Genius Grandson Of The Loan Shark King

Night fell quickly over Moscow.

I shared a great deal of information with Medvedev, who came by almost every evening.

“Aren’t you busy? If someone saw this, they might think this was Medvedev’s house.”

When he arrived as naturally as always after nightfall, I teased him with a smile.

“Haha. How often do you get an opportunity like this? Aren’t you the one who’s even busier, President Kim? You came all the way to Russia and still kept up with your schedule. We haven’t even had time to sit down and talk like this for long, so the only choice is for me to come at night.”

Medvedev answered slyly and laughed along with me.

“Or do you dislike me coming here?”

“It’s not that I dislike it. I’m just worried that bad rumors might start spreading. Isn’t it about time we started being wary of other people’s eyes?”

“What do you mean...?”

Medvedev trailed off in confusion as he looked at me.

He clearly had no idea what I was talking about. In the end, I decided to get straight to the point.

“This president can’t run again because of the term limit. Unless the constitution is amended. But amending the constitution would be even harder.”

Even in my previous life, people endlessly speculated why Putin had bothered to hand power to someone else once instead of simply amending the Russian constitution and removing the term limit.

No one ever truly knew the reason.

At the time, the United States closely watched the situation while assuming that figures like Igor Sechin or Sergey Lavrov—two of the president’s closest associates—would become the next presidential candidate.

Sechin was someone the president trusted deeply, enough to place him as chairman of Rosneft, the second-largest company in Russia after Gazprom.

If that man inherited the presidency, it would be the worst possible outcome for me.

He had been the leading figure among the siloviki who most fiercely opposed my acquisition of Yukos subsidiaries.

But Sergey Lavrov isn’t easy either.

As foreign minister, he represented Russia’s policies and views in place of the president.

No one was more conservative than him.

And no one represented Russia’s interests more aggressively.

The only card I have is Medvedev.

Because I had interfered so deeply in Russia’s politics and economy in this life, many things had changed.

Medvedev had risen to the center of power much faster than he had in my previous life, and it was impossible to predict what kind of variable that might become.

“Hm... I think it may still be too early to talk about a successor.”

“Time doesn’t wait for us, Medvedev. What will you do if you relax like that and suddenly a competitor appears?”

There was no way Medvedev and the siloviki could have a good relationship.

Medvedev was a typical bureaucrat, while they were men from intelligence agencies and the military. Chemically speaking, they were incompatible.

On top of that, because of me, Russia’s power structure had changed significantly.

The oligarchs—who now held one axis of power—and Medvedev had joined forces with the civiliki, the group that had been pushed [N O V E L I G H T] out by the siloviki in their power struggle.

“....”

“Amending the constitution is impossible for now. The president knows it, and you know it too. Of course, everyone else knows it as well. But as you know, that man isn’t the type to let go of power.”

He was the kind of person obsessed with power enough to cling to it until death.

Even just looking at the path he had taken in my previous life made that perfectly clear.

“In the end, he’ll hand the presidency to someone he trusts once and then take it back again to maintain power. Considering the legal restrictions, that’s the path he’ll choose. He’ll keep the back door open and maintain his influence behind the scenes.”

Medvedev couldn’t respond.

It was understandable. It wasn’t a topic that could be answered lightly.

Still, I continued.

“I’m returning to Korea now. That means I won’t be able to pay much attention to Russia for a while. That’s why I’m bringing this up today.”

There had been plenty of opportunities to tell Medvedev these things while I was staying in Russia.

But today could very well be the last.

Once Director Ma finished cleaning up the internal conflict within Chunha Group today, I intended to head back to Korea immediately.

“If continuing this conversation makes you uncomfortable, we can stop.”

“...President Kim. If it were to leak outside that we discussed such a topic, I could be killed immediately.”

“Don’t you trust me? What benefit would I gain from destroying Medvedev?”

I had no intention of changing Russia’s president.

Even if I tried, Russia wasn’t a country I could easily shake like China or North Korea.

But if some unexpected variable arose and someone else ended up taking power in Russia, I hoped that person would be Medvedev.

I had invested heavily in Russia.

Someday my investment in North Korea might exceed it, but for now my capital in Russia was far greater.

In authoritarian countries like Russia, if politics becomes unstable, the economy shakes with it.

And I wanted Russia to remain politically stable.

“So, should we stop?”

“No. Please continue.”

In the end, Medvedev chose to open Pandora’s box.

For me, even if someone else took power, the worst outcome would simply be some disruption to my business.

But for Medvedev, it was a matter of life and death.

“You need to manage your image. And stop clashing with the siloviki all the time. Instead, position yourself as the mediator between the oligarch-civiliki alliance and the siloviki.”

The reason Medvedev had received the presidency in my previous life was precisely because he had performed that mediator role well.

“You’re telling me to betray the oligarchs and the civiliki?”

“Betrayal?”

Even after consuming plenty of political material, he still viewed politics in such black-and-white terms.

Politics was a place where today’s enemy became tomorrow’s ally.

Even I, a businessman, understood that.

Yet a politician didn’t?

Well, that was exactly why he was perfect as a puppet.

“The siloviki’s goal is simple. They want the current president’s regime to continue so their interests remain protected. They’re a group willing to do anything for his power.”

The current president and the siloviki were bound by fate.

If one collapsed, the other would fall with it.

“The oligarchs don’t care who holds power as long as their businesses continue. The oligarchs and the siloviki exist for completely different reasons.”

