Not Here to Make Money
“Huh?”
For a split second, Yoon-gi was startled, his gaze following the direction Choi Deok-bae was pointing. And there, standing before him, was...
‘Seriously... that’s Putin.’
Putin was born in 1952. By Korean reckoning, he was thirty-five years old at this time. Unlike the face he had seen on TV in the 2010s, he still had a full head of hair, but there was no doubt—it was one hundred percent Putin. His features were so distinct that once you saw him, you couldn't forget him.
‘Wow... I really have lived long enough to see this. To think I’m seeing Putin right in front of my eyes.’
He had encountered all sorts of internet memes and jokes about Putin, but seeing the man in the flesh was so surreal it left him dumbfounded.
“Chairman?”
Roused by Ryu Geun-tae’s voice, Yoon-gi gathered his wits and took his seat with an awkward smile. Yoon-gi and Ryu Geun-tae sat down, while the rest of the entourage stood guard around them.
“No, you can’t just block all the seats like that. What are you expecting us to do?”
At the restaurant owner’s complaint, Yoon-gi gestured for all his attendants to take their seats.
“It’s a bit early, but why don’t you all join me for dinner?”
Given the circumstances, the attendants all placed their orders, and Yoon-gi handed a generous tip to the owner and the staff to ensure their food arrived quickly.
‘Anyway, what should I do...’
With food on the way, Yoon-gi had a moment to think, his mind swirling with how to handle Putin.
‘Should I just let him go?’
To begin with, Yoon-gi’s knowledge of Putin was superficial at best. At most, he knew him as a Russian dictator, a former KGB intelligence officer, and the subject of countless internet jokes.
‘Considering his age, Putin must be a KGB operative right now.’
Yoon-gi’s deduction was half right and half wrong. While Putin was indeed a KGB operative, he had actually submitted his resignation and was currently absent without leave. The KGB director hadn’t processed the resignation, and Putin was in a strange state of limbo, staying away from work regardless of whether the director accepted it or not.
‘Would it even be effective to establish a connection with Putin right now?’
Yoon-gi considered the flow of history he knew. If he were to kill Putin here and now, someone else would inevitably rise to take his place, as history had shown. And that new person would have no connection to him. That meant causing trouble for Putin here was meaningless. Of course, Yoon-gi wasn't the type to make such a decision in the first place.
‘I have neither the reason nor the justification to harm him. So, it’s either leave him alone or make contact...’
Yoon-gi’s brain began to spin at full speed.
‘Unlike China, Putin has completely abandoned communism. Sure, the Soviet government gave up on communism when the USSR collapsed, but it’s certain that Putin didn’t try to revert to the past even after taking power.’
It was the best deduction he could make with his limited information. It was certainly open to error, but Yoon-gi had navigated many crises using this kind of reasoning.
‘Of course, Putin is a dictator. But on the surface, he championed democracy. Doesn’t that mean he’s likely skeptical of communism at this point in time?’
The puzzle pieces of Yoon-gi’s deduction were slowly falling into place.
‘And Putin didn’t take the throne through a coup. He rose to power through at least a legal and democratic process. That means there’s a high possibility he has connections.’
In reality, until 1991, Putin enjoyed the full support of Boris Yeltsin, a wildly popular Russian reformist politician. This was partly because Putin had not participated in the August Coup, which hardliners had launched to oust Mikhail Gorbachev. Yoon-gi, through his deductions, was hitting the mark on Putin’s background.
‘The Soviet Union is going to collapse anyway. That is an absolute, fixed principle of history. And Putin is the king who will follow. Wouldn’t I be an idiot not to make a connection in this situation? Especially considering his ties to the KGB...’
[Putin will not act for a Soviet government that champions communism. However, if he is given a sense of purpose, there is a high possibility he will cooperate.]
This was the interim conclusion Yoon-gi reached. And this "sense of purpose" meant the expansion of concepts contrary to communism in Russia—which, in turn, meant the expansion of capitalism.
