Free Web NovelWhen South Korea was entering the full-scale race for the National Assembly elections, Russia was holding Putin’s presidential inauguration.
Yeltsin’s early resignation had moved the presidential election up to June.
Having engraved a strong image in the minds of the public during the Second Chechen War, Putin won the presidency outright with support from more than half the electorate, without even needing a runoff.
On the surface, it might have looked like an easy victory for Putin, but beneath it all there had been a fierce, behind-the-scenes struggle among the oligarchs.
Berezovsky’s candidate Putin had gone head-to-head with Gusinsky’s favored man, Zyuganov, and the result was Zyuganov’s defeat.
Yet Gusinsky paid no mind and continued broadcasting programs critical of Putin through his own television network.
“It’s been a while, President Kim.”
As soon as I arrived at Moscow Airport for Putin’s inauguration, Medvedev welcomed me.
“Professor, it’s been a while. You came in person?”
“Haha, it’s been ages since I left academia.”
Medvedev waved his hand with an awkward smile.
“Ah, I heard you resigned your professorship to serve as head of the election countermeasures committee.”
“That’s in the past. Now that Putin’s been elected, I’ll be returning to private ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) life.”
“What do you mean? You’ll have to stay by President Putin’s side and assist him from now on.”
It was a small exchange, but I could sense that, despite being at the center of power, Medvedev still carried himself with a down-to-earth character.
At the airport exit, my security team and a security detail from the Russian police stood on either side.
Escorted by them, I got into the same car as Medvedev, whose secretary in the passenger seat briefed me on the schedule.
“The presidential inauguration will be held tomorrow at noon.”
When I adjusted my watch to Russian time, it was already evening.
I hadn’t been hungry before, but now that I realized the time, my stomach began to feel empty, so I casually asked Medvedev,
“If you’re not too busy, would you care to have a meal together?”
“Oh, certainly! I know a great restaurant. Let’s go there.”
The car carrying Medvedev and me slowly entered the heart of Moscow.
“So, what will you do now, Medvedev? As you said earlier, do you intend to return to private life?”
“Well... I’ll likely return as Deputy Chief of Staff. It seems I’ll also serve concurrently as Vice President of Gazprom.”
So history doesn’t change after all.
Putin was preparing to remove Gusinsky by appointing Medvedev and his own confidants to Gazprom’s board of directors.
“Congratulations, Deputy Chief. I can call you that now, right?”
“Thank you. It’s a position far greater than I deserve.”
“Doesn’t it simply mean you’ve earned President Putin’s trust?”
At the mention of trust, Medvedev lowered his eyes in thought.
“I’m not so sure. Even now, I’m already facing checks and pressure — from the KGB and military circles.”
Putin was preparing to reshuffle the key posts in the Kremlin that had been dominated by the oligarchs.
And by leveraging his own background as a former KGB officer and FSB director, he was calling in a large number of military and intelligence figures into central politics as soon as he was elected.
The rise of an elite group known as the siloviki.
“If you have President Putin’s trust, no amount of pushback will get anywhere, will it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve known Putin for a long time, but it’s always hard to read what’s truly on his mind.”
Just as Medvedev said, Putin might appear to speak his mind openly, but it was never easy to tell whether it was his true feelings.
Whether it was his nature or the result of his KGB training, he was exceptionally skilled at hiding himself.
Soon, the car stopped in front of a restaurant.
“Let’s go in, President Kim.”
When we entered the restaurant, there were no customers at all.
It seemed they had contacted the place in advance and cleared out everyone else.
“I wanted to have a quiet conversation over dinner.”
As if prepared ahead of time, the food was served the moment we sat down.
Except for Chief Ma and Medvedev’s secretary, everyone else was sent outside.
The restaurant became quiet enough for any secret to be spoken without fear.
“Have a drink.”
With an affable smile, Medvedev poured me wine.
As I watched the deep red liquid slowly fill the glass, Medvedev suddenly asked,
“What do you think about Russia’s future, President Kim?”
“The future?”
I had a good idea what prompted that question.
Medvedev muttered self-deprecatingly.
“I can’t see a future for Russia. Putin may have become president, but the power of the oligarchs is too strong.”