They would never gamble everything for Medvedev.

“The civiliki might be slightly better. But they’re incompetent politically. If they had political skill, they wouldn’t have been pushed aside by the siloviki. In the end, they joined hands with you because they had no other choice. They’re not a group loyal to you.”

As I calmly laid out reality, Medvedev’s expression grew complicated.

Neither the oligarchs nor the civiliki shared the same destiny as him.

So could reconciling with the siloviki truly be called betrayal?

“I’m not telling you to enter the siloviki inner circle. That would be the worst possible move. Unless you come from the KGB or FSB—or you’re a military general—you can’t become mainstream there.”

Many media outlets later categorized Medvedev as part of the siloviki after he became president.

But in reality, it was different.

To the siloviki, Medvedev was always an outsider.

“The president himself won’t like any single faction becoming too powerful. He’ll worry that power might one day turn against him.”

When he handed Yukos to me, he had placed a brake on the siloviki’s dominance.

That alone revealed his intentions.

“So starting now, don’t act as the representative of one faction. Position yourself as the mediator moving between both sides.”

“Is that even possible? The siloviki don’t like me.”

Medvedev frowned.

“If you keep approaching them, they won’t be able to openly ignore you. That would be equivalent to challenging the authority of the president who gave you power. I’m not telling you to merge with them. Just play the role of mediator on the surface.”

I continued persuading Medvedev, who still hesitated.

After a long discussion, he finally nodded.

“I’ll try. But if I want to get closer to them, I’ll need to throw them some bait.”

“I’ll prepare that.”

“I’d appreciate that... but why are you going this far for me? The truth is, it doesn’t really matter to you who becomes the puppet, does it?”

Medvedev already knew that the next president would merely become Putin’s puppet.

Which meant the best thing I could do now was simply tell the truth. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

“For me, it’s best if that person is Medvedev—someone who maintains a good relationship with me. That’s good for my business and for my safety. Even if it’s an investment, I believe it will return greater profit.”

If Medvedev someday truly became Russia’s real ruler, I believed he wouldn’t forget me.

Meeting my eyes, Medvedev slowly nodded.

“I see. Then I suppose I should begin preparing.”

Finally.

A satisfying answer.

I smiled brightly, took his hand, and lightly tapped the back of it.

“You made the right decision. It won’t be easy. Mediating between two pillars of power. People might call you a bat for it, but that’s how Medvedev survives.”

“If it weren’t for you, President Kim, I wouldn’t have made this decision so easily.” freёwebnoѵel.com

Because of my interference, Medvedev had already strayed far from the path he originally should have walked.

So redirecting him like this was the right thing to do.

For both of us.

“No. Even without me, you would have done it eventually.”

“You’re too modest. I’m not that strong-hearted. Becoming the next president...”

It wasn’t something you could simply decide to do.

In the end, it depended entirely on whether that man chose you.

Our conversation ended with a knock on the door of the reception room.

It was Manager Kim.

“We’ve received a call from Korea.”

Since Manager Kim came personally, it was probably from Director Ma.

When I nodded and looked at Medvedev, he stood up with a smile.

“I’ll be going now. No need to see me out.”

“Alright. I won’t go far.”

“Hahaha. Of course. You need to take the call. I’ll come by again tomorrow.”

After sending Medvedev off, Manager Kim handed me the phone.

“Director Ma. How did it go?”

—The general meeting just ended, Boss.

“Really? No one got hurt?”

It was unlikely, but I still asked, worried he might have been injured.

—I’m fine.

“That’s good. Did you clean things up properly?”

—Yes. According to the plan, Im Hwasu has been elected chairman. For the time being, Vice Chairman Chu Dongbin will continue assisting him so the group can transition smoothly. Once things stabilize, he says he’ll retire.

So Chu Dongbin chose to remain Yu Seongjin’s subordinate until the end.

Unfortunate, but it couldn’t be helped.

“Since he intends to follow Yu Seongjin, let him. Actually, tell them I’ll meet Chairman Im Hwasu and Vice Chairman Chu Dongbin once I return to Seoul. I should at least see their faces.”

—Understood.

If Chunha Group had chosen its new chairman, then it was time for me to return.

“Can I come back to Korea now?”

I had deliberately delayed my return because Director Ma worried too much.

—Yes. But what should we do about Yang Wooguk and those who supported him?

“If we get rid of all of them, half of Chunha Group will disappear, right?”

—Hm... If we only remove those at department-head level and above, it shouldn’t cause major issues.

“What do Chairman Im Hwasu and Vice Chairman Chu Dongbin say?”

There was a brief silence on the other end.

Then Director Ma’s voice returned, cold as ice.

—We can’t leave everything to them anymore. So I’d like to make an example out of them as well.

Looks like Director Ma was seriously angry.

I decided to respect his judgment.

“Then there’s nothing more to say. Handle it as you see fit. Whatever decision you make is effectively my decision.”

—Thank you, Boss.

“Then let’s meet in Korea in two days. If possible, I’ll arrive in the morning and finish the necessary business. I don’t think we’ve ever been apart this long.”

—Yes. I’ll be waiting at the airport.

“Then I’ll hang up. You must be busy.”

When the call ended, Manager Kim spoke quickly.

“I’ll secure takeoff clearance so we can depart the morning after tomorrow, Boss.”

I nodded and looked out the window.

It was time to return to Korea.