Free Web NovelThe moment I stepped into the room, Medvedev came rushing out. He pulled me into a tight embrace and greeted me warmly.
“President Kim Muhyuk. It’s even nicer to see you here in Seoul.”
After the hug, Medvedev laughed loudly.
It wasn’t like he was genuinely happy to see me.
To gauge his reaction, I deliberately spoke as casually as possible.
“It hasn’t been that long since we met in Moscow.”
“I owe you an apology for that time.”
Medvedev dipped his head slightly.
“I would never disrespect you or fail to show you proper regard, President Kim.”
Just as I expected. Medvedev must have been afraid of losing my trust.
He held onto his position as second-in-command solely because he was the President’s friend.
The reason he held such important posts—Chairman of Gazprom’s board and Chief of Staff—was simply because the President trusted him.
In authoritarian states, the second-in-command is always subjected to checks, pressure, and constant schemes.
Medvedev has a weak support base. There’s no one backing his power.
Neither the oligarchs nor the siloviki supported Medvedev. No one did.
Ironically, it was precisely because he had no support base that he became Russia’s number two—but that was also why he must have felt uneasy.
That was why Medvedev valued the lifeline called me all the more.
After all, I wasn’t on bad terms with either the oligarchs or the siloviki.
“That’s right. There’s no way Medvedev would disrespect me. Still, I can’t say I felt great about it back then.”
“At the time, I was impatient and acted too hastily.”
“But there’s no need to dwell on the past. So don’t take it too much to heart either, Medvedev.”
“Haha. Thank you. It’s reassuring to know how broad-minded you are, President Kim.”
Watching my reaction, Medvedev laughed loudly once more.
It felt as though he was desperately trying to cover the shadow in his heart with laughter.
“Please, have a seat.”
He guided me to a seat, and we sat facing each other.
“I ordered room service. I wanted to talk quietly.”
Every move Medvedev made drew media attention.
Even going down to a restaurant together would have been a burden.
“I heard you held negotiations today with the Ministers of Trade and Foreign Affairs. How did it go?”
When I asked about the negotiations, Medvedev, who had been smiling, let out a sigh.
“We decided to talk again tomorrow. The Korean government is frustrating. Even though the Presidents already settled the matter, they keep dragging things out, talking about procedures.”
Medvedev complained bitterly.
In authoritarian states like Russia, once the President gives an order, everyone involved moves in perfect unison. freewebnøvel.com
But Korea couldn’t operate that way. That was probably why procedures were emphasized at the negotiating table.
It was only natural that Medvedev found it exhausting—this was completely different from Russia, where things always moved swiftly under presidential orders.
“That’s because it’s the Republic of Korea. Power isn’t concentrated in a single person like in Russia. The people wouldn’t allow that. We already suffered from those consequences decades ago. That’s why procedures matter.”
“I understand that. Still, isn’t this negotiation far more beneficial for Korea than for Russia? If it weren’t for you, President Kim, I wouldn’t even have come to Korea myself.”
Medvedev was speaking the truth.
Russia was already working with China on pipeline projects.
If it weren’t for me, there was no reason to rush into this project with Korea.
“I know that very well. I’m always grateful that you agreed to my request.”
“It was your request, President Kim. Of course I would agree. But tell me—do you know the Minister of Trade well? What kind of person is he?”
Smiling gently, Medvedev asked as if something had just occurred to him.
“The Minister of Trade? You mean Minister Lee Jinsik?”
“Yes.”
“I know his name, but I’ve never met him personally.”
“Is that so? He’s incredibly rigid. But the moment he heard Jungwoo Construction would take the PM role, his entire demeanor changed, and he suddenly became very deferential.”
I could roughly guess what had happened.
The Ministry of Trade had made numerous efforts to secure PM contracts for domestic construction firms.
But each time, they ran into the harsh wall of reality and failed.
“Haha. He’s probably like that because he’s a career bureaucrat. You know this well too, Medvedev—bureaucrats aren’t fond of taking responsibility.”
“I know that all too well. Still, it was excessive.”
“But didn’t the negotiations go well? The President’s will must be firm.”
“Yes. The meeting with President Yoon Changho went very well. After agreeing on the broad framework, we sat down with the working-level officials.”
President Yoon Changho’s resolve was unwavering.
The project aligned with his administration’s goal of diversifying energy imports, while also offering the added benefit of stabilizing people’s livelihoods.
“Was there anything else discussed while working out the details?”
“They asked to add another construction company alongside Jungwoo Construction and form a consortium. In exchange, they said they’d concede on all other conditions.”
“A consortium? They want to bring in another construction firm... So they need a PM track record. Did they mention a specific company?”
“No. They didn’t name any.”
Was there a construction firm Minister Lee was pushing? I’d have to look into that separately.
“I told them we’d talk again tomorrow, since there’s a separate person overseeing this project.”
“You handled that well.”
“What should we do? If we accept that condition, it seems we could extract quite a lot of concessions from the Korean government.”
From Medvedev’s perspective, adding one more construction company was trivial.
If it meant gaining something larger in return, all the better.
“There’s no need. Jungwoo Construction alone is sufficient. There’s no reason to share it with another firm.”
Forming a consortium might reduce the burden and make things easier, that [N O V E L I G H T] much was true.
But a consortium, for all its nice-sounding name, was really just one body with multiple heads attached.
Decision-making would slow down, and that could interfere with the project’s pace.
There was no reason to take on that kind of risk.
“Hm... Very well. I’ll reject it on that basis.”
Medvedev didn’t object to my decision.
Even if it wasn’t in Russia’s national interest, he knew that my intentions mattered more in this matter.
I could feel his careful attitude—he didn’t want to offend me.
