Free Web NovelOn the way to the Kremlin, I received a report from Chief Ma on the instructions I had given yesterday.
“Campaigning starts today, right? How’s the mood in Korea?”
“No major changes. I heard Candidate Lee Myungsoo and Yoon Changho met alone yesterday, but I couldn’t find out what they discussed.”
Since Lee Myungsoo was running in a local district and not as a proportional representative, I figured he had probably been whining.
I replied indifferently—it was obvious enough that I didn’t need to hear it.
“Well, Yoon Changho must have been asking for favors. You’ve prepared a separate team to manage the districts where Yoon Changho and Lee Myungsoo are running, right?”
“Yes, we’re ready.”
We had already secured dirt on their opposing candidates.
In Gangnam A and Jongno, Lee Myungsoo and Yoon Changho were leading in the polls.
But elections always bring surprises.
If any unexpected developments occurred, we planned to leak those opponents’ weaknesses immediately.
As for Yoon Changho and Lee Myungsoo themselves, I refrained from making direct smear attacks, instead insisting they run on policy-based campaigns. frёeωebɳovel.com
For Yoon Changho, projecting a dignified, virtuous image was vital because of the presidential election, and for Lee Myungsoo, he needed to maintain the righteous image unique to young politicians.
“Keep updating the projected seat counts and respond to any changes, even while I’m in Russia.”
“Understood.”
Russia was important, but Korea was my home base. This general election was critical.
Once I’d finished receiving all the updates from Korea, we arrived in front of the Kremlin.
From the entrance, soldiers armed with machine guns were controlling access.
“Mr. Kim Muhyuk, confirmed. Please proceed.”
We parked the car and walked toward the Grand Kremlin Palace, where the inauguration was to be held.
Inside the palace, in the Andreevsky Hall, all of Russia’s most prominent figures had gathered.
“Charlie.”
I stopped at the sound of someone calling me and turned around.
Roman was approaching with a warm smile.
“It’s been a while, Charlie.”
“Yes, Roman. A year, isn’t it?”
We exchanged a light embrace before heading toward the inauguration hall together.
“How have you been, Charlie?”
“I’m always the same. And you, Roman—you supported Putin this time, right?”
“That’s right. Who else but Roman Abramovich, Berezovsky’s so-called avatar, ha-ha.”
Roman laughed loudly at his own self-deprecating remark.
It was true enough, but he didn’t seem to mind others mocking him that way.
I gave a small chuckle at his hearty laughter, though I didn’t feel entirely at ease.
“No need to be self-conscious, Charlie. It’s the truth. Berezovsky raised me. Whether they call me his dog or his avatar, I see it as a kind of medal.”
This was how Roman lived.
Berezovsky had noticed him when he was just a smuggler and brought him ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) into the light.
From then on, Roman acted exactly according to Berezovsky’s wishes.
But when Putin tried to eliminate Berezovsky, he quickly swore loyalty to Putin and survived.
“By the way, have you thought about buying a football club? I’m considering a Premier League team myself.”
Roman shifted the topic smoothly.
“Not yet. Which club are you looking at, Roman?”
“Chelsea and Leeds—one of the two. I’ll be sending an agent to England soon. Charlie, no interest?”
He nudged me lightly in the side and whispered as if sharing a secret.
“How about we each grow a club and become rivals?”
“Chelsea and Leeds?”
“Yes. Both are in poor financial condition right now.”
When Roman talked football, his smile was completely genuine.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Wouldn’t it make for a great story? Two businessman friends growing football clubs and engaging in friendly competition. It’s bound to be a hit, don’t you think?”
Two businessmen with no ties to England building football clubs... it would certainly attract public curiosity and hype.
“I suppose it would.”
“Then take this opportunity to seriously consider it.”
As we talked football, we arrived at the Andreevsky Hall.
To reach the main hall where the inauguration was held, we had to walk through an extraordinarily long corridor.
Guards stood with rifles, and behind them, rows of solemn-faced people were lined up on both sides.
“Impressive, isn’t it?”
“It’s magnificent. Is this the path Putin will walk?”
“A Russian presidential inauguration is staged like a coronation. A splendid sight indeed.”
Listening to Roman’s explanation, we eventually reached the main hall.
In the center were ambassadors and officials from around the world, attending as congratulatory envoys.
“I’ll see you later at the party, Charlie.”
“Yes, see you then.”
Roman didn’t yet have a place in the front row and went to his seat in the third row.
The front row was filled with oligarchs and foreign ministers from major powers like the United States and China.
“Oh! President Kim, over here.”
From the front row, Berezovsky waved at me cheerfully.
Because of his booming voice, people in the hall turned to look at me.
Ignoring the sudden attention, I walked over to him.
“It’s been a while, Chairman.”
“Ha-ha-ha! Come, come.”
As Berezovsky hugged me tightly and patted my back, murmurs spread among the crowd.
It wasn’t surprising—a young East Asian man suddenly appearing alongside Berezovsky was bound to draw attention.
‘Looks like everyone assumes Berezovsky will be pulling Putin’s strings. Just look at the confidence he’s radiating.’
From the reactions around us and Berezovsky’s demeanor, I could guess what the people here were thinking.
After our brief embrace, I smiled in return.
“You look even better than before.”
“Ha-ha, of course. I couldn’t be happier.”
Berezovsky’s words and actions radiated the ease of someone who felt he owned the world.
It was a far cry from when he had first been planning to sell off all his businesses and leave Russia.
Back then, despite his confidence, he was still careful in public because of his many enemies.
Now, he seemed entirely unconcerned.
Standing in my assigned spot, I chatted while scanning the surroundings.
