Golden Spoon Investment Portfolio - Chapter 496

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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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496. Finally, Minguk Life is being put on the market.

In the spacious Chairman’s Office, I sat on the sofa with one leg crossed, while Jung Gyu-chul, president of Blue Hole Construction, and Dr. Choi Tae-ho, president of Blue Sky, occupied seats on either side of me.

“Ever since you personally attended the briefing session and persuaded the residents, the atmosphere in the local community has undergone a complete transformation. Thanks to your efforts, we’ve secured consent for the space center construction from over 90% of residents, and the acquisition of private land is proceeding smoothly.”
“What about the civic organizations?”

In response to my question, Jung Gyu-chul smiled broadly, flashing his teeth.

“Even after the briefing, they continue to stage occasional protests, citing concerns about resident safety and environmental destruction. However, since the local residents have completely turned against them, they’re failing to gain any meaningful support.”

He then spoke with an expression of satisfaction.

“In fact, the moment they show any sign of staging a protest, the residents grow angry and chase them away. They haven’t even dared to set foot in Mosulpo lately.”

Hearing this, I smiled as well.

“If the civic organizations had continued to obstruct us, the project would have been significantly delayed. It’s fortunate that the residents are preventing them from interfering.”
“This is all thanks to you, Chairman. Your bold proposals at the briefing won over the residents’ support. If you’re offering to lease farmland, establish a comprehensive hospital—a long-standing wish of the community—and create quality jobs, I’d support the space center construction myself.”

Dr. Choi Tae-ho, seated across from us, also agreed with Jung Gyu-chul’s assessment.

“I was genuinely surprised when I heard about it. Now I finally understand why you were so confident from the start that we could overcome the residents’ opposition.”

As he looked at me with admiration, I took a sip of coffee from my cup and responded calmly, as if it were nothing special.

“Time is money, as they say. To launch our first space rocket according to our planned schedule, establishing the space center is absolutely essential. If investing money allows us to accelerate the project, that’s far more advantageous in the long run.”

Jung Gyu-chul laughed and shook his head, as if unsure what to say.

“We’ve had to inject over 300 billion won in additional investment for persuading the residents—establishing the comprehensive hospital, expanding roads, and purchasing farmland. I suspect only you, Chairman, could view such an enormous sum so casually.”

Dr. Choi Tae-ho looked at me with the same sentiment.
Receiving their gazes, I smiled lightly and smoothly changed the subject with a calm tone.

“By the way, how did things go with the United States trip?”

In response to Seok-won’s question, Dr. Choi Tae-ho straightened in his seat and answered.

“During my time at NASA, I maintained contact with former and current employees I knew there. Through those connections, I was able to scout approximately thirty talented professionals specializing in launch control and engineering.”

Upon hearing this, Seok-won’s expression shifted slightly, betraying surprise.

“I understand about the retirees, but surely working at NASA would offer better treatment and advantages in many respects compared to Korea. It’s fortunate that so many accepted the scouting offers, yet it’s still unexpected.”
“Normally, as you say, recruiting would have been far more difficult, but we were fortunate.”
“What do you mean by that?”

Seok-won tilted his head inquisitively.

“You’re aware, I’m sure, that the Sputnik Crisis was what prompted the United States to establish NASA and earnestly enter the space race.”
“Of course.”

When the Soviet Union, Russia’s predecessor, successfully launched Sputnik 1—humanity’s first artificial satellite—before the United States, the American government, scientific community, and citizens alike were profoundly shocked. This event became known as the Sputnik Crisis.
While the world remained starkly divided between capitalist and communist blocs in fierce ideological confrontation, America had assumed itself far superior in cutting-edge science and technology, regarding the Soviet Union with subtle disdain.
Then, on October 4th, 1957, the Soviets announced their successful launch of Sputnik 1—a revelation that sent shockwaves through the nation.

“Even when the Soviets claimed to have developed intercontinental ballistic missiles armed with hydrogen bombs—weapons more powerful than nuclear arms—the United States and Western nations dismissed it as mere bluster. Only when the Soviets actually launched the world’s first artificial satellite did genuine crisis and fear take hold.”
“Precisely. Space launch vehicles and intercontinental ballistic missiles are essentially identical. Successfully launching a satellite meant the Soviets could potentially fire nuclear-armed missiles across continents directly at America.”
“And that’s why NASA was born a year later as a presidential agency, created to catch up in space development.”

I had noticed it before, but Seok-won possessed remarkably comprehensive knowledge of space development.
Dr. Choi Tae-ho continued, inwardly impressed by this fact.

“After NASA’s establishment came America’s first human spaceflight program, Mercury, followed by the Apollo program to send humans to the moon. The United States poured staggering resources into fierce space competition with the Soviet Union.”

A decade after the Sputnik Crisis, in 1969, America achieved a remarkable triumph through Apollo 11, leaving humanity’s first footprints on the previously unexplored lunar surface.

“Despite achieving tremendous accomplishments and remarkable technological advances, the end of the Cold War brought military budget cuts, and NASA itself could not escape the blade of massive budget reductions. The atmosphere has become severely depressed.”

Previously, the Cold War had served as a shield, allowing endless funding to flow. Now, however, the era of tightening belts had arrived.
Dr. Choi Tae-ho spoke with a bitter expression.

“I discovered that a considerable number of planned projects were cancelled, and many of the personnel working there have been laid off or face uncertainty about their continued employment.”

At this, Seok-won’s eyes brightened with interest, and he straightened his posture on the sofa.

