Golden Spoon Investment Portfolio - Chapter 495

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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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495. Looking at the atmosphere, it seems everything is already decided.

As the murmuring subsided, I slowly surveyed the assembled participants before speaking with a measured tone.

“Regarding your earlier concerns about safety during the space rocket launch—the distance between Mosulpo Port and the launch pad exceeds 2.6 kilometers, ensuring sufficient safety margins. Moreover, we’ve constructed the launch facility on reclaimed coastal land, positioning it as far as possible from residential areas to prevent any potential damage. Furthermore, all launches will be directed toward the southwestern waters, avoiding Gapado Island, so even if debris falls, it will land in the sea with no impact on residents.”

At this, the Hairy Fisherman—who had vented his grievances with colleagues at a tavern—suddenly rose to his feet and rebutted with a sharp tone.

“So you’re saying we can’t go out to sea for several days each time you launch a rocket, which means we can’t fish? And what about the possibility of the fishing grounds being damaged by falling debris!”
“That’s right! We lose money every day we don’t work the boats.”
“So much fish is caught in the waters near Gapado Island—if the fishing grounds are ruined, you’ll be responsible for it!”

Not just the Hairy Fisherman, but fishermen throughout the hall stood up, raising their voices and pointing accusingly.
As the atmosphere rapidly deteriorated, Hwang Seok-jin hurriedly brought the microphone to his lips and spoke.

“Everyone! Please calm down. If you have questions, please raise your hand to be recognized before speaking!”

But the fishermen paid no attention and raised their voices even louder toward me standing at the podium.

“Did you think we’d be delighted if you threw us a few scraps of compensation like charity!”
“We don’t need a space center or any of this—get off our land right now!”
“That’s right!”

Rather than calming down, the commotion grew louder with fierce opposition, and Hwang Seok-jin couldn’t hide his bewilderment.
Jeers and shouts filled the auditorium, and the participants’ resistance crashed down like powerful waves.
Not only Hwang Seok-jin but also Jung Gyu-chul, seated in the back, tensed visibly, worried that something unfortunate might occur.
Yet even amid this chaos, I stood alone on the platform without the slightest movement.

Despite the accusations and shouts before my eyes, I didn’t even raise an eyebrow, maintaining composure as serene as the quiet depths of the sea.

“You were just running your mouth a moment ago—did you suddenly go mute? Why aren’t you saying anything!”

The Hairy Fisherman, his face flushed with agitation, pointed at me with an accusing finger.
At that moment, I brought my palm down hard against the podium.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Three short, dull sounds rang out in succession, and the noise that had been filling the auditorium fell silent as if by magic.
The gazes of the Hairy Fisherman and the other attendees converged on Seok Won-han standing at the podium.
I swept my eyes slowly across the assembled crowd with a gaze that appeared emotionless yet somehow radiated an inexplicable charisma.
Whenever my gaze landed on someone, they flinched under the silent pressure that seemed to emanate from me.

“What, what is this….”
“As if staring like that would scare us.”

Some deliberately tried to bluster, but they couldn’t recapture the momentum from moments before.
Then a calm yet resolute voice flowed from my lips.
Though I wasn’t speaking particularly loudly, my words somehow struck their ears with crystalline clarity.

“I understand your concerns and worries well. Since you make your living on these rough seas, it’s only natural that you’d be anxious about the possibility of the fishing grounds being damaged.”
“….”
“And it’s true that if navigation restrictions are imposed on the surrounding waters for the rocket launch, you’ll have no choice but to suffer losses by being unable to go out fishing.”

They had expected me to simply reassure them that everything would be fine, but instead, upon my frank acknowledgment of the fishermen’s damages, the resistant attendees looked even more bewildered.

“What is he saying.”
“So our point is right then?”
“But can a chairman like that really do that? Isn’t it disadvantageous for them?”

As whispers spread through the crowd, I opened my mouth again.

“No matter how important the space center construction is for the future, I believe it’s unthinkable and must not happen to demand that you, who have made your homes here for so long, unconditionally endure such hardship.”

I rose from my seat and looked directly at the Hairy Fisherman and the fishermen as I continued.

“When navigation restrictions are imposed due to the rocket launch, we will provide compensation to those who were fishing in the affected areas.”
“Compensation? How exactly would you provide it?”