‘It’s all or nothing. I have to establish a connection with Putin to get a line into the KGB, and through the KGB, I have to make Mikhail Gorbachev act in a way that is favorable to me.’
He was one step away from falling into a swamp. As he thought this far, Yoon-gi felt a sense of unease.
‘Wait, what is the relationship between the KGB and Mikhail Gorbachev?’
The fact that this thought occurred to him was pure luck. Because the KGB absolutely did not like Mikhail Gorbachev. No, to be more precise, the KGB would be dissolved in 1991. And the reason for its dissolution was that the KGB had staged the "August Coup." The August Coup was an attempt to oust Mikhail Gorbachev. Of course, the coup failed, and Mikhail Gorbachev was immediately reinstated.
‘I can build a good relationship with the KGB through Putin. But if the KGB has a bad relationship with Mikhail Gorbachev, it will backfire. In that case...’
How many Koreans knew that the Russian KGB was dissolved in 1991? Even Yoon-gi didn’t know that fact. However, there was one thing: just as the ANSP stopped being loyal to JD because of JSD, he could deduce that the Soviet intelligence agency, the KGB, might also have a poor relationship with its current head, Mikhail Gorbachev.
‘Let’s not do anything dangerous based on overly optimistic observations. For now, it’s better to just leave a mark on Putin.’
Yoon-gi had narrowly avoided stepping on a landmine.
“Shall we enjoy ourselves for a change?”
“Pardon?”
Instead of explaining to the questioning Ryu Geun-tae, Yoon-gi gestured for the waiter.
“Is there something you need?”
“I’ve come to the Soviet Union for the first time today, and I’m in a great mood. To commemorate this, I’ll pay for everyone’s meal here. Everything, including any additional orders from now on!”
Because he spoke in a deliberately loud voice, Yoon-gi’s words were clearly heard by everyone in the restaurant. At the same time, he handed the waiter a thick bundle of cash. It was more than enough for everyone here to eat and drink to their heart’s content. Cheers began to erupt throughout the restaurant.
Not all the comments were exactly polite, but Yoon-gi was satisfied. His goal was to focus everyone’s attention on him.
“Oh, and this is a tip for you all for working hard to prepare and serve the food. Please share it with the kitchen staff.”
Once he spread tips for the waiters and the cooks, the restaurant turned into a full-blown festival. Free booze, free food, and fat tips—it would have been strange if a party hadn’t broken out.
“Hey, where are you from... ugh!”
A pot-bellied, bald man in his fifties approached to talk, but he was lightly subdued by one of Yoon-gi’s attendants.
“It’s fine. I’d like to talk to him.”
At Yoon-gi’s word, the attendant released his grip, and Yoon-gi bowed his head slightly to the man.
“I apologize. Everyone is a bit on edge.”
“Huh? Uh... well, that can happen. But what country are you from?”
“I’m from Korea.”
“Ah, Korea? Our ally?”
Yoon-gi shook his head with a bitter smile.
“Not North Korea, South Korea.”
“South Korea? Is life good there?”
“Surprisingly, it’s probably better than North Korea.”
Up until the 70s, one could say North Korea was doing relatively well. In fact, until the 70s, they were arrogant enough to suggest a North-led unification. But things changed in the 80s. As the dictatorial regime wearing the mask of communism began to reveal its contradictions, the economic growth rate hit rock bottom. Of course, South Korea was under the same kind of dictatorship, but at least their situation was better than the North’s, which allowed them to pull ahead.
“Hmm, is that so? Well, it doesn’t matter to me either way. Anyone who buys me free booze is a friend. Hahahaha!”
The man, who had been laughing jovially, soon spoke to Yoon-gi again.
“That said, care for a drink?”
Yoon-gi politely declined the man’s offer as he held out a glass filled to the brim with vodka.
“Ah, I’m still a minor.”
“What? A minor? Huh, you’re tall, so I thought you were an adult. Then, how about a beer?”
“Pardon? I’m a minor...”
The man looked puzzled.
“So what? Can’t minors drink beer in South Korea?”
“Can you drink it here?”
