Golden Spoon Investment Portfolio - Chapter 462

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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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462. This is the first time we’ve met in person. I’m Yuri Mikhailov.

“I’ll personally instruct the relevant departments to handle this swiftly without any delays. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Thank you.”

I smiled in response to President Ivanov’s visibly pleased words.
Then President Ivanov let out a hearty laugh that filled the entire office and spoke warmly.

“Chairman Park, you are a friend who helped our Russia during our most difficult times. Please come to me whenever you need anything.”
“I will.”

In the cordial atmosphere, I shook hands with him before turning to leave the office with Pavlovich.
As the thick wooden door closed, Prime Minister Vasily turned to President Ivanov with a concerned expression and spoke.

“Regardless of how outdated the space launch vehicle may be, it’s still a strategic national technology. I’m not sure if we should hand over all the Proton rocket technology, let alone the actual rocket itself.”

President Ivanov, who had sat back down on the sofa, pressed the intercom button on the side table instead of answering.

“Bring me a glass of vodka.”
[Understood.]

The Female Secretary answered through the intercom speaker.
President Ivanov loosened his necktie with one hand and turned his gaze to Prime Minister Vasily, who had sat down beside him.

“Didn’t you hear him say he’d hand over 3 billion dollars’ worth of government bonds in exchange?”
“But this is extremely sensitive technology that could potentially be converted into intercontinental ballistic missiles. Moreover, it’s a rocket that contains all of our Russian space technology. Handing it over so easily would bring more losses than gains.”

As Prime Minister Vasily expressed his discomfort, President Ivanov slightly furrowed his brows.
Just then, there was a knock from outside, and the Female Secretary set down a crystal glass filled with ice and strong vodka on the wooden table before leaving again.
No matter how much one enjoyed drinking, Prime Minister Vasily inwardly frowned at the sight of the President drinking vodka in broad daylight, no less in the office.
It wasn’t an ordinary time—the government had declared a moratorium due to difficult economic circumstances, yet the President was acting this way, which seemed utterly shameful.
While Prime Minister Vasily sat maintaining his composure, President Ivanov downed the cold vodka in one gulp.

“Indeed, vodka is far superior to bland tea.”

President Ivanov finally leaned back against the sofa with a satisfied expression and responded indifferently.

“After the 90-day payment deferral period expires, you’ll have to repay all the principal and interest on over 10 billion dollars in national bonds that have been postponed.”
“Of course.”
“Thanks to emergency rescue funds flowing in from the West and refilling our coffers, we’ve caught our breath. But if a massive amount of foreign currency drains away all at once, no one can guarantee that a foreign exchange crisis won’t resurface.”
“….”
“And you’re aware that it’s also difficult to issue new national bonds to repay the debt.”

Refinancing maturing national bonds by issuing new ones was the easiest and least burdensome method.
However, the moratorium declaration had completely destroyed market confidence, and no one wanted to buy Russian national bonds anymore.

‘Even if we could find someone willing to buy and succeed in refinancing, we’d have to offer far higher interest rates than usual—it would actually be better not to issue them at all.’

Since we’d have to pay more interest than principal when the bonds matured, it was advantageous not to issue new bonds now.
Caught between a rock and a hard place, Prime Minister Vasily let out an involuntary sigh of frustration.

“All the national bonds Chairman Park holds mature this month, which means they must be repaid entirely in cash once the deferral period ends. However, if we accede to their demands, we can eliminate one-third of the national bonds that must be repaid all at once after the moratorium ends.”

President Ivanov narrowed his eyes and looked at Prime Minister Vasily.

“If you can secure 3 billion dollars by next month, I’ll have you reject their proposal as you suggested. Can you manage that?”

Prime Minister Vasily remained silent, his lips pressed firmly together.
Though he had been recalled out of necessity, President Ivanov had never truly favored him, and he snorted derisively as if to say he’d expected this response.

“If you have nothing more to say, just do as you’re told.”

With that, he arrogantly picked up his crystal glass again and drank his vodka, and Prime Minister Vasily felt a surge of bitterness rise in his chest.
But the 3 billion dollars in national bonds that had to be repaid in just a few months was far more pressing than Proton rocket technology, so he had no choice but to close his eyes and let it pass.

‘No matter how much technology we hand over, Korea—which has never launched a single satellite—won’t be able to develop space launch vehicles on its own.’

Even though Seok-won was said to be a titan of Wall Street, it was his preconception that private companies couldn’t undertake space development, which required massive funding and cutting-edge technology.
That’s why Prime Minister Vasily didn’t oppose it to the end and backed down.
Not even thirty years had passed before the leadership of space development would completely shift from government to private sector, but neither Prime Minister Vasily nor anyone else could have predicted it at this time.

* * *

In the living room of the penthouse at the Radisson Royal Hotel on the Moscow Riverbank, I sat on the sofa with one leg crossed, sipping coffee while receiving a report from Pavlovich.

“The Kremlin has arranged for us to meet with Russian Space Agency officials and Khrunichev executives tomorrow to discuss the specific contract details.”

Its official name was the Khrunichev State Research and Production Space Center, and it was the representative aerospace enterprise that had designed and manufactured not only the Proton rocket series but all of Russia’s space stations, including Mir.
Setting down my teacup, I turned my head to glance at Han Ji-sung standing to one side.

“When did Dr. Choi Tae-ho say he would arrive?”
“He’s scheduled to depart Seoul on a private jet today and arrive late this evening.”

