Golden Spoon Investment Portfolio - Chapter 297

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

297. I’ve lifted one burden off my shoulders.

Donghae Group Headquarters in Yeongdeungpo.
As a knock sounded and the door opened, Chief Secretary Jeon Hae-cheol entered, and Chairman Woo Yong-gap, who had been sitting at his desk, straightened his upper body.

“I was just about to call for you. Have a seat there.”

He gestured with his chin toward the sofa in the center of the office, and Chief Secretary Jeon Hae-cheol bowed his head in acknowledgment.

“Yes.”

Chairman Woo Yong-gap closed the report he had been reading, rose from his seat, and walked around the desk to settle into the seat of honor in the center.
As he crossed one leg over the other, his face appeared considerably more weathered than before.
The hostile M&A of Midopa Department Store, which he had pursued with such ambition, had ended in failure, dealing him a devastating financial blow and saddling him with multiple legal risks, including an investigation by the Securities Supervisory Authority.
As Chairman Woo Yong-gap opened the wooden case resting on the table and picked out a single cigarette from the neatly arranged contents, Chief Secretary Jeon Hae-cheol, seated on the right sofa, quickly rose and produced a lighter to ignite it.
Leaning back in his chair, Chairman Woo Yong-gap drew deeply on the pristine cigarette smoke, exhaled it slowly, and opened his mouth to speak.

“How are things progressing with securing funds for the acquisition of the securities company stake held by those Hong Kong people?”

Chief Secretary Jeon Hae-cheol, meeting his gaze, answered promptly in a measured tone.

“It appears we can secure 60 million dollars through HSBC on a two-year maturity basis.”
“How much is 60 million dollars in Korean won?”
“At the current exchange rate, it comes to approximately 49.5 billion won.”

Chairman Woo Yong-gap’s eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“That’s all we can get?”
“The exchange rate has risen significantly over the past few months to 826 won per dollar, so our foreign exchange losses have grown considerably.”
“Tsk. When things start going wrong, everything becomes a problem.”

Chairman Woo Yong-gap clicked his tongue and spoke with irritation in his voice.
Chief Secretary Jeon Hae-cheol, recognizing that even Chairman Woo Yong-gap himself thought the exchange rate was unfavorable and knowing that he had remained in a depressed state ever since the failure of the hostile M&A, wisely held his tongue and remained silent.
Soon, Chairman Woo Yong-gap lightly tapped ash from his cigarette into the crystal ashtray on the table and asked a question.

“Could we pull another forty million dollars or so in foreign debt?”
“I’ll need to discuss it with HSBC, but it should be possible. However, the interest rate isn’t favorable, so the burden will be substantial.”
“The rate was nine percent, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”

Nine percent was considerably higher than the average interest rate applied to domestic companies when raising funds overseas.
The premium reflected Donghae Group’s deteriorating financial condition following the failed hostile M&A attempt.
Chairman Woo Yong-gap’s expression grew clouded as he absorbed the high rate.

“Still, it’s lower than domestic rates in the double digits, isn’t it?”
“That’s true enough.”

Chairman Woo Yong-gap held a cigarette between his fingers, pondering briefly before lifting his head again.

“With our liquid reserves strained from cleaning up after the failed M&A, I’d like to secure more cash while we have the opportunity. What’s your assessment?”

It was undeniable that the group’s finances had become dire—Seok-won’s machinations had led to purchasing Midopa Department Store shares at inflated prices, only to sell them at a loss, while simultaneously acquiring Donghae Oil stock at double the market rate. The damage was substantial.
Furthermore, Ho-geun’s illegal activities—stock manipulation and unlawful loans—had drawn investigations from the Securities Supervisory Authority and the Prosecution into not only headquarters but numerous subsidiaries as well, making domestic fundraising extremely difficult.
Chief Secretary Jeon Hae-cheol agreed that increasing foreign debt to secure necessary operating capital was the prudent course.

“While the interest burden is considerable, it’s cheaper than domestic rates as you say, so it doesn’t seem like a bad option.”
“Then coordinate with HSBC to increase the loan amount to one hundred million dollars.”
“I’ll arrange it immediately.”

