Golden Spoon Investment Portfolio - Chapter 32

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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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32. It’s better to be prepared than to be caught completely off guard.

The Study Room fell into a heavy silence, weighed down by the magnitude of what I’d just revealed.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly.
Park Tae-hong reached for the teacup before him, only to discover the coffee had long since gone cold, and set it back down.
Then, his voice emerged stiff and measured.

“You’re saying they’ll implement the Real Name Financial Transaction System targeting two former presidents?”

My older brother Park Jin-hyung and Gil Seong-ho held their breath, their eyes fixed on me.
Their gazes were heavy with tension, but I answered with complete composure.

“Of course, that won’t be the whole story. The Real Name System was something the opposition had been pushing hard for, and it was originally scheduled to be implemented last year before the Three-Party Merger caused it to be shelved. So there’s also an element of resolving that loose end.”

The Real Name Financial Transaction System—a law that had been drafted but left in limbo for years—resurfaced during the last presidential election.
All the candidates had rushed to promise its implementation, including Kim Sung-gyu, the current president-elect and chairman of the Democratic Korea Party.
President Noh Ki-hun had also repeatedly pledged to implement the Real Name System during his campaign, even setting a deadline of 1991.

‘But circumstances changed, and ultimately the promise was broken.’

The ruling party had been in a disadvantageous position with fewer seats than the opposition, but the Three-Party Merger had reversed that in an instant.
Various reasons were cited—concerns that money flowing out of the financial markets would rush into real estate, triggering speculation and overconsumption—but they were merely excuses.

“Many people criticize the Three-Party Merger and the shelving of the Real Name System together, so it’s an uncomfortable issue for Kim Sung-gyu. They’ll resolve it all at once.”
“….”
“And on top of that, by positioning it as an anti-corruption measure, they can eliminate personnel connected to the previous administration in one sweep. That would be killing two birds with one stone, wouldn’t it?”

Park Tae-hong’s expression grew grave. At first, the idea had seemed absurd, but as I laid it out, it became increasingly plausible.
My brother and Gil Seong-ho realized this wasn’t something to dismiss lightly, and tension etched itself across their faces.

‘Without the Real Name System, it would have been nearly impossible to uncover the hundreds of billions in slush funds hidden away by those two former presidents.’

Park Tae-hong finally muttered, his voice heavy and subdued.

“Dismantling Hanahoe and implementing the Real Name System… Either one alone would turn the entire nation upside down.”

Park Tae-hong swallowed a silent sigh and looked at me.

“Is there anything else you need to tell me?”
“That’s all.”
“Thank goodness. My heart is already racing from the shock—if you’d said there was more to come, I’d have lost a decade off my life.”

‘If I’d mentioned the IMF crisis, he might have had a heart attack right here.’

I watched Park Tae-hong massage his temples with a weary expression and thought as much.
This was still an era of unprecedented prosperity, buoyed by what people called the “triple low” phenomenon—low exchange rates, low oil prices, and low interest rates all converging at once. If anyone had suggested a foreign exchange crisis was coming, they would have been laughed out of the room.

‘If I hadn’t known what was coming, I never would have imagined the IMF crisis either.’

Some people mocked Korea for uncorking the champagne too early, but understanding the circumstances of the time, you could see why there was no other choice.

‘Who could have predicted that over a decade of triple-low prosperity would suddenly vanish?’

Of course, that didn’t absolve the government and corporations of blame for failing to prepare for contingencies and instead thinking only optimistically, thereby inviting the crisis upon themselves.
As I was lost in these brief reflections, Park Tae-hong’s voice reached my ears.

“You should head out now.”

Snapping back to reality in an instant, I nodded readily.

“Yes.”

The conversation had grown uncomfortable anyway, and I’d said everything I needed to say, so I rose from the sofa without hesitation.
Park Tae-hong watched my back as I turned from the sofa and left the Study Room, and the moment the door closed, he exhaled a deep, heavy sigh.

“Hmm.”

Looking around, the two men remaining in the Study Room wore expressions of bewilderment.

“I called him in just to have him learn the ropes of running the company, but now I feel like I’ve been handed a bomb I never saw coming.”

Thinking to myself that this boy never did things the way I expected, I reached out and opened the lid of the wooden box sitting on the table.
I pulled out a single cigarette from the neatly arranged contents and brought it to my lips, whereupon Gil Seong-ho quickly flicked his lighter and lit it for me.

