Free Web Novel“I plan to limit the political participation of the oligarchs.”
Yeah, that much I had expected.
In the original timeline, Putin left alone only those who followed him. The rest had their assets seized, were exiled, or thrown in prison.
“But their influence is far-reaching. Honestly speaking, their money is absolute. At least for now.”
Putin trailed off meaningfully, then took a sip of the black tea in front of him.
“But then, one day, as if you’d been waiting, you appeared in front of me. I won’t ask how you know about me. However, the coffee you left behind was a bit excessive.”
The anonymous bond I left for Putin as “coffee money” during our first meeting was worth ten million dollars.
His eyes were gleaming now.
“I still don’t know exactly how much wealth you have. Just that you’re the owner of Dreamhigh in the U.S. and that you likely hold several shell companies. So what is it that you want from me?”
“What I want... I said I wanted to become friends.”
“Let’s be honest with each other. That’s the only way we can become friends, isn’t it?”
It was Putin’s trademark bluntness.
The same demeanor I’d seen countless times in the media. For some reason, it made me chuckle.
“Money means nothing in the face of political power. Even you, Prime Minister, are planning to restrict the oligarchs’ political influence once you seize power and tighten their leash.”
Putin nodded.
“But I don’t want to have to read the political winds. More precisely, I don’t want to be beholden to anyone.”
“And I’m the person you’ve chosen for that?”
I shook my head.
“It’s not about choosing. I just want to be part of your future.”
Putin looked troubled, as if in deep thought.
“What can you offer me?”
“Invest in me. I’ll grow your wealth legally. And of course, no one but me will know that it’s your money.”
“...”
“No matter how much support I give, do you think you can rise to the presidency without any help from the oligarchs? Public support is just a hollow bubble. If you want to break free from Chubais and Berezovsky’s influence, you need to secure the presidency first.”
“President Yeltsin will soon announce his resignation due to health issues. I’ll act as interim president and take on the real duties.”
“Congratulations. But the real victory is winning next year’s election. You’ll need to defeat Gennady Zyuganov of the Russian Communist Party to make that happen.”
After his crushing defeat to Yeltsin in the 1996 presidential race, Zyuganov suffered a major political blow. But during the national moratorium crisis, he regained public support by invoking nostalgia for the Soviet Union. He even allied with Prime Minister Primakov to pursue Yeltsin’s impeachment—though it failed.
“So what should I do?”
“First, don’t antagonize the oligarchs. For now, use their money and media. Give the Russian people what they want.”
“What they want?”
“A strong Russia, like the Soviet Union. That’s the fastest way to earn the people’s support. Even if you purge the oligarchs after winning, it won’t be too late.”
“A strong Russia, huh.”
If you had to describe Putin’s Russia in one phrase, it would be exactly that: “A strong Russia.”
“Strike Chechnya. That’s how you can leave a powerful impression on the people.”
The First Chechen War had ended in what was essentially a Russian defeat.
Yeltsin had to sign a humiliating peace deal, and during the war, he faced threats of economic sanctions from Western European nations.
For Russians, it was nothing but disgrace.
“Would the public accept a war without cause?”
So far, since the peace treaty, Chechnya hadn’t acted provocatively.
“Just create a cause. Like, say... a bomb going off in Moscow.”
Justification is important.
But it could be manufactured.
That was the logic of world powers. The U.S. did it. So did Russia.
And Putin, an ex-KGB agent, didn’t need me to spell it out. He would do it on his own.
“Haha, Mr. Kim, are you a businessman or a politician?”
Putin burst into a hearty laugh.
“We think alike. I’ve also been considering attacking Chechnya. As for entrusting you with my assets—fine by me.”
“I’ll establish an asset management company in Hong Kong. We don’t usually manage other people’s money. But for you, I’ll make an exception.”
“Not yet. First, I need to win the election.”
“Of course. Just let me know when. I’ll wait.”
Putin glanced at the clock on the wall and chuckled.
“Time flies. Let’s have another good conversation next time.”
“Yes, Prime Minister.”
Putin stood up from his seat and extended his hand.
I took it.
“Oh! And be careful. The European aristocrats and the Jews are watching you. They haven’t moved yet because you’re not a real threat—but when you are, they’ll crush you, one way or another.”
“...Excuse me?”
So that was the message he’d wanted to deliver.
The unexpected remark caught me off guard. I tried to ask again, but Putin said nothing more.
“See you next time.”
In the end, I couldn’t ask any more. Medvedev guided me out of the hall.
“I’ll take my leave.”
Medvedev saw me out to the end, then returned inside. Chief Ma and Igor approached.
“Boss.”
“Let’s go back to the villa.”
Just before getting into the car, I looked back up at Putin’s room.
Through the window, I saw him watching me.
As the car slowly pulled away toward the villa, I fell into thought.
‘European aristocrats?’ freewebnøvel.coɱ
Were there still aristocrats left in Europe?
The Jews, I understood. But aristocrats?
“Boss.”
Chief Ma called me.
He must’ve had more news.
“Wen Jiabao contacted us.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked to meet tomorrow. Said it would be beneficial for both sides.”
“Beneficial for both sides,” huh.
I scoffed.
“Set the meeting. If he’s behind Mei Hong, I want to see him at least once.”
The next day, I headed to the hotel where Wen Jiabao was staying.
He was already there, waiting with a smiling face.
“I was quite shocked yesterday. The Prime Minister’s friend...”
