Golden Spoon Investment Portfolio - Chapter 293

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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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293. What do you mean you have something to say?

It wasn’t even noon yet, but the temperature had already climbed to 34 degrees Celsius, and simply standing still in the oppressive heat made it feel as though my breath was being choked off.
A yellow beast of a car—a Lamborghini—roared across the shimmering asphalt of the Racing Circuit, the acrid stench of burning rubber piercing the air as the engine screamed with terrifying velocity.
The sports car that clung to the asphalt and exploded forward with raw speed was none other than a Lamborghini Diablo SE30 Jota.
It wasn’t just an ordinary model—it was a special edition created to commemorate Lamborghini’s 30th anniversary, a limited production run of only 150 units manufactured between 1994 and 1995.
It was equipped with a modified 5.7-liter V12 engine capable of producing a maximum output of 603 horsepower, and to reduce weight, all manner of convenience features had been stripped away in favor of expensive carbon fiber, making it approximately 200 kilograms lighter than the standard model.
In short, it was a racing machine built purely for speed—the most powerful engine among all Diablos.
Dressed in a form-fitting racing suit with a helmet secured on my head, I gripped the steering wheel tightly with both hands, my eyes wide open as I fixed my gaze straight ahead.
The ear-splitting screech of friction and the acrid smell of burning rubber sent every nerve in my body into overdrive.

Screeeech. Screeeech!

As I emerged from a series of consecutive corners, oversteer kicked in—the car’s angle of turn exceeded the angle I’d turned the wheel.
For a moment, I was about to veer off the track.
But I quickly loosened the steering wheel and managed to slip through the corner by the skin of my teeth.
A thrilling rush surged up my spine, and adrenaline flooded through my body like a torrent.
As the long straightaway stretched out before me beyond my helmet visor, I pressed the accelerator pedal with all my might.
The engine roar that thundered in both my ears exploded even louder, and the car shot forward like a wild beast unleashed.
In an instant, the speedometer needle crossed 300 kilometers per hour, and gravity pressed down on my body in the driver’s seat.
My heart raced in rhythm with the engine’s savage growl, fierce as a predator’s snarl.
As the straightaway ended and the next curve appeared, I downshifted while applying the brakes.
As the car approached the apex of the turn with my steering input, I quickly lifted my foot off the brake and pressed the accelerator again.
The car, gathering speed once more, drifted from the inside of the course toward the outside, gliding smoothly through the turn.

“Yes, this is it!”

Having taken the line perfectly and navigated the corner faster and more cleanly than usual, I let out a triumphant shout, my face flushed with exhilaration.
Energized even further, I upshifted and pressed harder on the accelerator pedal.
With no distracting thoughts whatsoever, focused entirely on driving, I pushed both the car and myself to the limit with fearless full throttle—a sensation of exhilaration that was incomparable to anything else.
Having once stumbled upon the Racing Circuit and tasted such exhilaration, I finally understood why people enjoyed dangerous extreme sports.
With the entire Racing Circuit rented out so I could drive freely, I continued my spirited run with the roaring engine.
Basking in the rush of adrenaline flooding through me, I circled the track several times before my stamina began to wane, at which point I gradually reduced my speed, exited the track, and returned to the pit.
Once I brought the car to a complete stop in front of the pit, I opened the gull-wing door and stepped out of the driver’s seat.

“Phew.”

I exhaled and removed the helmet I’d been wearing, only to find my hair completely drenched in sweat.
The acrid smell of burning rubber hung heavy in the air, and glancing down, I saw the fresh tires I’d installed today were shredded across the asphalt.

“Those are done for.”

I chuckled and shook my head.
I’d gotten carried away pushing the speed, and in less than a day, I’d completely shredded the new tires.
As I stood with the helmet tucked under my arm, peeling off my gloves, Han Ji-sung approached in quick strides, looking out of place in his formal suit at the racing circuit, and handed me a towel and a small bottle of water.
My throat was parched, so I unscrewed the cap and brought it straight to my lips, gulping down nearly half the bottle in one go.

