Golden Spoon Investment Portfolio - Chapter 463

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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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463. Chairman Park certainly knows how to appreciate his son’s worth.

In the spacious Royal Suite Room, I sat across from Yuri Mikhailov on a plush leather sofa, both of us impeccably dressed. His sharp gaze met mine with unwavering intensity.
Beyond the expansive windows, pleasure boats drifted across the river, and beyond them rose the magnificent Russian Federal Government Building with its pristine white facade—a breathtaking vista that neither of us bothered to acknowledge.
Our attention remained fixed solely on each other.
I spoke first, my voice measured and composed.

“Though it comes a bit late, I wanted to congratulate you on your promotion to Director of the Federal Security Service.”
“Thank you.”

As befitted his KGB background, Director Mikhailov spoke English with fluent precision.
The KGB, the Soviet Union’s federal intelligence agency, had been restructured following the dissolution of the USSR, with its domestic security and foreign intelligence divisions separated. This reorganization gave birth to the Russian Federal Security Service, or FSB as it was abbreviated.
It was a powerful institution responsible for counterintelligence, counterterrorism, border security, serious crimes, federal law enforcement, and even limited foreign intelligence operations.
Becoming the head of such an organization meant ascending directly into the inner circles of power.

“President Ivanov seems to hold you in considerable regard.”
“I am honored by his trust.”

Mikhailov’s expression remained characteristically impassive as he replied.

“Which only speaks to your considerable abilities.”

I, meanwhile, continued to regard him with a subtle smile.

“I believe you have the potential to rise even higher in the future.”

At that, Mikhailov’s pupils flickered momentarily before he concealed the reaction. It was the briefest of instants, but I caught it—and immediately retrieved the aluminum briefcase resting at my feet, placing it on the wooden table between us.
It was a very brief moment, but Seok-won didn’t miss it and picked up the aluminum briefcase from the floor, placing it on the wooden table.

“I didn’t want to arrive empty-handed, so I prepared a modest gift.”
“I didn’t want to come empty-handed, so I’ve prepared a small gift for you.”

Watching his sharp gaze flicker, I spoke calmly.
Then he opened the lid, and his eyes fell upon the bag completely filled with bundles of hundred-dollar bills wrapped in paper bands.
Seeing Director Mikhailov’s eyes twitch, Seok-won spoke calmly.

“One million dollars.”
“….”
“To accomplish great things, one’s coffers must be well-lined, wouldn’t you agree? Should you require more, please don’t hesitate to ask at any time.”

At that, Yuri Mikhailov, whose blue eyes had been piercing through Seok-won like a frozen glacial lake, asked with blunt directness.

“What is your reason for supporting me in this manner?”

Seok-won met that intense gaze without flinching, responding with composed ease.

“As you know, I’m an investor. One of the most profitable methods in investment is to purchase assets with high growth potential at a low price and reap all the gains when they appreciate.”
“So you’re investing in me with an eye toward the future, is that it?”
“Precisely.”
“But what if I fail to grow as much as you expect?”

At Yuri Mikhailov’s words, Seok-won’s lips curved upward slightly.

“The fact that you rose from Deputy Chief of the Presidential Administration to Chief of Staff and then directly to FSB Director within merely a year of your initial appointment is proof enough that my judgment hasn’t been wrong.”

Observing Yuri Mikhailov listening quietly without a word, Seok-won continued.

“Of course, I believe you’re not satisfied with stopping here—you’re aiming for something even higher.”

Yuri Mikhailov didn’t bother to deny it.
Instead, a faint smile graced his lips for the first time, and with confident composure, he placed his hand on the briefcase.

“Since you call it a gift, I shall accept it graciously.”

Yuri Mikhailov closed the lid of the silver aluminum briefcase and set it at his feet.
On his wrist gleamed the expensive watch Seok-won had gifted him previously.
Straightening his posture, Yuri Mikhailov opened his mouth with noticeably warmer demeanor than before.

“I hear you have considerable interest in rocket technology.”

True to his role as head of an intelligence agency, he had already grasped that Seok-won was seeking to acquire Proton rocket technology, and I nodded inwardly in acknowledgment.

‘Not even three months since becoming FSB Director, yet he’s already completely consolidated control of the organization and is monitoring every development at the Kremlin without missing a thing.’

Confirming once again that this was no ordinary adversary, I gave a small nod.

“That’s correct. I have a strong interest in space development. For the launch vehicle for a new private satellite business we’re starting, we plan to use the Proton rocket, which has proven reliability.”

Yuri Mikhailov withdrew a folded sheet of paper from his inner pocket and laid it before me.

“The engine is the most critical component of a rocket. This is a list of retired employees from Energomash, the company that manufactures the RD-275 engine used in the Proton rocket.”
“…!”

Startled by this unexpected revelation, I straightened in my seat, and Yuri Mikhailov’s lips curved into a subtle smile.

“Rather than merely receiving technical documents, having the assistance of those who actually developed and manufactured the engines will allow you to master the technology far more rapidly.”

Yuri Mikhailov continued, gesturing toward the list on the table with his chin.

“None of them have been retired for more than three years, so you’ll be able to acquire the latest technologies currently in use.”

I picked up the paper and unfolded it to find roughly ten names listed with detailed personal information.
At a glance, these were no ordinary talents—they were core personnel who had worked in engine research and production divisions for over two decades.
If I could bring together all the talents listed here, I could readily manufacture the crucial RD-275 engine.
Though caught off guard by this unexpected gift, I quickly regained my composure, looked up at Yuri Mikhailov across from me, and smiled.