“Medvedev exaggerated.”
“Well, I do know Professor Medvedev a bit, and exaggerating isn’t really in his nature.”
“Let’s move on. How do you know Mei Hong?”
“I’ll take care of him for you. Let’s join hands.”
Now that was unexpected.
“Join hands? And what would I get from that?”
“Well, wouldn’t there be something?”
I stared coldly at the grinning Wen Jiabao.
“Are you joking? I’ll kill Mei Hong someday. So I don’t see any reason to partner with you.”
“I’m not sure what misunderstanding there is, but I’m not behind Mei Hong.”
“...”
Chinese political factions.
The Shanghai Clique, the Princelings, and the Communist Youth League faction.
Wen Jiabao belonged to none of them.
With a serious face, he added: ƒrēewebnovel.com
“Mei Hong is managing money for Wang Gang and receiving his support. Wang Gang currently serves as # Nоvеlight # Director of the General Office.”
Director of the General Office?
So the backer was even higher up than expected.
Basically the Chief of Staff to the General Secretary of the Communist Party.
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to manage my family’s money.”
“Manage your money?”
“Yes.”
Wen Jiabao’s blunt request left me momentarily speechless.
I couldn’t read him.
When I didn’t respond, he shrugged.
“I have many enemies. It’s inevitable, since I don’t belong to any of the three major Communist factions.”
In the future, Wen Jiabao would be praised as an incorruptible official. But here he was, asking me to manage his money.
‘Fucking Chinese bastards always have a different face on the inside.’
I scoffed internally.
“Why me?”
“I didn’t know at first. But while investigating Wang Gang, your name came up, Mr. Kim. So I dug deeper. You’ve done some interesting things.”
He smiled warmly as he continued.
“Who else would do all that just for their subordinate? That’s what piqued my interest.”
“Can you trust me?”
You're saying you’d entrust someone like me with money that could become a weakness?
“I don’t trust you. But I believe you don’t care about Chinese politics. That’s why I’d rather entrust you than the triads. Of course, the fact that you own Peregrine in Hong Kong also played a big role.”
Is that really all?
“When you say you’ll take care of Mei Hong—do you mean you’ll have him killed?”
“No. You do it yourself. Wang Gang and I will reach an agreement. And the Hong Kong authorities won’t interfere. What do you think?”
It wasn’t a bad offer for me either, but...
You just can’t trust Chinese bastards.
I didn’t reply. Wen Jiabao smiled even wider.
“I could do it myself, but I doubt that’s what you want. Besides, you already know where Mei Hong is, don’t you?”
He was right.
Ever since I brought Eva back, I’d ordered Eric to keep tabs on Mei Hong.
One Black Bear team was still in Hong Kong, tracking him—and Wen Jiabao knew that.
“Fine. I’ll kill Mei Hong. But my people will need to get him out of Hong Kong with no interference.”
“Understood. I’ll contact you once I return to mainland China.”
“We’ll talk again after Mei Hong’s been dealt with.”
I ended the conversation and rose from my seat.
Wen Jiabao stood and extended his hand first.
“I’ll be visiting Korea soon. We can talk more then.”
We shook hands, and I left his hotel.
In the car, I gave an immediate order to Igor.
“Contact Eric.”
“Yes, Boss.”
By the time we arrived at the villa, I was connected to Eric.
— Yes, Boss.
“I’ll send a private jet to Hong Kong. Get ready to abduct him and bring him to Korea. You know his location, right?”
— Abduct him, sir?
“Yes. I’m in talks with the Chinese Communist Party. Just wait for the order, then bring him in.”
— I’ll pass the message along.
“You’re confident, right?”
— Of course. As long as the Hong Kong government doesn’t interfere, there’ll be no problem.
“I’ll trust you.”
I couldn’t help but smile at Eric’s confident voice.
The call ended.
Outside the window, the crimson sunset deepened—as if foreshadowing Mei Hong’s fate.
The next day, I received an invitation to a party hosted by Berezovsky and the oligarchs.
The estate where the party was held was state-owned by the Russian government—an indicator of Berezovsky’s enormous power.
By the time I entered the garden, the place was already buzzing.
An orchestra played classical music in one corner. Well-dressed guests quietly circulated with drinks in hand.
I guess attending Putin’s inauguration party helped me get used to this kind of scene.
“Oh, Mr. Kim! Welcome!”
Berezovsky spotted me entering the garden and came over with a smile.
“Chairman, it’s been a while.”
I expected a handshake, but Berezovsky pulled me into a tight embrace.
“I was too busy yesterday to greet you properly. Tonight, enjoy yourself.”
“Yes.”
Looking around, the atmosphere was nearly identical to the previous night.
High-ranking officials, politicians, oligarchs—the people who moved Russia were all here.
Next to Berezovsky stood the man often called “Chelsea’s father,” Roman Abramovich.
“Roman, come say hello. This is Mr. Kim Muhyuk from Korea.”
“Ah, so this is the man the Chairman kept talking about? A pleasure to meet you. I’m Roman Abramovich. Please, just call me Roman.”
He smiled as he introduced himself.
But I knew well what was behind that mask.
Roman used to peddle cigarettes and jeans on the black market. Berezovsky had taken a liking to him, introduced him to Yeltsin’s inner circle, and brought him into the privatization of Sibneft—making him a billionaire.
But Roman would later become the one to lead the charge in taking Berezovsky down.
“Nice to meet you, Roman.”