His expression suggested he was speaking sincerely, though with some discomfort.
And no wonder — it’s not something easy to admit.
“Putin won’t become their puppet, but removing them would cause too much economic damage.”
With that, Medvedev raised his glass toward me.
We clinked glasses lightly and took a sip.
Despite the weight of the conversation, the wine slid smoothly down my throat.
“He’ll probably go after Gusinsky first. The whole scenario is likely already laid out.”
Medvedev’s eyes widened as he drank his wine.
“The oligarchs probably think of Putin as a greenhorn. They won’t even be tense about it. They believe he’s their president, so they’ll be letting their guard down.”
Berezovsky, unaware of Putin’s ambitions, would be toasting right now.
“Putin is not the sort to be content as anyone’s puppet. A clash with the oligarchs is inevitable... That’s why he’s calling the military and intelligence figures into the Kremlin, isn’t it?”
By now, Medvedev had set down his glass and was quietly watching me savor my wine.
I put my own glass down and smiled.
“Unlike him, you’re worried that those military and intelligence figures will end up taking the oligarchs’ place, aren’t you?”
“...President Kim, you could make a career in politics instead of business. I can see why Putin likes you. It’s frightening.”
I already knew Putin was pleased with me, but hearing it from Medvedev somehow made it feel even better.
“You flatter me. Anyone with an interest in Russia could guess as much.”
“No, most might guess, but few could read it this accurately. Right now, no one expects the oligarchs and Putin to end up fighting.”
Medvedev placed his hands on the table and laced his fingers together.
Fiddling with his clasped hands as though uneasy, he went on.
“After all, it was with the oligarchs’ support that Putin became president — with a few exceptions, like Gusinsky.”
To remove the oligarchs would be to destroy Putin’s own political base, which was why no one anticipated such a move.
Berezovsky was likely screaming in delight at the thought of swallowing up Gusinsky’s companies, and the other oligarchs who had backed Putin were no doubt preparing to divvy up the scraps.
“Deputy Chief, if you want to survive, give up your ambitions. I know you think of Putin as a friend.”
But Putin was a cold man.
He wouldn’t show leniency just because Medvedev was his friend.
“A father and son do not share power. Keep your head down and focus only on what Putin assigns to you.” freēwēbηovel.c૦m
“...”
“You, more than anyone, know that he’s not the kind to give special treatment to a friend. The life of the second-in-command is always a brutal one.”
“Second-in-command...”
Whether he had wanted it or not, he had become the number two in Putin’s regime.
That might be exactly why his mind was even more troubled.
“From below, you face the checks of the envious; from above, you bear the suspicion of the ruler. Throughout all of history, in the East or West, remember how the lives of those recorded as the second-in-command ended.”
The ending was always death.
The time when the number two could secure a place in the history books was the age of monarchies.
The present might be different, but in terms of power, a dictatorship was no different from a monarchy.
And Putin’s Russia was a return to the past.
“Hey, go upstairs and bring some vodka!”
Pressing a hand to his forehead, Medvedev spoke to the secretary standing at his side.
Filling his glass to the brim with vodka instead of wine, Medvedev downed it in one go.
“Ha... President Kim, please understand. Wine just doesn’t cut it for me. My apologies.”
“Think nothing of it. The Russian love for vodka is well known.”
I gave a small smile at the sight of him looking far more spirited than when drinking wine.
Pouring himself another small glass of vodka, Medvedev spoke again.
“You’re right, President Kim. They frighten me. Gorbachev’s purge managed to weaken the KGB’s power only with great effort, but if they return to the center of Moscow, we may regress to the past.”
“Are you worried about Russia, or are you worried about your own safety?”
Before the regression, Medvedev’s actions had shown he was more concerned about his personal safety than anything else.
But the Medvedev before me now seemed almost like an intellectual brooding over Russia’s future.
“I don’t know. I’m not even sure myself if I’m more worried about my safety or about my country.”
With a bitter smile, Medvedev drank his vodka again.
There was something faintly pitiable in the sight of him carrying such heavy concerns.
“Drink slowly, Deputy Chief.”
“This much doesn’t even register on my liver. Will you have one as well, President Kim?”
“I’ll stick with this.”
I raised my wine glass and gave it a swirl with a smile.