“Ha ha ha. I came here intending to offer congratulations, but instead I’ve received an unexpectedly magnificent gift.”

Typically, such talented individuals remained under state management even after retirement and leaving their companies.
In other words, even if I wanted to recruit them, the Russian government and intelligence agencies would not permit it.
Yet the head of the FSB, who oversees domestic intelligence, had personally handed me this list—which was tantamount to turning a blind eye to my taking these talents away.
It was truly a gift that scratched exactly where it itched.

“Relationships endure when there is mutual exchange, don’t you agree?”
“You speak the truth.”

I broke into a broad smile, my teeth gleaming.
Our eyes met in the space between us, and we both smiled, confirming that our interests aligned perfectly.

***

“The government isn’t taking over the Gimpo Landfill—they’re handing it directly to Daeheung Group!”

Song Dae-seop, Chairman of the Asia-Pacific Group, slammed his palm against the armrest of the sofa and bellowed in fury.
The group executives seated on either side shrank their shoulders and exchanged nervous glances.

“On top of that, they’re bundling Korean Tongun together and selling it all as one package. These bastards are conspiring to carve up our group!”

Song Dae-seop’s face flushed crimson with such fury that he looked ready to explode, his neck veins bulging as he raged.
While everyone else instinctively shrank back, afraid of catching stray sparks from his thunderous voice that reverberated through the President’s Office, Baek Jae-woong, his closest confidant, carefully ventured to speak.

“Chairman, please calm yourself and compose your emotions.”
“How can I be calm when thieves are robbing us blind of our most valuable assets!”

Song Dae-seop snorted like an enraged bull, breathing heavily through his nostrils.
Seeing this, Baek Jae-woong sighed inwardly and spoke in a soothing tone.

“With the entire group already under workout status, reducing debt through asset sales is an unavoidable choice. You yourself approved the sale of Gimpo Landfill and Korean Tongun, Chairman.”
“Ugh.”

When confronted with the facts, Song Dae-seop’s expression softened slightly as he let out a groan, and Baek Jae-woong continued.

“Most importantly, to honor our commitment to the creditor consortium to repay half of our total debt—2.644 trillion won—within three years, the sale of these two largest assets is essential.”

Then Hong Seung-han, the president of Aepae Construction seated across from him, interjected to add his support.

“That’s right. While we understand you hold Gimpo Landfill dear, Chairman, under workout status it’s classified as non-business real estate, generating 500 billion won in annual taxes. It’s simply untenable to continue holding such a burden.”
“Damn it! Nothing’s working out.”

Song Dae-seop spat out a curse, yet he no longer bellowed loudly.
He knew all too well that once the group entered workout, decision-making authority was no longer his.
Still, summoning these executives to vent his rage was his only outlet—without it, his grievance and resentment would have nowhere to go.
When Song Dae-seop lit a cigarette, Baek Jae-woong, seated beside him, quickly flicked his lighter to light it.

“Sigh.”

Song Dae-seop inhaled the cigarette smoke deeply and exhaled it.
As nicotine entered his system, his anger seemed to subside slightly.
With the cigarette between his fingers, Song Dae-seop looked at Baek Jae-woong and spoke.

“I heard Daeheung Group is paying the entire acquisition price in dollars.”
“Yes. The decisive reason they were able to win the bid for both Gimpo Landfill and Korean Tongun was precisely because they’re depositing the payment in dollars.”

Song Dae-seop snorted derisively and spoke with a sneer.

“Hmph. The exchange rate is creeping back up again—signs of another currency crisis brewing. No wonder they’re eager when dollars are on the table.”

Baek Jae-woong carefully offered his response, gauging the chairman’s expression.

“It’s unfortunate, but if the sale goes through, 2.7 trillion won will come in, allowing us to settle all our debt obligations to the creditor consortium in one stroke.”
“Then we won’t need to sell off any more assets.”

Baek Jae-woong adopted a positive demeanor at the hopeful gaze directed at him.

“We’ll need to discuss it with the creditor consortium, but since we’re fulfilling our promised debt repayment in full, they won’t have much to say.”
“That’s excellent news.”

Song Dae-seop, who had grown thoroughly sick of the creditor consortium’s constant meddling, wore an expression as if a decade-old case of indigestion had finally lifted.
Especially galling was the pressure to relinquish management rights and step down despite having invested 55 billion won of his own fortune—the stress had been unbearable.

‘I won’t let the bankers steal my company.’

Though the company had gone public and the shareholders were technically the true owners rather than the founder personally, Song Dae-seop saw things differently.
Song Dae-seop lit another cigarette and asked:

“But where on earth did Daeheung Group get all those dollars from?”
“According to what I’ve heard, they secured the acquisition funds through Park Seok-won, the president of Daehung Venture Capital.”
“You mean that second son who’s a big shot on Wall Street?”
“Yes, sir.”

Song Dae-seop’s brow furrowed at Baek Jae-woong’s answer.

“So the rumors about him commanding enormous capital are actually true, it seems.”
“There’s talk that Daeheung Group weathered the currency crisis without major difficulty largely thanks to that second son’s support.”

Hong Seung-han, president of Aepae Construction, interjected with an additional comment.
Hearing this, Song Dae-seop’s expression turned sour, and he spoke bluntly:

“Chairman Park certainly reaps the rewards of having such a capable son.”

Thinking of his own son, who had stumbled in drunk last night despite the company’s dire straits, Song Dae-seop felt his chest tighten with frustration.

“Damn it.”

Chairman Song Dae-seop stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray with visible irritation.

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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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