Golden Spoon Investment Portfolio - Chapter 499

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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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499. Do you really not care how much the construction costs?

Busan Yeongdo Hojin Heavy Industries Shipyard.
This was the first modern shipyard established in our country in 1937, the historic place where the nation’s first dry dock was created and where the country’s first steel vessel of 390 tons was built.
Beyond that, it was also the place where the first export ships were constructed and domestic warships, refrigerated vessels, and oil drilling ships were manufactured, achieving a succession of firsts and records, earning it the titles of South Korea’s “Shipbuilding Number One” and “Naval Architecture Academy.”
As I passed through the main gate and entered the shipyard on a cold winter day, the first thing that caught my eye was a colossal 70-meter crane capable of lifting 100 tons.
Each dock was packed with massive vessels under construction with not a single gap to spare, and cranes positioned throughout lowered building blocks the size of houses into place while workers in gray jumpsuits swarmed like ants, welding with bursts of white and orange sparks, meticulously joining every seam.
Watching enormous ships assembled like Lego blocks one by one across the expansive 80,000-pyeong shipyard, Seok-won let out an exclamation of wonder.

“I can only say it’s truly incredible.”

Yang Gyeong-seok, the robust president of Hojin Heavy Industries, standing beside me in a hard hat and gray work jacket, spoke with undisguised pride.

“What you’re looking at now is a tanker of 17,500 tons that’s about to be delivered. It has impressive dimensions—158 meters in length, 11.5 meters in height, and 26.8 meters in width—yet it can navigate the seas at an average speed of 13 knots.”

He then pointed to another vessel being actively constructed right beside it and continued his explanation.

“That one there is a membrane-type LNG carrier. Three years ago, we became the first in Asia to successfully construct one here at our shipyard, and we’ve since received orders for two more units, which we’re currently building.”

As I surveyed the shipyard operating at full capacity with not a single empty space, Seok-won’s expression grew slightly anxious.

“At a glance, the docks appear to have no vacant berths—there’s clearly a substantial workload. I’m concerned whether we can complete all the speedboats on schedule if we entrust their construction to you.”

Due to its location within the major city of Busan, the shipyard’s scale was inevitably smaller compared to the mega-shipyards on Geoje Island.
As a result, the docks where vessels were under construction were cramped with massive Goliath cranes and various equipment, packed as tightly as a crowded bus during rush hour with no spare space.
No matter how I looked at it, completing the six speedboats we’d committed to donating to the Navy while building the space center in Mosulpo seemed difficult to accomplish on schedule.
Yet President Yang Gyeong-seok, with apparent confidence, tapped his chest assuredly.

“As you can see, the docks are completely full, but not all construction work is conducted within the docks themselves. We’ve developed and implemented an innovative method where we fabricate massive mega-blocks on land, then use marine cranes capable of lifting heavier loads than land-based cranes to transport and attach them to the docks, achieving a revolutionary reduction in construction time. So you needn’t worry about meeting the construction deadline.”
“Then that’s reassuring. Hojin truly lives up to its reputation as South Korea’s Shipbuilding Number One with such technology and capability.”

At that, President Yang Gyeong-seok and the Hojin Heavy Industries personnel around him wore expressions of pride.
Afterward, as I listened to President Yang Gyeong-seok’s explanations, I slowly toured the bustling shipyard and then headed toward the Office Building on one side.

Both parties moved to a spacious Conference Room and sat facing each other across a long table.
After the Female Secretary set down warm coffee and left, President Yang Gyeong-seok, seated alongside Han Ji-sung, spoke first as he looked at me.

“Since our designation as the nation’s first defense industry company in 1974, we have constructed numerous military vessels—not only Chamsuri-class high-speed patrol boats, but also corvettes, landing ships, amphibious air-cushion vehicles, and submarines. Given this track record, I am confident that our technological capabilities and expertise in the specialized vessel sector are second to none among domestic shipyards.”