The Man in Black Beanie suddenly asked with a curious expression.
The other fishermen, also quietly curious about that detail, turned their gazes toward me without saying much.
Having naturally seized the initiative by drawing out the atmosphere, I spoke through the microphone with my back held straight.

“We will provide compensation based on average catch amounts for each day you’re unable to go out fishing. Of course, to prevent fraudsters seeking compensation, we’ll limit the recipients to only those registered with the Fishing Village Association.”

At this, the fishermen nodded their heads and began muttering among themselves.

“If we hand out compensation to just anyone, every Tom, Dick, and Harry will come crawling, demanding their share. This way is better.”
“That’s right.”
“If we’re paying them for the fishing they can’t do, that’s not a bad deal, is it?”
“Exactly.”

As the fishermen’s aggressive momentum—as if they might overturn the briefing at any moment—began to subside, I made a subtle gesture.
Yang Hyeong-du, who had been standing vacantly beside the projector watching the situation unfold, quickly manipulated the slides and displayed them on the screen.
However, the concerns about fishing ground damage from falling debris remained unresolved.
I raised one arm and pointed to the screen displayed behind me as I spoke.

“What you’re seeing now is a research report from the United States investigating the impact of rocket launch facilities on nearby marine ecosystems. Looking at this data, you can see that noise and debris from rocket launches have no significant adverse effects on marine ecosystems.”
“How can we trust this when you’re only bringing materials favorable to your side?”

The Hairy Fisherman asked with an attitude considerably more subdued than before.

“Of course, you could be suspicious. But logically speaking, we’re not launching rockets every single day of the year—at most, we only launch a few times every three or four months. The likelihood that fishing grounds would be destroyed or the marine environment polluted to any significant degree is extremely low, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Hmm….”

The Hairy Fisherman couldn’t quite respond and let out a murmur of acknowledgment.

“Now that you mention it, that makes sense.”
“We get fierce typhoons several times a year that churn up the entire seabed. A few rocket launches wouldn’t have much impact.”
“Even if debris falls, it’s such a vast ocean that it wouldn’t even be noticeable.”

As the fishermen murmured among themselves and began to nod in agreement, I continued speaking.

“However, since nothing in this world is perfect and there could be adverse effects we haven’t yet identified, we will release hundreds of thousands of fish fry annually to maintain fish resources in the surrounding waters.”
“So they’re providing damage compensation when we can’t fish, and they’re even releasing fry? That seems reasonable enough, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t think it’s a bad deal either.”

Even the Hairy Fisherman, who had been raising objections with sharp words, apparently found my proposal acceptable and quietly returned to his seat.
Just as the fishermen’s resistance began to ease, Lim Gyeong-sik—wearing a worn jumper and a cap he’d received from a pesticide company pulled low over his head—stood up and spoke.

“Fine, the sea is one thing, but what about the land!”

Lim Gyeong-sik held up his hands, which were covered in calluses from years of labor and deeply lined with wrinkles, as if to show them.

“This is land I reclaimed with these two hands over more than twenty years, picking out gravel and rocks one by one from barren wasteland—land soaked with my blood and sweat! You say it was just a lease, but to snatch it away in an instant like that—how can you even call that reasonable!”

At that, farmers in the same predicament as Lim Gyeong-sik rose to their feet with faces flushed with anger, raising their voices in unison and protesting harshly.

“During the last election, you politicians sweet-talked us into believing you’d transfer the land to residents. And now, instead of keeping your promise, you’re seizing it outright? What kind of nonsense is this!”
“I absolutely refuse to give up my land—you can go to hell!”

In truth, whenever elections came around, politicians from both ruling and opposition parties alike had made the same pledge: “The land was improperly seized during the Japanese occupation without adequate compensation and subsequently transferred to state ownership. We will ensure that residents who have been leasing and cultivating this agricultural land receive ownership rights.” Yet these promises had never been kept.
In such circumstances, for the Ministry of National Defense to suddenly announce the sale of the land and declare that farming would no longer be possible was both bewildering and infuriating.
Seok-won listened quietly for a moment to the farmers’ anguished outpouring, then seized the microphone.

“I fully understand how distressing it must be to suddenly lose land you’ve cultivated for so long. That’s why I’d like to present two alternatives.”