Dr. Choi Tae-ho was a highly respected aerospace engineering authority with impressive credentials and reputation from his NASA background.
He had returned to the domestic market several years ago and was teaching junior colleagues at a university, but I had recruited him with the intention of making him the head of the private space company I would establish in the future.

“That works out well. Dr. Choi will know the operational details better than anyone else. Please arrange for him to join us at the negotiation table.”
“I will see to it.”

Straightening my head, I looked at Pavlovich again and asked.

“How are things progressing with participation in the Sakhalin-II project?”
“As you know, the oil major Royal Dutch Shell holds 55% of the total equity and leads the project, while the Japanese companies Mitsui and Mitsubishi hold the remaining 45%.”
“So there’s no opening for us to slip in.”

Pavlovich answered cautiously, gauging my reaction.

“The Kremlin said that if they had their own stake, they would sell it immediately, but since that’s not the case and it would be difficult, they proposed an alternative.”
“What is it?”
“They’re offering us a stake in the development of the adjacent Sakhalin-III field instead of Sakhalin-II.”

The Sakhalin-III field was an offshore block located 24 kilometers east of Sakhalin Island.

“It has estimated reserves of 5.376 billion barrels of crude oil and 1.073 trillion cubic meters of natural gas. It’s far more economically viable than Sakhalin-II.”
“That would be true if drilling proves successful.”
“Pardon?”

As Pavlovich looked at me with a puzzled expression, I made a light dismissive gesture with one hand.

“It’s nothing.”

Then I tapped the armrest of the sofa I was sitting on with my fingertips, organizing my thoughts.
The Sakhalin-III field, or Block 3 as it was called, was estimated to contain more crude oil than the combined reserves of Blocks 1 and 2, and it was the place everyone had their eyes on, just as Pavlovich had said.
Because of this, the American oil major ExxonMobil had already won the development rights in 1993 and attempted to proceed with exploration.
However, the Russian government had not approved the project’s progress, leaving it in a stalled state until now.

‘If my memory serves me correctly, the project wouldn’t have gained momentum until 2005.’

After the Russian government reclaimed the existing business rights and conducted a re-bidding process, Japan, China, and Korea—all three Northeast Asian nations—threw their hats into the ring, creating fierce competition.
The first and second blocks had already yielded massive quantities of crude oil and natural gas, achieving tremendous success, so expectations were already sky-high, and a premium was added on top of that.
After intense competition, Sinopec, China’s largest oil company, won the bid for the stake and began exploration with Rosneft, Russia’s state-owned oil company.

‘But contrary to the high hopes placed in it, despite pouring enormous sums into exploration, the results were disappointing, and Sinopec eventually abandoned oil development and withdrew after just three years.’

Knowing these facts, I had no desire to accept the Sakhalin-III block stake even if they gave it to me for free.

‘But it would be such a waste to abandon the oil and gas fields on Sakhalin like this.’

After much deliberation, I suddenly came up with a good idea.

“If you were to give us a stake in the Sakhalin-III block, how much could you offer?”

Pavlovich, who had been waiting for me to finish thinking, answered immediately.

“We’re prepared to transfer 50%, half the stake, for 70 million dollars.”
“That’s not a bad price. Tell them I’ll acquire the third block stake as proposed.”
“I’ll do that.”
“How are things progressing with the proposals we sent to Gazprom and the other companies?”
“The economic situation is difficult, and everyone is struggling. They’re responding positively to our proposal to convert our corporate bonds into equity.”

I nodded slightly, as if I’d expected as much.

“Gazprom and Yukos Oil Company are already running deficits due to low oil prices, so they’d be even more inclined.”
“Exactly.”

But once international crude oil prices hit bottom and began rising again, they would regret converting corporate bonds into equity stakes.
Conversely, I was converting corporate bonds purchased at a 90% discount into company shares that would rise dozens of times over in the coming years—an extraordinarily profitable transaction.
With a satisfied expression on my face, I continued conversing with Pavlovich for some time.
While we were in the midst of our discussion, Han Ji-sung approached and spoke.

“Sir, your guest has arrived.”
“I see.”

I turned to look at Pavlovich with a gleam in my eye.

“Then let’s continue this conversation another time.”
“Of course. I’ll take my leave now.”

Pavlovich rose from the sofa and departed.
Watching the door close, I glanced sideways and spoke.

“You’ve kept everything we prepared safe?”
“Yes.”

Han Ji-sung produced a silver aluminum briefcase and held it up slightly for me to see.

“We shouldn’t keep our guest waiting any longer. Shall we head downstairs?”

I left the Penthouse and descended to another suite on a lower floor.
When Bockus, my bodyguard, pressed the doorbell, the sound of a lock disengaging echoed from within, and a powerfully built Caucasian man appeared at the door, opening it wide.
The man’s piercing gaze met Bockus’s for a moment before he glanced past at me and Han Ji-sung, then stepped aside to clear the way.
As I passed the man and entered the suite, another figure rose from the expansive living room sofa where he had been sitting alone.
Standing at roughly 170 centimeters with a compact, muscular frame, the man possessed sharp, intense eyes that radiated an icy, formidable presence.
This man was none other than Yuri Mikhailov, who would soon ascend to become Russia’s supreme leader.

“This is our first face-to-face meeting. I’m Yuri Mikhailov.”

The man, whose expressionless face seemed incapable of yielding even a drop of blood, extended his hand first and greeted me in fluent English.
I smiled faintly and clasped his hand.

“Park Seok-won. It’s truly a pleasure to meet you this way.”

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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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