Yang Gyeong-seok continued, his voice brimming with conviction.

“If you entrust us with the construction, I promise to deliver high-speed patrol boats of the highest quality at the most competitive price.”

Such confidence, grounded in genuine accomplishments and capabilities rather than mere boasting, was always admirable to witness. I responded with a subtle smile.

“Since the prototype and all subsequent Chamsuri-class patrol boats were constructed here at Hojin Heavy Industries, I have every confidence in your work.”

From 1976 to 1993, a total of 105 Chamsuri-class high-speed patrol boats were constructed, divided between Korea Shipbuilding Corporation—the predecessor of Hojin Heavy Industries—and Korea Tacoma.
However, eight years ago, unable to sustain the accumulated deficits, Korea Tacoma filed for court receivership, which Hojin Heavy Industries subsequently acquired and merged.
Therefore, it was not inaccurate to say that all Chamsuri-class patrol boats were built at Hojin Heavy Industries.

“However, since the last construction was completed six years ago, the onboard equipment and design have become significantly outdated. Rather than simply replicating the original specifications, I would prefer some modernization.”

Yang Gyeong-seok nodded and acknowledged my point.

“The final late-model variant already incorporated considerable upgrades—modernizing equipment including Moscos satellite communications systems and replacing the bow gun with a Bofors 40mm automated single-mount cannon. However, as you rightly note, six years have passed, so further modernization would certainly be prudent.”

Yang Gyeong-seok, gauging my reaction carefully, posed his question with appropriate caution.

“That said, depending on which systems and to what extent we modernize, construction costs could increase substantially.”

Given that the figures would involve hundreds of millions of won, his cautious demeanor was entirely justified.
Yet I remained composed and unbothered.

“Naturally, I will account for any additional expenses when determining the construction fee.”

At this, Yang Gyeong-seok’s previously tense expression relaxed, and he nodded emphatically.

“In that case, the design modifications will require additional time, but we foresee no obstacles to construction on our end.”

Yang Gyeong-seok gestured toward his colleague.

“Director Gong.”
“Yes.”

Gong Sang-min, the department head overseeing the Special Vessels Division, extracted an A2-sized basic high-speed patrol boat design blueprint from a large file case and unfolded it on the conference table where I could see it clearly.
Yang Gyeong-seok, the president, spoke to me from across the table.

“This is the basic blueprint we’ve created with several improvements applied on our end.”

As I examined the blueprint carefully, Yang Gyeong-seok added his explanation.

“Specifically, we’ve installed a satellite communication system in the rear that enables direct communication with command, and we’ve secured additional fuel storage space to increase cruising range. We’ve also replaced the auxiliary armament from the 7.62mm M60 machine gun with the more powerful 12.7mm K6 medium machine gun.”

After meticulously reviewing the blueprint showing the basic layout of major equipment and the rough external shape of the hull, I lifted my head.

“It doesn’t seem much different from the late-model Chamsuri.”

Noticing my lukewarm response, Yang Gyeong-seok studied my expression before speaking.

“As I mentioned earlier, construction costs vary dramatically depending on how extensively we apply improvements, so I’ve only made modifications to the absolute essentials. If you tell me which parts you’d like changed now, I’ll have them incorporated into the design.”

I seized the opportunity and immediately laid out my thoughts.

“First, let’s upgrade the main gun from the 40mm Bofors single gun and 20mm Vulcan—which have weak firepower and require crew members to be exposed for direct fire, creating high vulnerability to hits—to an Oto Melara 76mm naval gun.”
“…!”
“And since we’ll need secondary armament for close-quarters combat, I’d like to mount 20mm Vulcans on both sides with a remote firing control system instead of the 12.7mm K6 medium machine guns. That way, the crew can fire safely from inside the ship without being exposed to the outside, which will significantly improve survivability in actual combat.”