“Ahh…”

I drew in a long drag of white smoke and exhaled it slowly, then looked at my eldest son, whose face bore an expression of deep concern, and asked him a question.

“What do you make of what Seok-won said?”

Park Jin-hyung, the focus of attention, did not answer immediately. He paused for a moment before speaking slowly.

“If implemented, these are matters with such massive repercussions that I’m honestly skeptical the president-elect would willingly take on such risk. However….”

As he trailed off cautiously, Park Tae-hong narrowed his eyes and pressed for the rest.

“Considering the president-elect’s resolute and bold character, and his political style of maintaining strict secrecy while discussing only with his inner circle before striking at the decisive moment, it wouldn’t be entirely impossible.”

Park Tae-hong nodded slightly in agreement.

“He does pull off surprise moves well.”

Because Kim Sung-gyu, the president-elect, frequently launched major initiatives without warning, the public had taken to calling his actions “surprise moves.”
Gil Seong-ho, the Chief Secretary, adjusted his glasses with his finger and spoke cautiously.

“Whether the president-elect will act as the second son predicts remains uncertain, but if he truly does, it will undoubtedly have considerable impact on the group.”
“It certainly will. Not only Hanahoe, but even the real-name financial system alone will create no end of headaches.”

Park Tae-hong, recalling the group affiliate shares and slush funds held under borrowed names, furrowed his brow deeply.

“Should we reach out to Representative Ju Seon-ho or the Transition Committee to find out if there are any signs of this?”

Representative Ju Seon-ho, a three-term senior legislator representing Busan, was a close associate of the president-elect and a key figure in the Sangdo-dong Faction.
As a university alumnus of Park Tae-hong, they maintained considerable rapport, with steady financial support flowing his way.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Park Jin-hyung shook his head as he spoke.

“If he’s truly plotting something, he’d be maintaining absolute secrecy. Not only would it be difficult to uncover, but we might invite unwanted misunderstandings and create problems for ourselves.”

Park Tae-hong, a cigarette smoking white wisps between his fingers, agreed with his eldest son’s words.

“Park’s right. Representative Ju would know the situation, but he wouldn’t tell us.”
“Now that you mention it, that’s true. My thinking was too shallow.”

Gil Seong-ho accepted this readily and withdrew.

“Still, I can’t just sit idle. Keep a close eye on the Transition Committee and the president-elect’s movements, but don’t dig too deep.”
“Understood.”

Even after issuing these instructions, Park Tae-hong fell silent for a moment, as if lost in thought.
In that silence, he continued smoking quietly until finally breaking it.

“And prepare a contingency plan for how to handle the nominee shares and slush funds when the real-name financial system is implemented.”
“…Yes.”

Gil Seong-ho, the Chief Secretary, answered with a hardened expression.

“I don’t know if they’ll actually go through with it, but it’s better to be prepared than to be caught completely off guard.”

Park Tae-hong, exhausted from the stress, rubbed his brow with one hand and leaned back in his chair.

“Let’s call it a day.”

Gil Seong-ho, the Chief Secretary, watched Park Tae-hong’s expression carefully, as if he still had something to say.

“You haven’t yet addressed the matter of the congratulatory funds for the president-elect…”

Since the military regime era, it had become customary for corporations to contribute money under the guise of congratulatory funds whenever a presidential election concluded.
Today’s gathering was itself held to decide how much to contribute.

“Right, that matter. I forgot about it because of that bastard Seok-won.”

Park Tae-hong squinted and let out a groan.

“My head’s too muddled right now. Let’s discuss that again at the office tomorrow.”
“Yes.”

As Gil Seong-ho acknowledged, Park Tae-hong waved one hand, signaling dismissal.

“Everyone, you’re dismissed.”

Park Jin-hyung and Gil Seong-ho rose from the sofa, bowed respectfully, and left the Study Room.
Alone now, Park Tae-hong stubbed out his cigarette—burned down nearly to the filter—in the crystal ashtray on the table.
Then, with a troubled expression, he muttered to himself.

“You’ve been surprising me since your time in the United States, and now that you’re back, you’re still at it.”

Park Tae-hong, pleased by the sight of his second son—who possessed insight and sensibilities beyond his years—grumbled even as a faint smile played at the corners of his mouth.

