Golden Spoon Investment Portfolio - Chapter 176

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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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176. I’d like to hear what you were thinking when you acquired Gucci.

A few days later, Florence, Italy.
At a corner café with outdoor seating in Piazza della Repubblica—famous for the carousel featured in the film “Between Passion and Coldness”—sat a tall, striking East Asian man wearing sunglasses.
It was Seok-won, who had completed his business in the United States and flown to Italy on his private jet to meet Jacob Thompson.
Dressed in a linen jacket over a crisp white shirt, Seok-won cut an impressive figure that rivaled even the impeccably dressed Italian men renowned throughout Europe for their sartorial elegance.
Despite the sunglasses obscuring half his face, his striking features and commanding height drew the attention of women seated at nearby tables, who stole furtive glances in his direction.

“Your cappuccino, sir.”

A neatly dressed Male Server arrived with a steaming cappuccino on a tray and set it before Seok-won.
He then quietly delivered a coffee to Bockus, the Bodyguard seated alone at the adjacent table.
As Seok-won lifted the cup to inhale its aroma, the rich, nutty fragrance of coffee beans mingled with milk enveloped him.
After taking a sip of the cappuccino, Seok-won gave a subtle nod of appreciation at its deep, complex flavor.

“Indeed, a café with over two centuries of tradition tastes distinctly different.”

Having operated on this square since 1733, it was easy to understand why Florence—with its entire city designated as a UNESCO World Heritage site—deserved such distinction.
Everywhere one looked, the charming historic buildings, the carousel, and even the street musician playing violin in one corner of the square seemed lifted directly from a film scene.
While the sprawling metropolises like New York with their towering skyscrapers held their own appeal, Seok-won found himself drawn more to this atmosphere—one that breathed leisure and romance, where one could rest at ease without hurry.
Experiencing Florence’s unique charm, distinct from Paris, Seok-won finally allowed himself to relax and savored the moment as if he were simply a tourist enjoying the sights.
As he leisurely sipped his cappuccino, watching children ride the carousel and observing the flow of people across the square, something caught his attention.

“That’s….”

Seok-won’s brow furrowed sharply beneath his sunglasses.
He spotted two distinctly suspicious-looking men sauntering toward a Blonde Woman who stood alone with a camera, photographing the surroundings of the square like a tourist.
The first man caught her attention by pretending to ask for directions, showing her a tourist map to distract her gaze.
Meanwhile, the second man slipped behind her and attempted to slash open her backpack with a razor blade concealed between his fingers to steal her wallet.
Upon witnessing this, Seok-won immediately rose from his seat and approached the woman with swift strides.

“Have you been waiting long?”

The woman, who had been gesturing while giving directions in English toward the Duomo Cathedral located just a few hundred meters from Piazza della Repubblica, suddenly turned to him with a bewildered expression.
But Seok-won smoothly draped an arm around her shoulders and drew her naturally into his embrace as he spoke.

“I’ve already secured us a table over there. Let’s go.”
“What? No, wait—”

The woman tried to protest, but I pulled her along with firm resolve before she could finish.
Just as the pickpockets were reaching for their wallets, they were interrupted and scowled in frustration—but the moment Bockus appeared behind them with an intimidating glare, they lost their nerve entirely and vanished into the crowd.

“Wait! I think you’ve got the wrong person!”

The woman, finally coming to her senses, wrenched her shoulder free from my grip.

“What on earth is this about?”

I stopped walking and confirmed the pickpockets had disappeared.
Then I removed my sunglasses, held them in my hand, and gestured as I spoke.

“Check your bag.”
“My bag? Why would I—did I get pickpocketed or something? Wait…”

As the woman unzipped her backpack to inspect it, she discovered a long gash sliced cleanly along the side with a razor blade and her eyes widened.

“How did this happen?”
“Those men who asked for directions a moment ago did it.”

The woman looked at me with shock in her expression.

“It’s a common technique—one distracts you from the front while another slices your bag open with a blade to steal your passport and wallet. Europe is crawling with pickpockets targeting tourists, so you always need to stay vigilant.”
“Oh!”

Only then did the woman realize I had helped her, and her expression turned apologetic.

“I’m so sorry—I had no idea.”

