the options contract terms, then smacked his lips.

“It’s somewhat unfortunate, but since the options were put in place for currency hedging, we have to accept that level of loss.”

Moriyama spoke again, his voice notably more serious.

“What concerns me is that if the exchange rate breaches the upper limit, the knockout option will be triggered.”
“What did you say?”

Moriyama continued, meeting the furrowed gaze of Yamamoto Daito.

“If that happens, we’ll have to sell four times the contract amount to Eldorado Fund at the agreed-upon rate.”

Yet Yamamoto Daito remained composed.

“If I recall correctly, the upper limit of the options contract with Eldorado Fund was 100 yen.”
“That’s correct.”
“Then there’s no need to worry too much. We’re at 89 yen now, and no matter how much the yen weakens, unless some unforeseen variable emerges like last time, it will be difficult to exceed 100 yen before year-end.”
“That may be true, but….”

Yamamoto Daito cut off Moriyama, who still couldn’t hide his concerns.

“The knockout option needs to move over 10 yen more to trigger, yet you’re already worrying about it. You seem to have less nerve than I thought.”
“….”
“I guarantee you, there’s no way we’ll exceed 100 yen before year-end, so put your mind at ease.”

Then he continued, speaking lightly as if tossing the words away.

“The options contract with Eldorado Fund will expire after one year anyway, and I have no intention of renewing it. There’s no need to worry about it.”

Though Yamamoto Daito stated flatly that there was no problem whatsoever, Moriyama could not shake his unease.
However, if he continued to raise concerns, he risked displeasing the director, so he closed his mouth while harboring his worries internally.

“If there’s nothing more to discuss, you may leave.”
“…Yes.”

Moriyama reluctantly replied, gathered his documents, and left the office.
As the door closed, Yamamoto Daito, now alone, clicked his tongue with a look of disdain.

“Tsk. With such a timid nature, how could he ever accomplish anything significant.”

A department head trembling with fear over something with low probability of occurrence hardly inspired confidence.
Then, recalling the exchange rate that had clearly peaked and continued its downward trend, Yamamoto Daito furrowed his brow with an indefinable sense of unease.

“Surely it won’t exceed 100 yen this year.”

* * *

Late in the afternoon, a BMW sedan exited the interchange and drove along the national highway toward Icheon.
Large warehouse buildings stood sparsely among expansive rice paddies, creating a desolate atmosphere.
The BMW sedan, having traveled along the paved asphalt road for some time, gradually slowed and turned onto a side road to the right.
Shortly after, a large warehouse building surrounded by tall fencing came into view.
As the BMW sedan pulled up in front of the main gate, a man who appeared to be in his forties emerged from the container serving as the security office.
The Security Guard, confirming the vehicle, quickly unlocked the gate and opened the entrance inward.
The BMW sedan, crunching over gravel, came to a stop in an open area to one side.
As Seok-won, wearing Ray-Ban sunglasses, opened the driver’s door and stepped out, the Security Guard who approached bowed respectfully.

“Welcome, sir.”

Seok-won removed his sunglasses and tucked them into his chest pocket while surveying the surroundings.

“Everything’s been fine?”
“Of course. Oh, and this morning a new shipment arrived by container.”
“We haven’t run out of space.”
“That’s right. But at this point, most of the shelves are completely full, so it’ll be difficult to fit anything else.”
“We’re planning to build a new Warehouse Building on that empty lot over there anyway, so it should be fine.”
“Yes.”

Seok-won pulled out his wallet from his inner jacket pocket and extracted a check for 100,000 won, offering it forward.

“For your hard work—buy yourself some cigarettes.”
“My goodness. I’m truly grateful every time you visit.”

The Security Guard accepted the check with a beaming face, pocketing it gratefully.

“Since these goods are vulnerable to fire, always be careful about flames and contact me immediately if anything happens.”
“Of course. I’ll keep my eyes wide open and watch over everything, so don’t worry.”
“Then I’ll take a quick look around and be on my way. Keep up your duties.”
“Yes. The keys are right here.”