* * *

Time passed, the Christmas holidays came to an end, and 1993, the Year of the Rooster, dawned.

“Young master, shall I load these as well?”
“Yes, please.”

As I nodded, Kim Hyung-gi picked up the two large travel suitcases he had set by the entrance and carried them away.

“Why rush off to the United States so quickly? You could stay a few more days.”
“I need to go before the winter semester starts.”

Jo Deok-rye, standing in her long coat, spoke with a note of reluctance as she looked at me.

“But classes don’t start for another two weeks, do they?”
“It’s my final semester. I need to finish my thesis, so I should go back early.”

As I smiled gently to reassure her, Jo Deok-rye let out a sigh.

“I suppose there’s no help for it. The graduation ceremony is in May, isn’t it?”
“That’s right. You’ll be there, won’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Then I’ll treat you to an absolutely delicious steak. Look forward to it.”
“Hehe, yes. Though American steaks are tasty, the portions are always so enormous.”
“I think they’re just right.”
“That’s because you’re still growing.”

Jo Deok-rye smiled softly, as if even this brief exchange of pleasantries was precious to her.

“It’s cold—don’t come outside. Stay here.”
“All right. Take care of yourself, and focus on your studies, but don’t overexert yourself.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be going now.”
“Be careful. Even if you’re busy, call home often.”
“I will.”

Seok-won greeted the Gunsan Housekeeper beside him with a warm smile.

“Mother, thank you for everything.”
“Of course, young master.”

Glancing at my watch, I realized I needed to leave soon or I’d be cutting it dangerously close to my flight time.

“I really should be going now.”

I spread my arms and gave Jo Deok-rye a light embrace, then turned and left the house.
As I crossed the Garden and stepped beyond the fence, Kim Hyung-gi, who had already loaded all my luggage into the trunk, quickly opened the rear passenger door for me.
The moment I got in, Kim Hyung-gi moved to the driver’s seat and immediately pulled away in the car he’d already started.

The luxury sedan crossed Hannam Bridge and headed toward Gimpo International Airport along the wide Olympic Boulevard that ran alongside the Riverside.
Kim Hyung-gi caught a glimpse of me in the rearview mirror as I leaned back against the plush seat, gazing out the window.

“Would you like me to turn on the radio if you’re bored?”
“Yes.”

As Kim Hyung-gi pressed the button on the car stereo, a news broadcast came on.

[At approximately 1:20 AM this morning, a fire of unknown origin broke out in a commercial apartment building in XX district, XX city. During firefighting operations, an LPG gas explosion occurred.
The apartment building collapsed as a result, leaving 5 people dead and 44 residents and firefighters with serious injuries. They are currently receiving treatment at six hospitals across the city.
Fire authorities are….]

“What a tragedy to start the new year with such an incident.”

The entire nation was in an uproar from the morning news of the commercial apartment collapse.

“No matter how powerful the gas explosion was, for an entire building to crumble like that all at once. It’s not like they built it out of sand. Tsk, tsk.”
“It must have been shoddy construction.”

In fact, while the accident investigation later revealed that the gas explosion from the fire was the direct cause of the collapse, it was subsequently discovered that the fundamental problem was shoddy construction that left the apartment improperly built.

‘With reckless design modifications that exceeded the building’s load capacity, using substandard gravel and aggregate, and even omitting reinforcing steel entirely, it was inevitable that it would collapse.’

When wooden fragments were found instead of reinforcing steel inside the broken concrete at the site, it sparked enormous public outrage.

‘Come to think of it, it was around this time that the term “accident republic” started being used, as all sorts of incidents and accidents erupted during Kim Sung-gyu’s presidency.’

In truth, from President Kim Sung-gyu’s perspective, there was no shortage of grievances on this matter.
Most of the major disasters that occurred stemmed from structures built during the compressed growth period—shoddy construction bordering on negligence, erected with the tacit approval of responsible government officials.
These latent time bombs, accumulating over years, had all detonated at once during President Kim Sung-gyu’s tenure.

One could attribute it to misfortune, but the failures in management and post-disaster recovery couldn’t be overlooked either. He couldn’t claim to bear no responsibility whatsoever.

As I contemplated the cascade of major disasters that lay ahead, shadows deepened across my face.

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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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