Bewilderment spread across the faces of Yang Gyeong-seok and the other Hojin Heavy Industries personnel, but I continued undeterred.

“I’d also like to add thick armor plating to the entire hull as protection against hits, convert the bridge—which is completely exposed and vulnerable to attack—into an enclosed structure, and replace the windscreen with bulletproof glass that can withstand gunfire.”

At that moment, Gong Sang-min interjected with a troubled expression, unable to listen further.

“If we do everything you’re suggesting, the firepower would certainly improve, but it’s impossible to fit it all on such a small Chamsuri-class hull that only displaces 147 tons.”
“Then we’ll just have to increase the hull size.”
“…Pardon?”

The answer came so casually that I momentarily delayed my response.
Once Gong Sang-min grasped my meaning, he asked in startled surprise.

“Y-you mean to enlarge the hull?”
“Yes. Around 300 tons should do it.”

Gong Sang-min, the Department Head, opened his eyes wide as if he’d heard something absurd.

“You’re saying we should increase the displacement by 150 tons?”

Yang Gyeong-seok, the president listening to this, couldn’t hide his bewildered expression either.
But Seok-won didn’t stop there—he continued pointing to various sections of the design blueprint, laying out everything he’d been thinking.

“Since the hull is getting larger, we’ll need to install an engine with higher output, and to efficiently control and operate the armaments, naturally we’ll have to replace all the surface-to-air and anti-aircraft fire control radars with the latest models.”

Yang Gyeong-seok and the personnel from Hojin Heavy Industries, who had been anticipating only minor improvements, stood slack-jawed at proposals that far exceeded their expectations.

“And don’t forget—we’ll construct four-person cabins with fixed beds to accommodate the crew complement, install a separate galley, and set up a large desalination unit to convert seawater to fresh water, all to improve the working environment.”

Due to the aging hull’s cramped quarters, sailors had to sleep in wall-mounted bunk beds stacked vertically, and with no desalination unit at all, they couldn’t properly wash when at sea and had to drink pre-loaded bottled water for drinking water.
No matter that it was an aging fast attack craft originally designed in 1976, the working conditions were absolutely abysmal.

‘Beyond the fact that they have to risk their lives on the front lines right in front of the NLL, the reason naval sailors avoid fast attack craft duty alongside submarines is precisely because of these terrible working conditions.’

I wanted to create an environment that was at least safer and more comfortable for the fast attack craft crews who sacrificed their precious youth for country and family, standing watch over the rough seas day and night.

‘Frankly, it’s not like we lack the funds—what’s stopping us?’

As Seok-won was thinking this, Yang Gyeong-seok, who had been half-dazed, finally came to his senses and wore an awkward expression.

“If we proceed as you’ve just described, this isn’t an improvement—it’s building an entirely different vessel.”

Seok-won nodded his head in front of the hesitant Yang Gyeong-seok.

“That’s exactly what I want. With the new millennium right around the corner, wouldn’t it be foolish to rebuild an obsolete fast attack craft designed 23 years ago right now?”
“That may be true, but… this could double the construction costs, or even more.”

But Seok-won answered in a serious voice instead.

“I don’t care. Even if it costs three times as much, it’s fine—build me a warship that can overwhelmingly defeat the enemy in combat and protect the lives of the crew.”
“Well… this is something.”

At words filled with genuine sincerity rather than mere pretense, Yang Gyeong-seok, who had been flustered, soon straightened his posture.

“So you truly don’t care how much the construction costs will be.”
“That’s right.”

At my unhesitating response, Yang Gyeong-seok nodded as well.

“Excellent. Then I shall proceed to build you the new high-speed patrol vessel as you desire.”

Seeing the unwavering resolve in Yang Gyeong-seok’s eyes, I felt satisfied with the outcome.
I believed this would be enough to prevent the young naval personnel from being senselessly sacrificed in the confrontation with North Korea that would unfold in the waters near Yeonpyeong Island three years from now.

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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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