Golden Spoon Investment Portfolio - Chapter 493

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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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493. All I can do is pray that this passes without major incident.

As dawn broke, Chairman Park Tae-hong rose at his usual early hour, stepping out of his bedroom in casual loungewear.
Hearing his footsteps traverse the spacious hallway toward the living room, the Gunsan Housekeeper emerged from the kitchen, her apron tied neatly, and offered a respectful greeting.

“Good morning, Chairman. You’re awake.”
“My throat feels parched. Bring me a glass of cold water, would you?”
“Of course.”

Chairman Park Tae-hong settled into his usual plush single-seat sofa.
With the curtains drawn open, brilliant morning sunlight streamed through the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows.

“I’ve brought your water.”

The Gunsan Housekeeper set down a glass of cold barley tea on the table with careful deliberation before returning to the kitchen.
Chairman Park Tae-hong moistened his throat with water and unfolded the morning newspaper that had been folded in half.
As he flipped through the pages, scanning the articles, his eyes suddenly halted on a headline that caught his attention.

[BlueSpace Acquires 610,000 Pyeong of Ministry of National Defense Land in Mosulpo for 176 Billion Won. Is the Era of Private Space Development Upon Us?]

After reading through the entire article slowly, Chairman Park Tae-hong furrowed his brow slightly and let out a hollow laugh.

“Well, I’ll be. So that rascal really intends to launch a space rocket.”

During the year-end family gathering, Seok-won had mentioned his plan to construct a launch facility on Jeju Island and send a space rocket into orbit.
Everyone had naturally been astonished, but given his penchant for undertaking such unconventional ventures, they had simply let it pass.
However, while his ambitions were clear, I never imagined he would actually move forward so immediately.
It was understandable skepticism—space development was something only advanced nations with cutting-edge scientific technology like the United States, Russia, and Europe could achieve, and no private enterprise had ever attempted it before.
Moreover, Korea was a barren wasteland in space development, lacking even a single launch facility, let alone space rockets, which made the prospect all the more doubtful.
Yet here was a headline announcing that he had purchased Ministry of National Defense land and was investing enormous sums to construct a space center—it was impossible not to be taken aback.

“I thought it would take at least ten years.”

Chairman Park Tae-hong’s brow deepened with concern.

“Ambition and money alone don’t guarantee easy success. I’m worried he’s rushing into this too hastily.”

I worried that we might simply waste enormous investment and time, only for the project to end in failure.
Yet my youngest son, who consistently delivered results far beyond expectations with surprising breakthroughs, gave me reason to believe he might dispel these concerns and achieve magnificent success this time as well.

“A space rocket… If he succeeds, he’ll accomplish something no one else has ever achieved.”

* * *

Meanwhile, when the construction plan for the Mosulpo Space Center was announced, residents in the Seogwipo City, Daejeong-eup area, the designated site, were thrown into upheaval.
In the bitter cold of winter, with sea winds carrying a piercing chill, an elderly farmer dressed in thick quilted clothing was spreading fertilizer across his harvested field for next year’s crops.
His lower back ached with each movement, but he didn’t stop, working his hands diligently.
Just then, a white Porter came to a stop on the road adjacent to the field.
With a creaking sound, the driver’s door opened and a man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties stepped out.

“Uncle Lim Gyeong-sik! I’m here!”

At the man’s resonant voice, the farmer finally set down his shovel and straightened his back.

“Ah, yes.”

The wind blowing from the sea quickly cooled the sweat from his skin and passed on.
Lim Gyeong-sik, a native of this village who had grown up here, waved in response, then stepped out of the field, moving his rubber boots—caked with muddy soil—one step at a time.

“Five bags of fertilizer, correct?”

The man pointed to the fertilizer bags loaded in the Porter’s cargo bed and asked.
Lim Gyeong-sik, who had climbed up to the field’s edge, removed his worn hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead as he answered.

“Yes. Just set them down over there on the field ridge.”

Though his face was deeply lined with wrinkles, the elderly farmer’s voice carried a vigor and vitality.