As though this were routine, the Security Guard extracted a bundle of warehouse keys from his jacket pocket with practiced ease and respectfully handed them over with both hands.
Taking the key bundle, Seok-won turned away from the Security Guard and made his way toward the Warehouse Building.
The Warehouse Building, constructed of reinforced concrete, rose two stories high with an area of approximately 400 pyeong—quite substantial in scale.
Unlocking the entrance door attached to one side of the large sliding door and stepping inside, I found the interior shrouded in complete darkness, devoid of any sunlight.
I felt along the left wall and flipped the power switch upward.
The ceiling lights flickered on in sequence, flooding the interior with brilliant illumination.
The warehouse interior revealed by the light resembled meticulously arranged storage compartments.
Six-tier shelving stretched densely from floor to ceiling, each section packed with bundles wrapped in hanji paper, and as I drew closer, the subtle, distinctive grassy aroma of dried leaves reached my nostrils.
These were the so-called aged Pu-erh teas—premium varieties fermented for decades or more.
Among thousands upon thousands of Pu-erh bundles, the rarest and most ancient varieties—the hao-grade teas such as Fuyuanchang, Songbinghu, Dongxinghu, and Dongyeong—were stacked in hundreds of bundles each, treasures that would make any tea connoisseur’s eyes light up.

“Seeing them all gathered like this is quite a sight.”

These were collections painstakingly gathered from teahouses across China, as well as Hong Kong and Macau.
Considerable manpower and capital had been expended searching out aged Pu-erh teas stored in every corner, verifying their authenticity, and purchasing them at premium prices.
But considering the astronomical value they would command in the future, such expenditure was trivial.
I unwrapped one of the Pu-erh bundles resting on a nearby shelf and extracted the round, disc-shaped cake from within.
It was a red-seal Pu-erh tea with large Chinese characters and inscriptions stamped in crimson.
The storage condition was excellent; the paper wrapping was so pristine it was difficult to believe the piece was well over forty years old.

“In just a few years, a single cake of this will fetch over 100 million won.”

A single cake weighing around 320 grams commanding prices exceeding 100 million won—it was fair to say it had become more expensive than gold itself.
Considering I’d purchased the aged Hong Yin pu-erh I held in my hand for a million won per cake by paying a premium, this represented a profit margin of a thousand times over.

“This is basically cryptocurrency in physical form.”

While it was true that aged antique pu-erh possessed superior aroma and flavor, it hardly justified valuations in the hundred-million-won range.

“It’s nothing but a bubble created by warped vanity and pretension.”

As China’s economy developed at breakneck speed, countless wealthy individuals had amassed enormous fortunes.
With newfound wealth came the natural desire to flaunt it, and what caught the eyes of these tycoons were European luxury brands and aged pu-erh tea.

“Chinese billionaires have purchased so many luxury goods that there’s a saying they single-handedly sustain European luxury companies.”

Particularly in China, where water quality was poor and tea drinking had been a tradition since ancient times, aged pu-erh became the perfect vehicle for displaying wealth and status.
As Chinese magnates competed for aged pu-erh, prices skyrocketed astronomically, eventually reaching valuations of 100 million won per cake—a bubble inflated to absurd proportions.
The total value of all the aged pu-erh filling the shelves of this warehouse easily exceeded several hundred billion won.
I would have preferred to stockpile even more pu-erh, but sourcing premium grades had become increasingly difficult, and monopolizing such vast quantities alone seemed inadvisable, so I decided to conclude my pu-erh collection here.
Instead, I planned to fill the newly constructed warehouse next door with Kweichow Moutai, known as China’s national liquor.
Like aged pu-erh, Kweichow Moutai was another item whose prices were surging dramatically due to Chinese tycoons’ vanity and its use as a bribery tool.
If my memory served correctly, a single bottle of 1953 Kweichow Moutai had sold at auction for 1.5 million yuan in Chinese currency—over 250 million won in Korean won.

“The real goldmine would be Kweichow Moutai stock, but it’s frustrating that I can’t acquire it yet.”

The representative liquor company producing Kweichow Moutai was Kweichow Moutai Co., Ltd., shortened to Kweichow Moutai.

“A liquor company, not an IT firm, holding the top market capitalization—only in China could something like this happen.”

Kweichow Moutai, the emperor of spirits, boasted a market capitalization of 2.3616 trillion yuan, equivalent to approximately 426 trillion won.
It was more valuable than Coca-Cola, the American beverage giant, and comparable in market value to Sasung Electronics, Korea’s flagship company—a testament to Kweichow Moutai’s extraordinary stature.
Seok-won smacked his lips and muttered wistfully.

“If I could just acquire shares, I could see massive returns, but since the company hasn’t even been established yet, let alone listed on the stock exchange, there’s no helping it.”

Instead, I resolved to find a way to secure equity stakes before the stock market listing, when valuations were still at their lowest, and surveyed the warehouse brimming with aged pu-erh with a satisfied expression.

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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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