Now that I could see her properly from the front, she was a strikingly beautiful woman with a model-like slender frame.
Her small face was perfectly proportioned with delicate features, and her eyes were particularly striking—a brilliant sapphire blue like precious gems set into her face.
But I paid no particular attention to her appearance, asking in an indifferent tone.

“Are all your belongings still there?”

The woman hurriedly opened her bag to check, and upon confirming her wallet and passport were intact, she exhaled with relief.

“Yes, you’re doing well.”
“That’s good then.”

Just as I turned to leave, adjusting my sunglasses back on, the woman hastily opened her mouth.

“Wait!”

I stopped and turned around to look at her.

“What is it?”
“Well… you helped me avoid what could have been a terrible situation. Please, let me treat you to a meal.”
“That’s not necessary.”

I declined the offer without the slightest hesitation.
As I walked away, Bockus, his muscular frame moving like a shadow behind me, followed me out of the plaza.
Left alone, the woman watched me disappear into the crowd with a bewildered expression, then her brow furrowed deeply.

“What? I offered to repay him, and he just left like that.”

Moreover, the way he turned around without a moment’s hesitation was coldly indifferent.
She had rarely been treated this way by a man in her life, and her face flushed with embarrassment.

“Ugh. Really!”

Glancing back, Bockus let out a soft cough and spoke to me as I walked ahead.

“Boss, she’s quite a beauty. Aren’t you at least a little disappointed?”
“Not particularly interested. Besides, I have an appointment this evening.”
“Then at least take her contact information.”
“If there’s meant to be a connection, we’ll meet again.”

Indeed, even the typically taciturn Bockus found her worth mentioning—she was a stunning beauty with an excellent figure that would naturally catch any man’s eye.
But I had helped her without ulterior motives, and more importantly, I had a crucial meeting ahead, so I dismissed her as a fleeting encounter and erased her from my mind.
Shortly after, I got into the Rolls-Royce that had just arrived and returned to the Hotel.

* * *

That evening.
Dressed intentionally in a Gucci suit and shoes, I arrived at Fortuna, an upscale restaurant whose name meant luck and destiny in Latin, alongside Landon Shore.
As we stepped through the entrance, the Female Server at the counter greeted our party in Italian.

“Welcome. Do you have a reservation?”

Landon Shore stepped forward and replied in English.

“We’re here to meet Alexander Bindman.”
“Ah, please wait just a moment.”

The Female Server responded in awkward English, as if she had been informed beforehand.
She then hurried inside and soon returned with the maître d’, impeccably dressed in a suit.
The middle-aged maître d’, whose hair was beginning to show streaks of gray, spoke to us with polite English tinged with an Italian accent.

“Mr. Bindman instructed us to seat his guests immediately upon their arrival. Please follow me this way.”

The maître d’ guided us to a table inside with a warm smile.
The restaurant was not particularly large, with only six tables in total.
Instead, the spacing between tables was generous, allowing diners to converse without compromising their privacy.

“I thought a Michelin three-star establishment would be larger, but it’s more intimate than I expected.”

Landon Shore whispered in a low voice as we followed the maître d’ ahead.
The patrons seated at the half-filled tables were generally older in age, and without exception, they wore expensive attire and savored premium wines with their meals.
The overall lighting was dimmed, with soft illumination cast only around the tables, and the tableware was unmistakably luxurious—the atmosphere clearly conveyed that this was a restaurant for the select few.
Our table was positioned toward the back, relatively secluded and shielded from the gazes of others.
Alexander Bindman, seated with Jacob Thompson, recognized Landon Shore from their meeting in Bahrain and rose from his chair, extending a greeting in fluent English.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again here.”
“The pleasure is mine.”

Landon Shore grasped the offered hand and spoke with a smile.

“And this gentleman is….”

Bindman’s gaze naturally shifted to my side.

“Ah, forgive me for the late introduction. This is Park Seok-won, the owner of our Investment Fund.”

No matter how many times Alexander Bindman looked at Seok-won, who appeared to be in his early thirties, he couldn’t help but stare in astonishment upon learning that this man was the owner of the Eldorado Fund—one of Wall Street’s most prestigious investment firms.
Jacob Thompson, dressed in his signature black suit accented with a white pocket square, wore an equally surprised expression.
At thirty-three, Jacob himself was constantly told he was too young to play a leading role in the design industry, so he found it impossible not to be amazed that someone who appeared to be roughly his age was the true owner of a Wall Street fund that managed tens of billions of dollars.