At Seok-won’s gesture, Yang Hyeong-du quickly manipulated the projector and advanced to the next slide.
An aerial photograph of the Mosulpo area appeared on the large screen.

“As you’ve already heard, we plan to develop a historical park that integrates the underground bunkers and aircraft hangars of Altneul Airfield, located to the northeast of the planned space center site, along with the 4·3 historical relics of Seot-al Oreum.”

The farmers, including Lim Gyeong-sik, fell silent with curious expressions, wondering what this was leading to, as Seok-won continued his explanation calmly.

“Once the park is constructed, we’ll need considerable personnel for guidance and facility management. I intend to prioritize hiring opportunities for those who have been farming on the affected land.”
“What?”
“Park management work for farmers?”

As the atmosphere in the hall threatened to turn ominous again, Seok-won spoke.

“These will be permanent positions, not temporary contracts, with guaranteed retirement at age sixty. We’ll provide an annual salary of twenty million won and full coverage under the four major insurance schemes. And I should mention—not just you, but any family member can apply for one position each.”

The murmuring crowd fell silent for a moment upon hearing this.

“Twenty million a year? That’s more than what most Seoul companies pay, isn’t it?”
“Right. And since any family member can apply, I could bring my son down from Seoul and get him a job.”

The painful aftermath of the IMF crisis had reached even this distant Jeju Island.
Among those gathered here were many farmers with children who had left the island for the mainland, only to lose their jobs or struggle to find employment in an instant.
Watching their children suffer while nursing their own heartache, the prospect of losing their farmland as well had intensified their resistance.
Yet hearing Seok-won’s proposal naturally piqued their interest.
Lim Gyeong-sik himself recalled his eldest son, who had recently fathered his first grandchild—precious beyond measure—being laid off from his job and becoming unemployed.
Since his eldest son had earned 1.5 million won before the layoff, this salary was considerably higher by comparison.

“And for those who wish to continue farming, we’ll lease approximately one hundred thousand pyeong of land adjacent to the historical park so you can cultivate crops.”

At Seok-won’s offer to lease them alternative land instead, Lim Gyeong-sik’s eyes widened as he asked.

“Is that truly the case?”

Seok-won nodded with a smile playing across his face.

“Indeed. Of course, the size of the leased farmland will be considerably smaller than what you currently have, but in exchange, I will charge only half of the rental fees you’re paying now. Additionally, you will receive compensation for the recovery of the leased land, separate from these arrangements.”

As I offered substantial compensation while also providing employment to sustain their livelihoods and alternative land to continue farming if they wished, the farmers’ resistance quickly subsided.
I didn’t stop there, but took one step further, driving the final nail into the coffin.

“When we establish the Space Center, we will expand the narrow surrounding roads and construct a comprehensive 300-bed hospital equipped with state-of-the-art medical facilities in Mosulpo. This facility will be freely available not only to the Center’s staff but to all residents.”

Since the attendees were largely manual laborers and elderly individuals, the mention of a hospital being built elicited positive responses from everyone.

“We’ve been inconvenienced having only private clinics anyway. A comprehensive hospital would be wonderful.”
“We won’t have to travel all the way to Jeju City or Seogwipo. This is truly something we’ve needed.”

As the atmosphere shifted decisively in favor of the Space Center’s construction, members of a Civic Organization on one side interjected with urgent expressions.

“We must prevent the destruction of Jeju’s beautiful natural heritage through reckless development!”
“Everyone, don’t be fooled by sweet-talking promises!”
“Will you stand by and watch the basalt coastline be damaged by coastal reclamation?”

As the Civic Organization members shouted in unison and created a commotion, the Hairy Fisherman furrowed his brow and shot to his feet.

“You’ve been making a racket ever since you came in here, and it’s been grating on my ears. What business do you outsiders have interfering in our local affairs?”
“B-but Jeju Island’s natural environment….”

Seeing the stammering Civic Organization member, other residents also glared with displeasure and shouted.

“You’re not even from here! Stop stirring up trouble and get out!”
“What right do those people have to be in this briefing?”
“Get out of here right now!”

As the fishermen rolled up their sleeves, revealing their thick forearms, the Civic Organization members could no longer offer resistance and shrank back.
Standing on the podium and observing the scene, I allowed myself a deep, satisfied smile.

‘Looking at the atmosphere, it’s all settled.’

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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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