Chapter 228: The End of the Story. Take Me Away

Berezovsky was nowhere near his former imposing self.

Instead, he grasped my hand while glancing nervously at the agents beside him.

“””Kim, it’s been a while.”

“I couldn’t ask how you’ve been. I’ve heard you wanted to see me.”

Still holding my hand, Berezovsky nodded slowly.

“Yes, I did say that. Let’s go sit somewhere.”

Berezovsky led me toward his study.

“You all stay outside for a moment.”

The agents followed us into the study. Even as Berezovsky told them to leave, they stood their ground.

I suddenly realized that Berezovsky’s influence had completely diminished.

In the past, his words were law.

The saying ‘Flowers do not bloom for ten days’ came to mind.

Berezovsky had been a man who manipulated Russia’s politics and economy at will alongside Yeltsin for a decade.

But now, that presence was completely absent. Frustrated, I decided to take the lead.

“Igor.”

I called to Igor in a low voice. After reading my gaze, he exchanged a few words with the agents and then led them out of the study.

Only Manager Ma, Berezovsky, and I remained in the study.

Seeing the stark change in our positions, a look of suppressed shame was evident on Berezovsky’s face.

“Berezovsky. I can’t spare much time. I’m here solely because of our past connection.”

As I spoke coolly, Berezovsky met my gaze. Then he slowly began to speak.

“It reminds me of the day we first met. When I asked you to introduce me to Putin, I should have realized why you wanted that connection.”

“What does that matter now?”

A self-deprecating smile tugged at his lips.

“You’re right. What does it matter now? The reason I wanted to see you was…”

Berezovsky trailed off, fidgeting with his hands on the table. It seemed hard for him to find the right words.

“Please help me. I’m begging you.”

“Help you?”

“Yes. I’m willing to give up everything. Just help me live quietly abroad, like Gusinsky. You can persuade Putin, can’t you?”

It was such an unworthy request that I shook my head immediately.

“You and Gusinsky are different. Gusinsky didn’t support Putin, but you did, and you know all the infamous deeds he committed to become president.”

“…”

Gusinsky fled Russia to Spain and never mentioned Russian politics again.

But Berezovsky was different. Even after his exile to the UK, he continued to criticize Putin, pouring scorn on Russia.

Putin had seen through Berezovsky and dealt a fitting retribution.

“Even if I bring up your story to Putin, he won’t listen. In fact, let me be blunt—there’s no reason for me to persuade him.”

Berezovsky had acted as a bridge between me and Putin, and with that role over, what was left for him was ruin.

I twisted my lips into a harsh smile.

“You haven’t forgotten, have you, Berezovsky? That day you threatened me in front of the hotel?”

I still vividly remember how he shot his driver in front of me, delivering a chilling warning.

“Your current predicament is due to that arrogance. Each of your past actions has come back to haunt you. If you didn’t want this, you should have crawled back and begged Putin when Roman came to you. Not sought to escape. You ignored the warning I gave you.”

What might have happened had he bowed down and shown deference to Putin? He would likely have received far better treatment than he did now.

“What do I gain by helping someone who can’t even understand Putin? I’m a businessman. Without profit, I can’t assist you.”

Berezovsky’s face stiffened. Perhaps feeling humiliated, I could see his tightly clenched fists trembling.

“You…”

“Did you expect me to say, ‘Yes, of course. I’ll talk to Putin’?”

“…That’s harsh. Then why did you come to see me? To mock my situation, just like that scoundrel Roman?”

Anger flickered across Berezovsky’s face as he spat out Roman’s name. I couldn’t help but smirk at his visible rage.

“Roman will probably survive. Unlike you, he knows when to bow deeply. I think his loyalty to you was repaid when he kept mum to Primakov when you were pressuring me.”

“…”

The reason I had taken the time to meet Berezovsky wasn’t to help him.

“I’ve repaid my debts, so now it’s your turn to pay for the threats you cast on me.”

Perhaps influenced by the smile still on my face, Berezovsky leapt up, rage spilling over.

“What? Kim!”

Berezovsky slammed the table, glaring at me. The sound echoed, but his gaze remained void of emotion as he continued to speak.

“Seeing you angry must mean you’re still alive…”

“This is Russia. Even if I’m at the end of my rope, I won’t let someone like you…”

I interrupted Berezovsky while he gritted his teeth.

“Do you still not grasp reality? How can someone begging for help not put up with the slightest humiliation? You’re more petty than the Roman you raised, Berezovsky.”

“…Don’t compare me to Roman!”

In his desperation, he still clung to his pride. He was smaller than I had thought. I shook my head and stood up.

“Putin is unlike Yeltsin. He won’t be a puppet president controlled by someone like you. He will become the true Tsar of Russia. You are the one who chose to walk this path.”

Manager Ma had been aiming his gun at Berezovsky since he stood up. Pressing down lightly on his hand, he sneered.

“This was your last chance, Berezovsky. If you had simply knelt and begged for your life, if you had apologized for what you did to me… If only you had, I might have been able to help you.”

If he had simply tried to sway me or laid out his cards, I might have helped him, but instead, he attempted to pressure me with a fragment of his power.

His pride, clinging to past glory, only brought disappointment.

“Putin will demonstrate his break with Yeltsin by putting you on trial. Disappear and be a stepping stone for Putin’s power, Boris Berezovsky.”

