Free Web NovelWhile eating lunch at the hotel, I spoke with Manager Ma, though my eyes never stopped scanning the surroundings.
“Boss, it’s not just one or two groups.”
“Seems that way, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. Quite a few tails are on us.”
If even I could sense it, then Manager Ma must have already picked up on many more eyes.
So, more people are interested in me than I thought.
“What shall we do?”
“They’re shadowing us so openly it’s hardly surveillance... later, in a quiet place, let’s send them a warning.”
“Yes, I’ll tell the security team.”
Whether surveillance or tailing, being this obvious was bad form. Even if they were deliberately making their presence known, announcing my every move, it was unpleasant.
I set my knife down and shook my head.
“This food doesn’t suit me at all.”
“Is that so?”
Unlike me, who had barely touched it, Manager Ma’s plate was nearly empty.
“Was it edible for you?”
I’d heard endlessly about the infamous British cuisine, but I hadn’t expected even a five-star hotel restaurant to be this poor. Eating outside would be difficult here.
“During mercenary days, I ate far worse than this just to survive. Compared to that, this is luxurious.”
“So what are you saying, that it’s good or not?”
At his flat reply, I gave a small laugh and lifted the tea before me.
“At least the tea is excellent.”
Not an empty compliment—the tea was indeed exquisite.
I tilted the cup and looked out the window, scanning the London cityscape in one view.
“At least three teams... where could they be from?”
I lowered my eyes slightly, mulling over which powers might be keeping me in check.
“Why, Charlie! To think I’d run into you here.”
At that familiar voice calling my name, I looked up.
There stood Roman, who should have been in Russia, smiling broadly as he extended a hand.
I rose and shook it, my face arranged in feigned delight.
“Long time, Roman. What brings you here?”
“Why would a businessman be in London? Business, of course.”
Roman laughed heartily, brushing it off.
After the last incident, his freedom to travel abroad had been limited.
And yet, for him to be in London at the exact time as my schedule—was that coincidence?
And in this vast city, meeting in the very hotel where I was dining? Only a fool would believe that. I lowered my voice.
“Roman.”
Sensing the weight in my tone, he quickly waved his hands.
“I’ll explain later. It’s true I came for a football club acquisition.”
So that was his stated purpose. I didn’t ease my ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) suspicious gaze but gave a slight nod.
“Looks like you decided to go through with the purchase.”
“Indeed. Finished eating, Charlie?”
“I was just about to leave.”
“Food wasn’t good, was it?”
At his teasing, I frowned and shook my head.
“Not at all. Came to London and thought I’d try British cuisine, only to ruin my appetite.”
“Haha, nearby there’s a place with wonderful desserts. Not run by the British, of course—it’s French-owned, so the taste is guaranteed.”
His words carried the suggestion to move elsewhere.
“Today isn’t the day.”
I shrugged, glancing around at the three tables openly watching our exchange.
“No problem. It’s one of my own establishments. I can clear out every other guest, so we can talk alone. Still, seeing how popular you’ve become makes me proud. You’re a big shot now, Charlie.”
“In that case, let’s go.”
“Excellent. The taste, I guarantee.”
Roman ordered his aide to clear the shop, then left the hotel with me.
“What brings you to England?”
“I came on business too.”
“First time in London?”
“Yes. I’d heard the weather was dreadful, but today’s quite clear.”
Roman matched my pace with small talk until he stopped in front of a shop.
“This is it. Let’s go in, Charlie.”
He spoke proudly of the dessert shop. Following his lead, Manager Ma and I entered.
Once we were inside, the sign was flipped to “CLOSED,” and the shutters were pulled down.
“Please, sit here.”
Roman indicated a table at the very center.
I glanced around slowly before taking the seat he offered. He sat opposite, smiling.
Soon cakes and various desserts were set on the table, along with a fragrant cup of coffee placed before me.
“Please, try it.”
Roman lifted his own cup, inhaling the aroma, and gestured toward the desserts.
“First, tell me why you sought me out.”
“Let’s talk as we eat—”
“Roman, do I look like I’m in the mood? Or do you still intend to call this coincidence? That you, with a dessert shop just steps from my hotel, happen to run into me? You expect me to believe that?”
At my cold words, Roman set his cup down and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“No fooling you, Charlie. Yes—it’s true. President Putin sent me to meet you. This shop too, though outwardly mine, is in fact managed by the Russian government.”
“Putin? So the football story was a lie?”
“No, that’s real. I’ve been in England for a week already. Yesterday, when he learned you had arrived, Putin contacted me to reach you.”
Of course Putin was watching my every move. Sending Roman—already friendly with me and coincidentally here for a Premier League club—made sense.
Roman’s expression held no sign of deceit.