“You plan to personally handle negotiations with North Korea, correct?”
“Yes. I’ll need to go to Pyongyang once to deal with the development of the Nampo Special Economic Zone and several other matters. Once the schedule is set, I’ll contact you—so come in then as well, Medvedev.”
“Understood. Just let me know in advance, and I’ll adjust my schedule.”
Just then, a bell rang from the door, followed by a man’s voice.
“Chairman. Room service has arrived.”
Medvedev got up and opened the door.
His aides wheeled in the cart the staff had brought and quickly set the dishes on the table.
After the aides left, Medvedev locked the door again.
“I thought it’d be better if it were just the two of us, so I sent them away. Let’s talk over a simple meal.”
Medvedev said as he poured wine into the glasses.
Wine instead of vodka? Catching my look, Medvedev gave an awkward smile and continued pouring.
“Tomorrow’s schedule is tight, so I ordered something light. Is that alright?”
“Of course. Where are you headed tomorrow, by the way?”
“In the morning, I’ll be going down to Ulsan.”
“Ulsan?”
Medvedev held out his wine glass to me.
“Yes. I plan to take a look at Jungwoo Refining.”
I accepted the glass.
“A good idea. Jungwoo Refining is at the core of this project, after all.”
“Korea’s refining technology is among the best in the world, isn’t it?”
“That’s true. But I understand that refining Russian crude is a bit different from refining Dubai crude.”
“Our Russian crude is far superior. Unlike Dubai crude, which is high-sulfur heavy oil, Russian crude is low-sulfur light oil.”
Medvedev said proudly.
Heavy oil? Light oil? I invested in the crude business, but it wasn’t my area of expertise, so this was unfamiliar territory.
Holding up my glass, I asked,
“What’s the difference? Isn’t crude oil just crude oil?”
Medvedev clinked his glass against mine and laughed.
“Heavy oil requires highly advanced refining technology. Refining costs are also much higher. The upside is that it’s cheaper to buy.”
“So the crude itself is cheaper, but refining costs more.”
“Exactly. Light oil, on the other hand, contains a larger proportion of high-value products like gasoline and diesel, so it’s more expensive than heavy oil.”
After taking a sip of wine, Medvedev went on at length about crude oil.
In short, he explained that U.S. WTI, North Sea Brent, and Russian crude were largely classified as light oils, while Middle Eastern Dubai crude was classified as heavy oil.
Though all types produced different grades, the proportions were small enough that they were broadly categorized that way.
“Ah, so that’s why WTI trades at around fifty dollars per barrel, while Dubai crude trades around forty.”
“That’s correct.”
At Dream High, our primary investments were crude oil futures and options.
We’d already made significant profits and continued to bet on rising oil prices.
Crude prices were steadily trending upward with moderate gains.
“Our Russian crude has excellent quality, yet we export it at prices similar to Dubai crude. We’re not lacking in price competitiveness at all.”
The crude oil market largely revolved around three benchmarks.
West Texas Intermediate (WTI) in the U.S., Dubai crude in the Middle East, and Brent crude in the North Sea.
WTI was traded on the New York Mercantile Exchange, Brent on the London International Petroleum Exchange, and Dubai crude in the Middle East and Singapore.
“Isn’t Russian crude also considered part of the Brent category?”
“In broad terms, yes. But we intend to challenge the oil market led by Western countries. Right now, three benchmarks dominate the market—but soon, Russian crude will create a new paradigm.”
The energy market was a critical arena for establishing international hierarchy.
Along with food, energy resources were among the most powerful weapons.
“I’ll be rooting for you.”
“Thank you. That’s why this project is important for Russia. At present, most Russian crude is sold to Western Europe. But things will change. Once the pipeline connecting China and Korea is completed, the global oil market will likely be swayed by Russia’s hand.”
After the Cold War ended, Russia had ceded global hegemony to the United States.
This was likely their ambition—to reclaim that position through oil.
If the shale revolution hadn’t occurred, Russia’s dream might have come true.
But I didn’t laugh at Medvedev’s ambition lightly.
“Then Rason City will be key.”
“Exactly. That’s why we forgave all of North Korea’s debt in exchange for development rights to Rason City. We plan to turn the Rason Special Economic Zone into a forward base for Russia’s access to the Pacific.”
It was a plausible plan. And after all, hadn’t Rason always been Russia’s dream of a warm-water port?
“Let’s finish eating first.”
“Agreed.”
While we ate, the conversation stayed light. After finishing the meal, I set down my knife and called out to Medvedev.
“Medvedev.”
“Yes, President Kim.”
“What’s your endgame? Where are you aiming?”
“......”
He looked at me with half-lidded eyes, as if probing my intent.
“I don’t have any hidden agenda. I’ve heard that Russia’s constitution limits presidents to two terms.”
In the recent presidential election, the incumbent had won reelection with 72% of the vote.
But because of term limits, he wouldn’t be able to run again in the 2008 election.
“Shouldn’t you start preparing?”
“......I just want to live a long, quiet life. I have no desire to become President.”
“Really? Once the current President steps down, your power will vanish along with him.”
“......”
“How about building your own base of power, starting now?”
“The President won’t allow it.”
Medvedev answered firmly, but there was unmistakable fear in his voice.
“Talk to the President. Ask him to make you his successor.”
“You’re telling me to become a puppet?”
“That’s how you maintain your power. I’ll help you.”
“How exactly do you plan to help?”
In the original course of history, the next President was Medvedev.
But he would wear the title while acting as nothing more than the Tsar’s puppet.
If that was the case, why not place Medvedev firmly in my own hands instead?
“I’ll make you a true President.”
The current President was difficult even for me to deal with—but Medvedev was different.
I intended to become a kingmaker.