Opposite Berezovsky, I spotted a group glaring at him.
‘Siloviki, perhaps?’
While we were exchanging small talk, the military band began to play.
At the sound of the music, Berezovsky turned toward the main doors.
The doors opened, and guards entered carrying the Russian flag and the presidential standard.
Behind them came guards carrying the constitution and the presidential chain of office.
Finally, Yeltsin walked in.
His face showed clear signs of illness, and his gait was awkward, but he maintained his signature impassive expression as he mounted the platform.
“Yeltsin doesn’t look well,” I murmured to Berezovsky beside me.
“Of course not. He was in the hospital until recently. He only checked out briefly for the inauguration, but his health is still poor.”
“I see.”
“Still, Putin promised him and his family immunity, so he had to attend. If Zyuganov had won instead, he’d be spending his remaining years in prison.”
Berezovsky spoke quietly about Yeltsin’s situation.
“His heart’s in bad shape, but it was that promise of protection from Putin after retirement that convinced him to step down early.”
Though Yeltsin had avoided immediate investigations thanks to Putin, public opinion was harsh.
If Zyuganov and the communists took power, he knew he’d be prosecuted without question—so he resigned before his own approval ratings could hurt Putin.
Meanwhile, the band changed tunes.
It seemed Putin had arrived—the corridor was growing noisy.
From a distance came the sound of loud applause.
It was a completely different atmosphere than when Yeltsin had walked the same path.
One era was ending, and a new one was beginning.
The applause drew nearer, and the guards opened the doors.
Putin entered, walking confidently with his signature stride.
As everyone in the main hall, myself included, clapped, Putin strode past Yeltsin and moved to the center.
“I hereby declare Vladimir Putin elected President of Russia.”
When the election commissioner announced it, Putin placed his hand on the constitution.
In a low but firm voice, he recited the oath of acceptance and the presidential pledge.
As soon as the oath ended, the band played the Russian national anthem, and all the Russians present, except for the foreign guests, began to sing.
Seeing so many people singing their anthem with solemn pride, I could sense Russia’s future.
Putin’s speech that followed expressed a clear ambition to build a strong Russia.
“I, Putin, will build a strong Russia, a strong motherland. I will establish a nation that does not bow to the United States or Western Europe.”
After his short but powerful speech, Putin approached Yeltsin, shook his hand, and embraced him firmly.
Then, the two proceeded to the Kremlin Cathedral for the presidential guard’s inspection.
I accompanied Berezovsky to the grand banquet hall where the celebration party was to be held.
“President Kim, how’s business these days? How’ve you been?”
“Same as always. James handles most of it—there’s not much for me to do.”
“Always so modest. Russian companies will be up for grabs soon. Interested?”
“I’m always interested. Any recommendations for solid ones?”
“Ha-ha! Just wait—some real gems will come up. I’ll leave one for you to take, so just have the money ready.”
I only smiled in reply.
Berezovsky chuckled, then said casually, “Gusinsky will be taken out soon. He’s still clueless, hammering Putin every day on air, but there’s no reason for us to let him be. Right?”
“Faster than I expected.”
“Better to deal with it now before he becomes a nuisance. I might even tell Putin today to start the investigation immediately.”
The way he treated Putin, now President of Russia, like a subordinate explained why he would eventually be eliminated—Putin was not the sort to tolerate challenges to his power.
I knew how his story ended, but I said nothing.
Even if I did, he wouldn’t listen.
I simply agreed lightly and entered the party hall.
With his profile elevated after the election, a crowd quickly gathered around Berezovsky.
Leaving him to his greetings, I moved deeper into the banquet hall.
Someone approached me right away.
“Mr. Kim Muhyuk.”
It was Kim Hyungil, the Foreign Minister.
“Ah, Minister. You came in person?”
“Ha-ha, it’s good to see you here.”
“Yes, likewise.”
It wasn’t just politeness—after a whole day of speaking Russian, Korean felt refreshing.
“I heard you’ll be visiting the North as well.”
“It just worked out that way.”
I’d kept the Kim Hakgwon administration in suspense for a long time before finally agreeing to join the delegation for the inter-Korean summit.
“That’s a relief. I can tell you now—Pyongyang made it a condition to bring you along. I don’t know the reason, but it seemed the President and the Chief of Staff did.”
It seemed President Kim Hakgwon had withheld full information from Kim Hyungil, a career diplomat rather than a political ally.
For the Foreign Minister not to know the details of diplomacy with the North was far from normal.
I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him.
“Minister, come with me for a moment.”
I led Kim Hyungil over to Berezovsky.
“Chairman.”
“Ah! Kim, sorry—I’m swamped. Ha-ha, I hope you understand. Just enjoy the party. I’ll make time for us to talk later.”
Even while speaking to me, Berezovsky was exchanging glances with others.
“Of course, Chairman. This is South Korea’s Foreign Minister, Kim Hyungil. I brought him over to introduce you.”
When I introduced him, Kim Hyungil spoke fluent Russian.
“A pleasure. I’m Kim Hyungil. I’ve heard much about you.”
“Oh! Minister Kim, an honor to meet you. Ha-ha, come this way—there are many people I want you to meet.”
It seemed Berezovsky understood why I had introduced him. He began taking Kim Hyungil around.
The Foreign Minister started engaging in conversations with various people.
Though he must have met many diplomats in his career, he likely had no direct ties with Russia’s key figures.
It was a small token of appreciation to a man who had dedicated his life to serving his country.
As others watched Kim Hyungil stay close to Berezovsky and greet people, several of them approached me.
“President Kim Muhyuk?”
At that moment, I heard someone call out to me.