After enduring my suspicious stare, he cleared his throat and spoke.
“First, his message. ‘I am Kim Muhyuk’s friend. I would never endanger a friend. I hope there is no misunderstanding. All those involved in this matter will bear great responsibility.’ That is what he said.”
Since asking Medvedev to deliver my words, I’d heard nothing back.
So Putin had waited, finishing his own investigation into the affair before sending this.
“I don’t know the details myself, nor why he insisted I be the messenger. But I hope you understand the sincerity behind his words.”
I studied Roman’s face. Though he spoke steadily, his features were stiff.
After Berezovsky’s fall, he seemed to have become wholly loyal to Putin.
Breaking the long silence, I gave a slight nod.
“Tell him I understand.”
“Yes, I will.”
I sipped the now slightly cooled coffee and tasted the cake. Sweetness and soft cream blended perfectly, pleasing my tongue.
“Remarkable. It’s quite good.”
At my small exclamation, Roman laughed aloud, his expression easing.
“Though it’s an intelligence front, the flavor is real.”
“Best thing I’ve eaten in England so far.”
“I don’t like English food myself.”
With business finished, the talk shifted to small matters. Roman’s eyes still shone with his obsession: football club acquisition.
“Charlie, don’t you want to own a club? Being a Premier League owner is irresistible.”
“Is that so?”
A football club, huh... I set down my fork and tapped the table lightly.
He’d been urging me before, suggesting we own clubs and face each other in the league. But I’d never been that interested.
“Many clubs are in poor financial shape. Buy one, build your dream team, conquer the Premier League—or even Europe.”
His eyes gleamed as he spoke of his vision.
I had never cared much for football. Before my return, nor now. At most, I watched the Olympics or Asian Games.
“Next year Korea is hosting the World Cup. Take this chance, Charlie—acquire a club. I’ll help.”
“Hmm...”
“Why hesitate? You’re not short of money. All you need to do is own it, leave management to the experts, and provide the funds for players you want.”
Why was he so fixated on this? Was it for prestige, the glory of being a Premier League owner?
“Don’t you already own a Russian club?”
“That’s only for the future of Russian football. Top players don’t come to Russia, no matter the salary.”
European stars avoided Russia, lacking infrastructure. His frustration was understandable.
Come to think of it, wasn’t this around when the Glazer family started buying up Manchester United shares?
“Should I try for Man U?” frёewebnoѵēl.com
The Glazers had paid nothing, using the club’s assets as collateral for loans. Then pocketing enormous profits year after year.
Roman joked it was an ATM, but in time, football clubs became money machines.
Chinese tycoons, Middle Eastern sheikhs, even wealthy Southeast Asians—all would soon snap up Premier League clubs.
As I pondered, Roman kept talking, eager to persuade me.
“No sport excites the whole world like football.”
“That’s true.”
“I think I’ll acquire Chelsea. Negotiations are still underway, but close to done.”
“Already? That’s fast.”
Roman smirked slyly and nodded.
“The club’s debts were heavier than expected. I offered to clear them in exchange for ownership. Thought about buying a strong club, but isn’t it more fun to turn a weak one into a powerhouse?”
Talking football, he was as giddy as a child. He truly loved the game.
I wondered what made such a ruthless man so passionate.
“Is there a club worth me buying?”
“Oh, Charlie! Finally decided?”
“Since I’m here, I may as well consider. Any recommendations?”
“Hmm...”
I’d thought he’d answer immediately, but instead he agonized for a long while.
“Charlie, you’re not short on money. You could buy any club—even giants like Man U, Arsenal, or Liverpool. But where’s the fun in that?”
“Fun?”
Sure, clubs could make money eventually, but early on they devoured cash. And he spoke of fun?
“The fun of rebuilding piece by piece. That’s why I chose Chelsea. Once a great club, now drowning in debt. But with funds, it can be great again—its fanbase is strong.”
So, for him, prestige was the point. He needed that honor.
“Can’t think of a team to recommend?”
“This is difficult. But... Leeds United. What do you say?”
“Leeds?”
“Yes. Rivals of Man U. Right now, crippled by reckless spending on players. But they showed strength—just last year, they reached the semifinals in Europe.”
I knew of them. Still in the Premier League now, but within a few years they’d plummet all the way to the third tier.
So notorious that in Korea the phrase “Leeds Days” became slang for a team’s lost golden era.
“I should meet them at least once.”
“Ha! Excellent. Then in the Premier League, you and I will be rivals. We’ll fight for the trophy.”
Roman roared with laughter, visibly thrilled by the thought.
“Leeds United, huh...”
Even if I entertained the idea because of Roman’s push, it would serve as a perfect cover for my real purpose in England.