Medvedev, laughing in turn, quickly refilled his empty vodka glass.
After a few exchanges of drinks, he suddenly seemed to recall something.
“Deputy Chief, do you need my help?”
“Your help... I think it would have the opposite effect. Putin is no saint who would stand by while one of his people supports another.”
The smile vanished from Medvedev’s face in an instant.
“Then what would you like me to do?”
“Tell me this—do you think Russia has a future? I want to hear your thoughts, and also your advice on what I should do.”
I nodded slowly.
“I think Russia’s future is bright. It was a nation that, for half a century, shared domination of the world with the United States. That kind of potential doesn’t just disappear. It may be in an economic crisis now, but with abundant natural resources and human talent, it will rise again.”
Medvedev gave a faint smile.
I knew well enough this wasn’t the kind of answer he wanted to hear.
“Deputy Chief, focus on your vice presidency at Gazprom rather than politics. Step back from political infighting and show Putin you have no intention of becoming an enemy.”
“...Gazprom, huh.”
“Putin’s election to the presidency won’t make all power flow to him immediately.”
But Putin would be preparing, step by step, to become not merely a president but the true tsar of Russia.
“In the end, you need enough money not to have to bow to the oligarchs. The way to secure that is through Gazprom and other Russian state-owned enterprises.”
“Yeltsin handed Gazprom and many other state enterprises over to the oligarchs under the guise of privatization. Taking them back won’t be easy.”
There’s nothing less believable than false modesty from a capable man.
Resting my chin on my hand, I looked at him with interest.
“It’s not easy, true. But it’s not impossible either, is it? I’d wager the plan to take control of the board has already been drawn up.”
“...Is that just speculation?”
“I only asked myself what I would do if I were President Putin. In my place, I’d use Gazprom to steadily re-nationalize the companies the oligarchs took.”
I casually laid out Putin’s plan as if reading it off a script.
Power comes from money. Putin would know that well.
“Outwardly, they’d still appear to be private companies, but the Russian government would hold control. The best way to weaken the oligarchs is to take their money away.”
Putin and the siloviki rising as Russia’s new core had started with the plan to seize Gazprom.
Once they held Gazprom, they used it to acquire privatized companies.
It became a boomerang that triggered Gazprom’s insolvency, but such concerns meant nothing to Putin.
In the end, the oligarchs who survived had no choice but to watch Putin’s mood.
“If you want to change Russia, aim to become Putin’s successor. Bow, deceive, and humble yourself completely. Only then will you earn Putin’s trust.”
When I recited the method Putin himself had used, Medvedev’s expression grew complicated, and he drank his vodka in silence.
“That’s all the advice I can give. The choice is yours, Medvedev.”
He had asked for words rather than help, so this was all the answer I could give. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓
I could neither press him nor force his decision.
“Having Gazprom is the same as having Russia. That’s how I see it. Now then, we should get going. I imagine tomorrow will be busy from the morning.”
“Ah, I’ve taken up too much of your time.”
“Not at all. It’s been a productive evening, Deputy Chief.”
I exaggerated my words on purpose to ease his embarrassment.
“Thank you for listening to my trivial complaints. Forget them, please, haha.”
“Yes. I won’t speak of today’s conversation to anyone. Then, I’ll take my leave.”
I rose from my seat and extended my hand for a handshake.
Medvedev also stood and grasped my hand, his grip firm.
Leaving the restaurant, I headed straight to my residence in Moscow.
Even after the large front gate opened, we had to drive further before arriving in front of the mansion.
When the car stopped, Igor was there to open the door for me with a warm greeting.
“Boss, it’s been a while.”
“Igor, have you been well?”
Getting out of the car, I looked around and saw many changes.
“How is it, Boss?”
“I like it. You’ve worked hard.”
The main building where I would be staying was decorated with furnishings and interiors worthy of a European noble, entirely to my liking.
“Tell everyone to get plenty of rest since we have an early start tomorrow. Chief Ma, get a feel for the local mood and report to me by tomorrow.”
“Yes, Boss.”
And so, my first night staying at my Russian residence passed quietly.
The next day, I departed for the Kremlin, where the inauguration ceremony of Russia’s new president, Putin, would take place.