With this, I could completely liquidate the joint venture stake with the detestable Peregrine Securities in Hong Kong and secure forty million dollars in reserve funds—enough to extinguish the immediate crisis.
Once the ongoing sale of Donghae Medical was completed, we’d have some breathing room.
Chairman Woo Yong-gap, now visibly more at ease, stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette in the crystal ashtray and asked.

“By the way, didn’t you mention the first trial verdict in that stock manipulation case—Boseong Communications or something—comes down next week?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Damn fool.”

Fury rose in my chest at the mere thought, but he was my only son, so I pressed my fingers to my temples and swallowed the sigh threatening to escape.

“What do you expect the verdict to be?”

Chief Secretary Jeon Hae-cheol hesitated, then spoke carefully, gauging the mood.

“Given the overwhelming evidence that Executive Woo orchestrated the stock manipulation, it seems difficult to avoid a prison sentence.”

Chairman Woo Yong-gap frowned and stared down at the table.

“We hired four former prosecutors and judges as lawyers, and you’re telling me it’s still difficult?”

Jeon Hae-cheol, the Chief Secretary, answered with an uncomfortable expression at the pressing question.

“We were trying to avoid a guilty verdict and at least secure a suspended sentence so that Executive Woo wouldn’t have to go to prison. But during the trial, the prosecution presented promissory notes we’d given to friends who provided the bribes as evidence, and everything fell apart.”

Yoo Seok-chan and Jeon Geon-woo, pressured and persuaded by the prosecution’s threats that they could face years in prison as accomplices, accepted promises of leniency and betrayed their friend Ho-geun.

“To think he called himself friends with such worthless people. It’s pathetic.”

Chairman Woo Yong-gap clicked his tongue disapprovingly, his expression hardening.
Though his tone suggested that being surrounded by incompetent fools was bound to corrupt anyone, Jeon Hae-cheol privately thought they were all cut from the same cloth.
One only had to look at how Ho-geun tried to dump all the blame on Kwon Seung-seop, the president of Sanghoshin Credit Union, the moment the illegal loans came to light.
They were all the same type—friendly with each other, thoughtlessly committing illegal acts like stock manipulation. The words rose to his throat, but he chose not to voice them.

“If a prison sentence is handed down, how long do you think it will be?”

Chairman Woo Yong-gap deepened the furrow between his brows as he asked.

“The prosecution sought four years imprisonment and a 2 billion won fine, and there’s a high likelihood the court will accept that as is.”
“Four years in prison?”

Chairman Woo Yong-gap raised his voice as if the very idea was absurd.
Watching his already distorted expression grow even more savage, Jeon Hae-cheol hesitated before adding further.

“Considering that guilty verdicts are likely in other ongoing trials—the Sanghoshin Credit Union illegal loans case and the Securities Supervisory Authority corruption case—he may have to serve considerably longer.”
“Ugh…”

Chairman Woo Yong-gap pressed his forehead and let out a groan of anguish.

“He’s not a son—he’s a curse. A curse.”

Thinking of the financial chaos Ho-geun had created and the group’s image now dragged through the mud, even Jeon Hae-cheol could only sigh inwardly.

‘Despite such a catastrophic blunder and having proven himself unfit for management, in the end he’ll probably still hand the group over to Executive Woo.’

Even now, seeing how he gets angry when told he might have to serve actual prison time, yet still takes his side—it was clear enough.
Ho-geun, who inherited the chairman’s position, had no hope whatsoever of growing the group.
Jeon Hae-cheol, the Chief Secretary, wore a bitter expression, thinking he just hoped the group wouldn’t collapse.

* * *

“I’ve brought the first edition of tomorrow’s morning newspaper.”

Na Seong-mi, who knocked and entered, carefully placed the neatly arranged first editions on the desk.

“Thank you.”
“Would you like me to make you a cup of coffee?”
“That would be nice.”
“Of course. I’ll bring it right away.”