“What’s the lap time?”

My thirst finally subsiding, I wiped the moisture from my lips with the back of my hand and asked.

“Two minutes and fifteen seconds.”
“That’s four seconds faster than last time.”

I spoke with satisfaction, and Han Ji-sung replied seriously.

“You’ve reached a level where you could compete as a professional driver.”
“Ha. I’m not quite there yet.”

I handed the helmet to Han Ji-sung and wiped the sweat from my face with the towel.
As I finished drinking the remaining water, Han Ji-sung spoke up.

“While you were on the track, Landon Shore called from New York.”
“Is that so?”

I gestured subtly with my hand, and Han Ji-sung retrieved my phone from his inner pocket and handed it to me with both hands.
Taking the phone, I instinctively dialed Landon Shore’s number and called him back.

[Hello?]

I walked over to a parasol table off to the side and sat down as I spoke.

“It’s me. I heard you called?”
[Yes. I heard you were at the racing circuit. How did the lap times go?]
“Pretty solid, actually.”

I chuckled lightly and put on a pair of black Ray-Ban sunglasses.
The intense sunlight beating down made it nearly impossible to sit comfortably with bare eyes.

[I contacted you because the investigation you asked me to conduct on Lamborghini last time has been completed, and I wanted to report the findings.]

I leaned back against the chair and gazed at the Diablo SE30 Jota positioned in front of the pit, admiring its sleek and agile chassis as I spoke.

“I thought it would take longer, but it finished quickly.”
[It’s the boss’s directive, so it had to be handled with top priority.]

I let out a soft laugh at his playful remark.

[You’re aware that despite Lamborghini’s return to Formula One and the launch of the hit model Diablo, the accumulated deficits continued, and Chrysler sold Lamborghini for forty million dollars two years ago.]
“The person who acquired it at that time was the youngest son of the Indonesian president at the time, so it became quite a hot topic.”
[That’s correct. Megatech, owned by Fuad Sudharman, who is the president’s son and a businessman, held one hundred percent of the shares, but last year two companies—Mycom, a Malaysian enterprise, and V Power in Indonesia—each acquired forty percent and sixty percent of the shares respectively and now hold them divided.]

I narrowed my brows slightly and asked.

“So Lamborghini’s ownership has been transferred elsewhere already?”
[That’s not the case. Both companies are also entities owned by Fuad Sudharman, so you can think of it as merely a change in the registered names of the shares.]
“Ah, I see.”

It was ironic that Lamborghini, synonymous with the finest luxury sports car brands alongside Porsche and Ferrari, had left the hands of its founding family and was being passed around like an unwanted stepchild.

‘When you consider that the vehicles cost tens of millions but are hand-produced with only a few units manufactured per year, it’s perhaps inevitable that they’d be running at a loss.’

Even the hit model Diablo, first released in 1990 and discontinued in 2001, produced only 2,884 units, which alone demonstrated how poor the profitability was.
In fact, Lamborghini had even filed for bankruptcy once before being acquired by Chrysler.

[Although Lamborghini had been suffering from chronic deficits, after the acquisition, they’ve implemented aggressive restructuring—cutting the expensive production costs that were problematic and reducing the workforce—significantly reducing the losses. It’s expected that they could achieve profitability starting around next year.]

In the meantime, Han Ji-sung brought over a glass of iced lemonade and set it on the table.
Given the already hot weather and the fact that I’d worked up a sweat, he’d thoughtfully prepared it knowing I’d need to rehydrate.
I gave Han Ji-sung a slight nod of gratitude and wore an expression of surprise.

“It seems Fuad Sudharman’s management abilities are quite impressive—he’s not just relying on solid backing.”
[Based on the results, that appears to be the case.]

Since I wouldn’t have given the directive to investigate Lamborghini merely out of boredom, Landon Shore lowered his voice slightly and asked.

[Should we sound out Sudharman to see if he’s willing to sell the Lamborghini?]