“You bought three bags last time and now you’re buying more?”

Lim Gyeong-sik, as if to ease the hardship of farm work, placed a cigarette between his lips, lit it, and exhaled a plume of smoke.

“Whether it’s people or livestock, they grow strong and healthy when well-fed. The land is the same—you have to spread plenty of fertilizer in winter for crops to grow well.”

It was wise counsel from a farmer who had steadfastly maintained his place here, but the man merely wore an indifferent expression.

“Did you not see the newspaper article from the other day? They’re saying some space launch facility or something is going up, and all the land around here is being requisitioned. There’s no point in fertilizing—it’ll all be for nothing.”
“Who does he think he is, taking my land like that? Absolutely not!”

When Lim Gyeong-sik flared up in anger, the man leaning against the cargo bed fired back.

“Whether you like it or not, the Ministry of National Defense already sold their land, and it’s a major corporation doing this. What can you do? Half the land you’re farming is leased from the Ministry of National Defense anyway.”
“Ugh, stop spouting nonsense and just unload the fertilizer already!”

At the irritated dismissal, the man shrugged and climbed into the cargo bed.
As he peeled back the waterproof tarp and began unloading the fertilizer sacks one by one onto the field ridges, Lim Gyeong-sik turned his gaze toward the field where he’d been spreading fertilizer just moments before.
Though not technically his own land, he had leased it from the Ministry of National Defense for the past twenty years, painstakingly picking out stones one by one, building up the field ridges, and spreading fertilizer to transform what had been barren wasteland into fertile soil.
The thought that he would lose this land—every inch bearing the sweat and blood of decades—and be unable to continue the farming that had defined his entire life was simply unbearable.
Lim Gyeong-sik’s face, etched with the weariness of years, hardened into a stubborn expression as he gazed out at his field.

“No. There’s absolutely no way that’s happening.”

Meanwhile, fishermen who had abandoned their work due to fierce winds and falling snow since morning had gathered in small groups at a pojangmacha near the Ferry Terminal, raising glasses of soju despite the early hour.

“Another bottle of soju over here!”
“Did he go out to catch mackerel? Why is he taking so long? At this rate we’ll empty the bottle before the appetizers even arrive.”

When the Hairy Fisherman spoke loudly, a plump middle-aged Female Tavern Owner wearing an apron around her waist brought over a plate of grilled mackerel and replied.

“You’re always in such a rush. Here you go!”

She set down a small brass pot of clam soup alongside it.

“There. On the house!”
“Hehehehe. Now that’s what I’m talking about—a hot broth makes the soju go down smooth. Our proprietress knows what she’s doing!”
“And yet you were just complaining the appetizers were late.”
“Who, me? Did I say that?”

The Hairy Fisherman spoke with shameless cheek, and the Female Tavern Owner let out a snort of laughter.

“Don’t laugh. Even an ugly face grows on you if you see it enough.”
“Are you saying I’m ugly?”
“Well, you’re certainly not handsome. That flat mug of yours looks exactly like a cattle thief. Bring me another bottle?”
“You got it.”

The Female Tavern Owner promptly brought a fresh bottle of soju, and the Hairy Fisherman uncapped it before filling his empty glass.
Besides the Hairy Fisherman’s group, the shop was packed with fishermen who had come to drink after a day’s work in the foul weather, creating a lively, boisterous atmosphere.

“Come on. Let’s drink!”

The Hairy Fisherman downed the potent soju in one gulp and set his glass down with a sharp clink.

“Ahh!”

Just then, a colleague across from him broached the subject with a worried expression.

“You’ve all heard the rumors about some kind of space center being built in Mosulpo, right?”

A man wearing a black beanie chimed in with a nod.

“They say it’s supposed to span from Seot-al Oreum all the way to Mundeuri-gol Coast?”
“That would be bad enough, but this morning I heard from the fisheries director that they’re reclaiming tens of thousands of pyeong in the waters off Mundeuri-gol.”

The Hairy Fisherman, who had been listening to his colleagues while picking at some side dishes, suddenly raised his eyebrows.