Na Seong-mi left with a slight smile.
Seok-won then pushed aside the documents he’d been reviewing to one side of his desk and reached out to pick up the top newspaper from the stack Na Seong-mi had brought.
The fresh ink smell wafted strongly from the paper, evidence it had just come off the printing press.
As always, I carefully scanned through the articles printed from the front page, reading them thoroughly.
After reviewing the politics and society sections, just as I was about to turn to the business section, Na Seong-mi arrived with an iced Americano with ice.

“I’ll enjoy it.”

As Na Seong-mi left with the empty tray, I picked up the glass and took a long sip of the iced Americano.
With an extra shot added to suit my taste, it was coffee with a rich, intense bean flavor.
As the caffeine kicked in, the afternoon drowsiness that had been weighing on me seemed to lift, and I felt a strange surge of vitality returning to my body.

“This is why I can’t quit coffee.”

I took another sip of the iced Americano and turned the page to the society section.
Then one article with a photograph caught my eye.

[
Donghae Group’s Ho-geun Appeals Conviction in Stock Price Manipulation Case
Ho-geun, former executive of Donghae Group, who was sentenced to four years in prison and a fine of 1.75 billion won in the first trial for manipulating Boseong Communications stock prices and causing significant damage to individual investors, announced he would appeal the prison sentence. Ho-geun claims that while he did attempt stock price manipulation, the stock price plummeted before he could sell, so he gained no profit and instead suffered massive losses, making the prosecution’s request and the court’s verdict excessively harsh.
In response, the prosecution argues that even without actual gains, disrupting the stock market with such intent….]
Regarding this, the Prosecution states that even if no substantial gain was obtained, the stock market was disrupted for such purposes…

Seok-won lifted one corner of his mouth as he looked at a black and white photograph of Woo Ho-geun leaving the courthouse with a completely hardened expression after receiving the first trial verdict.

“Even if he appeals, it’ll be hard to avoid a prison sentence. But considering all the other trials waiting in the wings, he’ll want to reduce his sentence however he can.”

The evidence in the other ongoing trials was so clear that it would be difficult to evade responsibility, and given the severity of Woo Ho-geun’s crimes, a heavy sentence was unavoidable.
Seok-won set down the newspaper in his hand and muttered to himself.

“Still, Woo Ho-geun won’t serve his full sentence.”

Even if he received consecutive sentences in all the trials and ended up with nearly ten years, it was as predictable as fire that once public interest faded with time, he would quietly walk out of prison through a Christmas or Liberation Day pardon.

“The law has always been weak in the face of money and power.”

It was an uncomfortable truth, but unlike the powerless common people, the reality was that conglomerates and powerful figures who were caught embezzling hundreds of billions or gaining unfair advantages and received prison sentences would quickly walk free from prison and resume their lavish lifestyles without a care in the world.

“Woo Ho-geun won’t come to his senses from this, but at least for a while, I won’t have to run into that irritating face by chance.”

Just then, the phone on the desk rang. Seok-won checked the number on the screen and answered.

“Hyung? What’s going on?”
[Are you busy?]
“No. I’m fine.”
[It’s about what you said at the Park Family Residence last time.]
“Yeah.”

Seok-won recalled the warning he had given his father and older brother about the possibility of a foreign exchange crisis.

[We’ve decided to postpone the expansion of the Shenyang Manufacturing Plant and implement austerity measures, just as you suggested.]
“Really? That was the right call.”

Seok-won replied with a pleased expression.

[After hearing what you said, I looked into the situation, and the signs really aren’t good.]
“Even if the worst doesn’t happen, the economy will definitely worsen going forward. There’s no harm in preparing in advance.”
[I think so too. Anyway, I thought you should know, so I called. You must be busy, so let’s hang up and grab a meal together later.]
“Just let me know whenever.”

After ending the call, Seok-won felt relieved that his father and older brother had heeded his warning this time and begun making preparations.

“If the International Monetary Fund crisis hits, I won’t have to worry about the Daeheung Group anymore. That’s one less burden.”

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