“I knew NASA was downsizing, but I didn’t expect they’d be laying off their core talent like this.”
“No matter how skilled or respected an engineer is, when the project they’re assigned to gets canceled and disappears, they can’t simply stay on, can they? And I hear the newly appointed NASA director has made things even more difficult by pushing the motto ‘faster, better, cheaper’ and personally cutting necessary budgets.”

Dr. Choi Tae-ho shrugged and relayed the situation exactly as he’d witnessed and heard it.

“From NASA’s perspective, it must be a disheartening and tragic situation, but it’s a golden opportunity to recruit well-trained, exceptional talent.”

At that, Dr. Choi Tae-ho leaned forward eagerly as if he’d been waiting for this moment.

“I believe there are too many talented individuals to let slip away, so I’d like to push ourselves a bit and recruit as many as possible during this opportunity.”

Dr. Choi Tae-ho glanced sideways, gauging Seok-won’s reaction.
If he was eager enough to covet them, they were certainly exceptional senior-level talent, which meant substantial investment would be required for recruitment—so he needed Seok-won’s approval, as he held the purse strings.
Seok-won raised one hand and stroked his cleanly shaved chin as he asked.

“If we increase the number of scouts we’re bringing from the United States, our operating costs will exceed the plan, won’t they?”

Dr. Choi Tae-ho answered promptly.

“As you point out, we can’t avoid increased operating costs. However, considering the tangible and intangible benefits we can gain by recruiting talent with abundant field experience and proven capabilities, I’m confident this is absolutely necessary.”
“You’re right—as I’ve already felt through working with the Russian technicians, the know-how that comes from a seasoned veteran’s long experience can’t be bought with money.”
“Exactly. Especially for a startup like us that’s only just taking its first steps into space development, recruiting skilled and exceptional talent who can pass on accumulated experience and technology will directly determine our project’s success.”

Dr. Choi Tae-ho stepped forward actively to persuade him.

“Hmm.”

Seok-won tapped lightly on the sofa’s armrest with his fingertips, lost in thought for a moment.
Dr. Choi Tae-ho watched him anxiously, his heart racing.
Without deliberating long, he soon reached a decision and lifted his head to speak.

“As you say, fortune has smiled on us and created this golden opportunity to recruit exceptional talent—we can’t simply let it slip away.”
“Then….”
“I’ll provide whatever budget you need. Don’t worry about money—bring in all the talent you think is necessary.”

Dr. Choi Tae-ho, who had been anxiously worried that budget concerns might lead to rejection, was delighted at the instruction to freely scout the talent he needed.

“Thank you so much!”

Dr. Choi Tae-ho bowed deeply at a ninety-degree angle, and I smiled as I spoke to him.

“Above all, making the project succeed is the priority, so if you feel you need anything going forward, don’t hesitate to tell me about it.”
“Understood.”

The budget had ballooned significantly compared to the initial plan—we’d purchased additional land for the space center and the costs for persuading residents had grown substantially—but I wasn’t worried in the slightest. In two years, the jackpot that would unfold would be so enormous that we’d recoup every penny spent and then some.
After continuing our conversation for a while longer, Jung Gyu-chul and Dr. Choi Tae-ho concluded the meeting and rose from their seats.
Once the Female Secretary cleared away the teacups from the table and left, it wasn’t long before a gentle knock sounded at the door, and Han Ji-sung entered.
He approached my spacious desk and carefully set down the envelope of documents he’d brought, speaking as he did.

“This came from Songsan Trading Company.”

Songsan Trading Company was a private intelligence firm that Lee Chul-gyun, a former police intelligence officer, operated for me.
I tore open the sealed envelope and extracted its contents—a thin, neatly bound booklet.
Seeing me open the booklet, Han Ji-sung bowed respectfully.

“Then I’ll take my leave.”
“Ah, wait a moment.”
“Yes.”

Han Ji-sung turned to go but stopped himself and straightened up again.

“Is there something you’d like me to do?”

Instead of answering, I opened the desk drawer and pulled out a white envelope I’d kept inside, sliding it across the desk toward him.

“Take it.”

Han Ji-sung accepted the envelope with a bewildered expression, and I continued.

“It’s a promotion bonus.”
“I’m sorry?”

Han Ji-sung blinked, his voice uncertain.

“The announcement will be made at the regular personnel reshuffle next week, but I wanted to tell you personally first. Congratulations on your promotion to Manager.”

Caught off guard by the sudden news, Han Ji-sung soon broke into a smile and bowed deeply.

“Thank you.”
“From now on, I’ll need to call you Han Deputy. I hope you’ll continue to handle your responsibilities as well as you have been.”
“Yes. I will do my utmost to serve you with sincerity and dedication, Chairman.”

Han Ji-sung had always been the kind of person who worked quietly in the shadows, anticipating needs and handling matters without being asked.
Since he’d begun serving as my executive secretary, I’d felt a marked improvement in my workload, so I had no hesitation in acknowledging his competence.
I nodded with satisfaction.

“You may go now.”
“Yes, sir.”

Han Ji-sung, his expression faintly flushed with excitement, bowed more formally than usual before straightening and turning to leave.
As the door closed, I picked up the document I’d set aside on my desk and slowly reviewed its contents.
Then my eyes sharpened as I discovered something significant.

[While Haecheon Group Chairman Shim In-yeol’s lawsuit at Seoul Administrative Court challenging the cancellation of Minguk Life shares and the Financial Supervisory Commission’s operational normalization disposition remains ongoing, the FSC is set to forcibly proceed with competitive bidding for the sale of Minguk Life within the first half of the year….]

“At last, Minguk Life comes to market.”

At news of the asset I’d been waiting for finally appearing on the market, I smiled darkly like a predator with prey within reach.

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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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