Watching Berezovsky’s face twisted in humiliation, I vowed to never end up like that.

I stood there, looking down at Berezovsky, who trembled in fear with contempt.

Although he pretended to be strong, he knew better than anyone how his fate would unfold.

With clenched lips, I turned around and silently opened the door to the study.

As I stepped out, Berezovsky snapped back to reality and rushed after me. He reached out for my shoulder, but Manager Ma blocked his advance.

Manager Ma held him firmly with a grip strong enough to make a sound but delivered a chilling warning.

“Don’t touch me without the boss’s permission.”

Igor, who had been chatting with the agents, rushed over at the scene.

“Boss!”

“The story is over. There’s nothing more to say.”

Manager Ma released Berezovsky and stood beside me. The FSB agents moved to grab Berezovsky’s arms.

“Kim! Just a moment…”

“The story is over. Take me away.”

There was no more value in talking. With a cold glare, I watched as the agents took hold of Berezovsky’s arms.

“Kim! Kim!”

Berezovsky called out to me with a pitiful voice as he was dragged out by the agents.

Ignoring his cries, I stepped outside. The car waiting for me slowly drove away from Berezovsky’s mansion.

Just after passing through the main gate, my phone rang.

“—Hello, Mr. Kim. This is Medvedev.”

The call was from Medvedev. To think he would call as soon as I left the house.

He had only claimed not to eavesdrop, but obviously, they had their eyes on me.

“—I heard you left Berezovsky’s mansion.”

“Yes, I just left.”

“—Did you have a good talk?”

Good talk? I let out a dry chuckle without realizing it.

“Berezovsky is still trapped in the past. Please tell Putin he can proceed as I have suggested from Korea.”

“—Uh… Is that all?”

“That should suffice. I’d like to see Putin’s face once before leaving Russia, but considering the many things I have to handle in Korea, it seems difficult.”

“—Understood. I’ll pass that on to Putin.”

“Thank you. Let’s meet again sometime.”

After ending the call, I slipped my phone into the inside pocket of my suit. Fatigue washed over me, and I leaned back against the car seat.

Soon enough, we arrived at the mansion, and as I stepped out of the car, I instructed Igor.

“Make preparations for my trip to Korea tomorrow.”

“Understood, Boss.”

Before entering the house, I glanced back for a moment. The sun was setting, casting a twilight hue over everything.

Time was passing quickly.

After I issued my orders, Han Gyeong-yeong began to swiftly wrap up contracts with all banks and insurance companies involved in leading contracts, including UT Investment Bank.

Meanwhile, the U.S. presidential election had begun, capturing the attention of people all over the world.

Unlike Korea, where voters directly vote for the president, the U.S. follows an indirect voting system through the Electoral College.

In each state, voters vote for the electors, who then vote for the presidential candidates.

So, there were often cases where a candidate who received more votes from the public ended up losing.

In the original history, Al Gore had received more votes from the public, but lost the Electoral College votes, allowing Bush to become president.

Unless something unexpected happened, history would likely unfold the same way.

“How much time is left?”

“About ten minutes, Boss.”

While the U.S. presidential election was important, something even more significant was taking place.

Chairman Song Young-ju of Daehyeon had collapsed. Upon receiving word that he was taken to Korea University Hospital, I hurriedly headed to the hospital.

Thankfully, I received news he had regained consciousness, but I didn’t turn the car around.

Soon, we arrived at the hospital. I got out of the car and made my way to the VIP ward where Chairman Song was admitted.

By the time I reached the ward, Chairman Song’s family had already gathered outside.

Instead of concern, there was a palpable tension, each family member eyeing the others warily.

The sound of footsteps broke the cold silence of the corridor.

At the noise, Chairman Song Chan-woo, who had been whispering to his secretary, turned to look. Upon meeting my gaze, he rose from his seat and approached me.

“Mr. Kim Mu-hyeok.”

“Chairman Song Chan-woo, it’s been a while.”

There wasn’t an atmosphere conducive to a warm greeting. Instead of exchanging casual pleasantries, I spoke directly.

“I received word that Chairman Song Young-ju has regained consciousness. How is his condition?”

“Yes, he’s awake for now. He’s speaking with his attorney inside.”

Thankfully, it seemed there were no major issues. I sighed in relief internally and nodded slightly.

Already, cracks had begun to form among the family after Chairman Song’s collapse.

While I was conversing with Chairman Song Chan-woo, I could feel the hostility in the gazes of his siblings directed at him.

Perhaps he was aware of that, as he kept his answers terse.

At that moment, the door to the ward opened, and an attorney stepped out. All eyes fell on him.

“Mr. Kim Mu-hyeok, Chairman Song Youn-ju asks you to come in.”

I turned to Manager Ma, who stood behind me.

“Wait here. I’ll be back shortly after meeting the chairman.”

“Yes, Boss.”

I passed by the attorney and secretary, entering the ward. Chairman Song was propped up in bed, resting against the headboard.

“You’ve come, Mr. Kim?”

“Yes, Chairman. It’s been a while.”

Chairman Song’s face looked more haggard than I recalled from my last visit.

A wave of concern washed over me as I approached. As I walked over to the bed, Chairman Song broke into a hearty laugh upon seeing my face.

“I confidently claimed I’d live to 120, but it seems all that was just talk.”

Chairman Song Young-ju’s laughter filled the room, echoing the transience of time.