“Is that really true?”
“Of course. Because of that, when we go to Gapado Island or Marado Island from now on, we’ll have to take a long detour out to the open sea.”
“Damn it! What kind of nonsense is that! Fish are caught so abundantly in those waters, and they’re going to bury it all with dirt!”

As the Hairy Fisherman raised his voice in anger, the man in the black beanie also hardened his expression and joined in the outrage.

“If they reclaim that area, we’ll have to go out to even more distant waters to fish, and that’s just not possible!”

The colleague across from him also vented his frustration.

“The fisheries director says we’ll get some kind of compensation for fishing ground losses, but who knows how much that’ll be. If we take a few won and the fish stocks in the surrounding waters dry up, we’re the only ones left holding an empty bowl, aren’t we?”

The Hairy Fisherman gulped down soju repeatedly, his face flushed red as anger boiled up inside him.

“This is ridiculous! Why are these mainlanders suddenly making such a fuss about building some strange space center and bothering us like this!”

At that moment, the man in the beanie slammed his glass down and stared at his colleagues with bleary, alcohol-glazed eyes.

“Hey, Hairy Fisherman. You’re just going to stand by and watch this happen?”
“Of course not! We have to stop them!”

The Hairy Fisherman swung his thick fist through the air.
His colleague beside him immediately chimed in, raising his voice.

“That’s right! When they come asking for consent forms or whatever, let’s throw them all into the sea in front of the Ferry Terminal!”

Not just the three of them, but fishermen at other tables throughout the tent bar were baring their teeth and spewing negative remarks about the space center construction.
Amid the profanities echoing from all directions, two men who were clearly outsiders sat at a corner table, paid their bill, and quietly slipped out of the Pojangmacha.
As they stepped outside into the biting sea breeze cold enough to make one shiver, a heavyset middle-aged man furrowed his brow and spoke.

“I expected some resistance, but this atmosphere is really not good.”

Yang Hyeong-du, his subordinate, glanced back at the tent bar they’d just exited.

“You don’t think they’d actually throw us into the sea, do you?”

The two men were Blue Hole Construction employees dispatched to Jeju Island to acquire private land and obtain resident consent.

“Why? Are you scared?”
“They’re all grinding their teeth and sharpening their blades, so to speak. Doesn’t it bother you at all, Manager?”

Manager Hwang Seok-jin chuckled softly and pulled a cigarette pack from his inner pocket, placing one between his lips and lighting it.
He inhaled the white smoke deeply, then exhaled slowly and spoke with composure.

“When you work in construction, you encounter far worse than this. This is nothing. Besides, they’re just talking—they haven’t actually resorted to violence. Not yet, anyway.”
“True, not yet.”

Yang Hyeong-du’s expression darkened.

“But with the residents’ mood being this bad… is the Chairman really coming in person to the briefing session in a few days?”
“That’s what I heard.”
“I understand he wants to persuade the residents directly, but I’m worried that his visit might trigger an unfortunate incident and make things even more complicated.”

Having experienced the local atmosphere firsthand, his concerns only deepened.
Manager Hwang Seok-jin held the cigarette between his fingers and smacked his lips before speaking.

“I’m worried something might go wrong too, but what can we do if they’ve decided to come from above? All we can do is pray it passes without incident.”

Yang Hyeong-du scratched his head vigorously with one hand, utterly exasperated by the hopelessness of the situation.

“I heard civic organization people are going to flood the forum. This is absolutely maddening.”
“If they only threw eggs, that would be a mercy.”
“Should I prepare a resignation letter?”
“Maybe I should.”

Hwang Seok-jin, his expression etched with worry, gazed at the brightly lit street tent bar from which raucous laughter spilled out, then flicked his half-smoked cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath his shoe.

“Let’s head back to the lodging and grab some beer. No point lingering here and inviting trouble.”
“Yes, sir.”

With his shoulders sagging, Yang Hyeong-du followed Hwang Seok-jin as they departed the Ferry Terminal.

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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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