Seok-won stirred the ice in his lemonade cup with a straw before answering.

“If he were to acquire it, what do you think the asking price would be?”
[Well, we’d need to negotiate to know for certain, but if we successfully turn profitable this year as planned, considering the brand value, I’d say we shouldn’t go below $150 million.]
“So we’d be looking at more than triple our investment in just two years of ownership.”
[That’s precisely what it means—we’ve trimmed all the excess fat and completed the restructuring successfully.]
“It’s quite remarkable, really. Even Chrysler, one of the Big Three American automakers, threw in the towel on something we managed to pull off.”
[Exactly.]

Once the losses that had been dragging down the company’s valuation were eliminated, a significant increase in its worth was inevitable.

[Shall we send Sudharman a letter of intent to acquire, asking what price he has in mind?]

Seok-won gazed for a moment at the Diablo SE30 Jota, its chassis gleaming brilliantly in the sunlight, before speaking thoughtfully.

“No. Let’s leave it alone for now.”
[If you intend to acquire Lamborghini, it would be far more advantageous to initiate acquisition negotiations before the turnaround to profitability is complete.]
“I understand. But a hot deal is coming soon, so there’s no reason to overpay now, is there?”

While Korea had suffered greatly from the Asian financial crisis, Indonesia—where Sudharman operated—had also received emergency IMF bailout financing and sustained severe damage, with 13 percent of its entire GDP evaporating.

‘When an economic crisis hits, Sudharman won’t have any choice but to put Lamborghini—a non-core business—on the market to ease his liquidity pressures. I won’t even need to suggest it first.’

Naturally, waiting for the other party to offer the asset for sale would result in a far lower acquisition price than if I approached them first.

‘So it’s much smarter to keep it in my shopping cart until the hot deal emerges, and meanwhile multiply the acquisition capital I’ve set aside.’

A massive financial tsunami was about to sweep across Korea and the rest of Asia, and if I capitalized on the chaos skillfully, I could easily inflate the $150 million acquisition cost three or four times over.

[A hot deal? What do you mean by that?]

Landon Shore couldn’t fathom why Seok-won would suddenly invoke the term—it sounded like something from a home shopping network.
As Landon Shore expressed his bewilderment, Seok-won picked up his phone and flashed a broad grin.

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

* * *

Westchester County, New York, United States.
Adjacent to the Hudson River and offering easy commutes to Manhattan, the financial hub, Westchester County was one of the most coveted affluent neighborhoods among Wall Street financiers.
Even George Hamilton, the legendary hedge fund titan, maintained a country estate here.
A black Rolls-Royce glided through the iron gates and up the driveway toward the mansion, enclosed by towering walls.
The vehicle circled around the meticulously manicured garden with its fountain and came to rest before the main entrance.
As if on cue, a middle-aged butler in formal attire emerged and greeted Rodney as he stepped out of the Rolls-Royce.

“Welcome, Mr. Rodney.”

Rodney gave a slight nod of acknowledgment and followed the butler’s lead into the mansion.
After traversing a long corridor lined with plush carpeting, he entered the reception room at the far end, where George Hamilton sat on an antique-designed sofa in casual attire, reading documents. He looked up as Rodney entered.

“You’ve arrived. Come, have a seat.”

Rodney removed his overcoat, handed it to the butler, and settled into the empty sofa across from George Hamilton.

“Will you join me for a drink?”

George Hamilton gestured with his chin toward the tumbler resting on the table before him.

“I will, thank you.”

The butler, having heard Rodney’s response, brought a fresh glass, added a large ice sphere, poured whisky halfway, and set it before him. After a respectful bow, the butler withdrew and closed the door.
Once the door shut, Rodney spoke first, his curiosity evident.

“What is it you wished to discuss with me?”
“Still as impatient as ever, I see.”

George Hamilton set down the documents in his hand with a slight chuckle.
Then his expression turned serious as he posed his question.

“What are your thoughts on the Thai baht?”
“…!”

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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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