“Yeah.”
“...Uh, we can’t in my country. I appreciate the gesture, but I’ll take a rain check.”
“Tsk, what a shame. Well, let’s have a drink when the opportunity arises!”
“Of course.”
Yoon-gi smiled and continued to chat with a few other people. There were plenty of folks interested in the guy who had bought them free drinks.
‘Is this a failure?’
As his main target didn’t approach, Yoon-gi began to worry. He had to leave soon to meet Mikhail Gorbachev. Just as the time came for him to rise from his seat, Putin finally approached him.
“Thanks to you, I had a great meal. Thank you.”
At Putin’s polite words, Yoon-gi nodded lightly.
“I’m the one who should thank you for accepting my hospitality.”
A light smile passed between them. However, Putin soon got to the point.
“May I ask for what reason you decided to treat everyone?”
Yoon-gi clearly noticed that Putin had asked this question from the perspective of a KGB agent. From Putin’s point of view, an Asian man suddenly offering to pay for everyone in a bar was suspicious. Depending on the situation, it could be reported to the KGB.
“Ah, I’m the person who came to have a discussion with the General Secretary today.”
The best card Yoon-gi could play in this situation. Yoon-gi deliberately revealed his identity in front of Putin, a KGB agent. He had to show some action for the other party to show theirs.
“Pardon?”
Even Putin, who had seen it all, seemed momentarily flustered, as if this was completely unexpected. Honestly, it would be strange if he believed it. If Putin hadn’t been in a situation where he had submitted his resignation, he would have known about Yoon-gi’s entry into the country. But because he was effectively absent without leave, he knew absolutely nothing about Yoon-gi’s background.
“After visiting the Soviet Union, this vast land made me feel as if my chest was being blown wide open. And the reason I treated everyone here today was because I wanted to know if the Slavic people were cheerful folks. If it had been Japan, they wouldn’t have responded to such hospitality like this.”
“You wanted to know if we were cheerful folks?”
“To know how to do business, don’t you have to understand the nature of the people?”
A quintessentially capitalist answer. Putin seemed to think there was no point in continuing the conversation and brought it to an end.
“Ah... I see. Oh, look at the time... I really enjoyed the meal today. Thank you.”
Watching Putin walk away, Yoon-gi hoped for a butterfly effect.
* * *
Finally, Yoon-gi met Mikhail Gorbachev. At 56 years old in 1986, he was certainly not young, but by the standards of a General Secretary, he was remarkably young. Even within the Soviet Politburo, he was the youngest. Because the Politburo had been filling the General Secretary position based on seniority, everyone kept dying of old age, which is why the youngest, Mikhail Gorbachev, had risen to the top.
‘Wow, he’s got the Korean Peninsula, including the Goguryeo territory, drawn on his head.’
Yoon-gi’s first impression upon seeing Gorbachev in person was of the Three Kingdoms period. On top of Gorbachev’s head, which only had hair on the sides, the territories of Goguryeo, Silla, and Baekje were clearly etched.
“I heard that instead of investing in Soviet industry, you want to operate a private company directly.”
Because Gorbachev was the youngest in the Politburo, he was also the most reform-minded politician. Therefore, he did not view YK’s intentions negatively. After all, it was a plan Gorbachev himself intended to implement by 1987.
“That is correct. Our YK Group hopes to be able to jump directly into Soviet industry.”
It was Ryu Geun-tae who spoke, not Yoon-gi. That was only natural, as Yoon-gi was too young. No matter how young a General Secretary Gorbachev was, he couldn't deal with a child. That was why Yoon-gi had brought Ryu Geun-tae.
“Hmm... if that happens, it means our Soviet currency will leak abroad.”
At Gorbachev’s words, Ryu Geun-tae shook his head.
“No, our YK Group did not come to the Soviet Union to make money.”
“Pardon? What do you mean by that?”
To Gorbachev, who wore a very puzzled expression, Ryu Geun-tae replied with a calm face.
“In exchange for the profits, we hope to obtain the Soviet Union’s resources.”