“Ahem.”

When Landon Shore broke the silence with a subtle cough, Bindman snapped back to attention and apologized.

“My apologies. I’m simply astonished—you’re far younger than I expected.”
“I understand. Most people have a similar reaction.”

Seok-won replied with composure and extended his hand.

“I’m Park Seok-won.”
“Alexander Bindman, overseeing Gucci’s operations. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Bindman then naturally introduced Jacob Thompson, who stood beside him.

“This is Jacob Thompson, our Creative Director.”

Thompson, tall and well-proportioned enough to have modeled in the past, looked directly at Seok-won and spoke.

“Jacob Thompson.”

Seok-won met his gaze with a smile, unflinching.

“I’ve heard much of your reputation. Your spring fashion collection was particularly impressive.”

Thompson’s eyes gleamed as he posed a provocative question.

“Could you be more specific about what appealed to you?”

Though the question might have seemed rude, it allowed Bindman to discern whether Seok-won’s compliment was mere flattery or genuine interest in Gucci—and he watched with keen curiosity.

“Gucci’s dignified, aristocratic aesthetic could feel somewhat dated and tedious in this era. Yet your spring collection infused it with an unprecedented refined sensuality, creating an entirely fresh allure.”

Seok-won answered with perfect composure, betraying not a hint of surprise.
When he pinpointed exactly what he wanted to inject into the Gucci brand—as if he’d glimpsed into Thompson’s innermost thoughts—the man was genuinely taken aback.
His guarded wariness dulled considerably, and in its place, a newfound respect for Seok-won took root.
Bindman, too, sensed that Seok-won viewed Gucci not merely as a financial asset but as a brand he genuinely understood and appreciated, and he gave a subtle nod of approval.
His demeanor noticeably softened as he addressed the group.

“I believe we’ve exchanged sufficient pleasantries. Shall we be seated?”
“Of course.”

With Seok-won’s agreement, the four men took their places at the table, facing one another.

“What would you like to order?”

The maître d’, who had been waiting attentively, presented the menu.
Seok-won scanned the offerings before his gaze lingered on the wine list.

“The Ferrari Riserva seems like an excellent choice for our first wine. What do you think?”

It was a Spumante crafted by a prestigious traditional winery renowned even in Italy.

“An excellent selection.”

Bindman spoke with genuine admiration.
Italian sparkling wines with robust carbonation were called Spumante.
It was not a choice one could make easily without proper knowledge of wine.

“And for the second wine, I’d suggest Ornellaia.”

As he selected wines with distinctive character at reasonable price points, warmth flickered across the maître d’s expression.

“We have an excellent vintage in stock. I’ll bring that for you.”

Bindman closed his menu and spoke.

“Let’s keep the meal simple—a five-course tasting.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“Our pigeon dish is exceptional. You won’t regret it.”
“I’ll have it prepared at once.”

The manager collected the menus and withdrew from the table.
Moments later, a Male Server arrived and placed an amuse-bouche before our party—a delicate appetizer meant to awaken the palate before the meal proper.
It was an oyster dish garnished with raspberry. Seok-won sampled it with a small spoon and nodded with evident satisfaction.

“Exquisite.”

Right on cue, the sommelier arrived with the ordered Ferrari Riserva and poured a glass for each of us.

“Let us toast to the hope that we shall become good partners in the days ahead.”

As I spoke, the three men lifted their wine glasses in unison and clinked them together gently.
After taking a sip, I savored the distinctive effervescence—crisp, cool, and subtly sweet—with evident pleasure.
This truly was a nation of gastronomy; even the coffee I’d had this afternoon was exceptional, and nearly every dish had proven delightful.

“First, I must thank you for traveling such a distance to Florence.”

Jacob Thompson spoke to me as I savored the wine.

“Since we shall be working together going forward, it’s only natural that we meet face-to-face and have a proper conversation, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I appreciate your understanding. I’ll speak freely then.”
“Please do.”

Jacob Thompson straightened in his seat and posed his question in a notably serious tone.

“I’d like to know what prompted you to acquire Gucci.”

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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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