redvbooks Chapter 344 : The Goose That Lays Golden Eggs (2)
Chapter 344 : The Goose That Lays Golden Eggs (2)
Kate Moslin, CEO of Editors, was the one asking.
She wanted to know if I was the one accumulating their shares.
In truth, she probably already knew the answer.
If she weren’t at least 99% sure, she wouldn’t have bothered coming all the way here.
And yet, she still wanted to confirm it in person.
She was trying to eliminate uncertainties.
Corporate acquisitions are, by nature, information warfare.
Even with 99% certainty, this battlefield demands preparation for the 1% uncertainty.
In that sense, anyone preparing for a takeover must have countermeasures for even the slightest possibility.
But the problem with that is simple.
Resources become scattered in the process.
Moslin hates that kind of waste.
She prefers to make sure of things directly rather than rely on vague assumptions and then prepare her next move.
Like a true Formula 1 enthusiast.
Like racers shaving off even 0.1 seconds in a corner.
She does not tolerate unnecessary detours.
Moslin smirked and pressed me again.
“It’s a simple question, isn’t it? Yes or no. Is it really something to think this long about?”
What she wanted was a clear confirmation.
But I had absolutely no intention of giving her one.
Even if I did, the best I’d get out of it would be her goodwill, which was meaningless.
We were destined to be rivals either way.
More importantly, there was something else I had to focus on now.
This was an opportunity.
The truth was, I hadn’t finalized my strategy yet.
I had several prepared scenarios, but I couldn’t decide which one to go with yet.
The reason was simple.
The casting wasn’t finished.
In the end, it’s the lead actors who complete the stage.
No matter how flawless the script is, picking the wrong actors leads to failure.
And this scenario had three leads.
CRISPR Medical, Editors, and Intelligentsia.
The problem was that I didn’t understand them well enough yet.
Without knowing the actors, I couldn’t assign them suitable roles.
In that context, this meeting was the perfect opportunity.
Consider it an audition.
I needed to find out what kind of people these leaders were.
How they reacted when cornered.
Where their breaking points were.
So I figured I’d lightly scratch at her nerves first.
When does a person’s true nature show?
When they’re relaxed? When they’re welcomed?
No.
It’s when they’re put in an uncomfortable situation.
In that sense, I decided to provoke Moslin just a bit.
I slowly took a sip of my coffee, set the cup down, and answered.
“Unfortunately, I can’t respond to that question. Disclosing a fund’s investment strategy externally would be a breach of fiduciary duty.”
“For someone who says that, you’ve been quite loud about your moves, haven’t you?”
“Me?”
I pointed at myself with an innocent look, and she hesitated briefly before continuing.
“Haven’t you been like that from the start? The AI investments, the China positions. You’ve rarely been quiet about your investments.”
I blinked slowly, as if I had just realized what she meant, and nodded.
“Oh, that.”
Then I sighed lightly and shrugged.
“I had no choice. There are disclosure requirements. Trust me, I found it very burdensome too… but those are things we’re obligated to reveal. Transparency is a fundamental virtue in the financial market.”
“Yet I remember you also leaking other information. Like that whole ‘Black Swan’ thing.”
“That was a warning for the public good. I was concerned innocent investors would suffer.”
Then I looked straight into her eyes.
“Disclosing information to protect the public is a totally different matter than leaking secrets for a corporation’s private gain.”
Moslin’s jaw tightened.
She clearly didn’t like how the narrative was taking shape.
Under that frame, I became a benevolent guardian worried for the public, while she became a petty CEO chasing self-interest.
Most CEOs wouldn’t care about that framing, but she was different.
The word “private gain” must have really scraped her nerves.
Maybe she was the type with strong moral conviction.
Possibly even slightly idealistic.
“So yes, I’m afraid I can’t share any concrete investment details.”
As I reiterated my stance, she uncrossed her legs and placed both feet firmly on the floor.
She leaned forward and clasped her hands on the table.
“If you can’t reveal specifics… what about something general? For example, your investment philosophy?”
Direct, as expected.
“If you invest in companies like ours, do you remain just a financial investor? Or do you intervene in management?”
She was asking whether I’d just fund them, or also interfere.
I folded my fingers together and smiled calmly.
“When I own something, I manage it myself. Leaving it in someone else’s hands and hoping it’ll work out isn’t management… it’s neglect.”
That was a blunt admission that I would intervene in management.
Her lips curved up, but it was clearly a forced smile.
Her jaw was tense.
“Most people trust experts, don’t they? In a field this complex, wouldn’t it be wiser to leave it to those who’ve dedicated their lives to it?”
“Oh, well… I’m a med school graduate myself.”
“So you’ve read a few textbooks and now believe you have more insight than researchers who devoted their whole lives to this?”
Her gray eyes sharpened.
Even her tone had grown sharper.
I answered with a grin.
“Were the Wright brothers aviation experts?”
“What does that—”
“Did Steve Jobs hold a PhD in computer engineering? Was Elon Stark a trained rocket scientist?”
I lifted my coffee cup, took another sip, and set it down.
“As you know, they weren’t. Yet they pioneered innovations that changed the world. What’s even funnier? They accomplished things most ‘real experts’ insisted were impossible.”
“You’re saying you’re the same as them?”
“No.”
I shook my head.
Then added calmly:
“I have far more money than they ever did.”
And that was excluding my personal wealth.
The Cure Fund alone was 100 billion dollars.
Add Masayoshi’s fund and it totaled 200 billion.
In the history of Wall Street, there were only a handful of people who could wield capital on that scale.
Moslin bit her lip.
The mask was coming off.
“There are things in this world that money can’t buy.
One of them is a ‘goose that lays golden eggs.’”
The subtle disdain embedded in her voice when she said the word “money.”
And the pride that followed.
It seemed she was the type driven by ideals like the value of technology and contributions to humanity.
“I don’t need to explain how special this goose is. For now, let’s speak in the language you prefer — numbers. From a purely economic perspective, do you think anyone would sell a goose that lays golden eggs every year?”
Of course, the “goose that lays golden eggs” referred to CRISPR.
In other words, her point was that no one would easily hand over a future cash-printing machine.
But I calmly replied:
“Everything has a price.”
“No.”
She cut me off.
“The owner of this goose has no intention of selling it at any price. If anything, they might rather poison the goose than hand it to you.”
Another warning.
If someone attempted to forcefully acquire the goose, they would slit the goose’s belly themselves.
A poison pill.
A defensive tactic in hostile takeovers.
Issue a flood of cheap new shares to dilute ownership, sell core assets, or take on massive debt—Making the company so unattractive that no buyer would want it.
Better to swallow poison than be taken.
“Burn it all down rather than give it to the enemy?”
“If necessary.”
She smiled coldly.
“If you want a goose that hasn’t even entered the market yet, you’ll have to accept that much. How do you plan to take something the owner refuses to sell? This is not a problem money can solve.”
It was a firm declaration.
But I couldn’t help letting out a small laugh.
“That’s what happens when someone doesn’t know how to use money properly. Direct negotiation with the owner may be difficult, yes. But money can be used in far more ways than one.”
“That sounds like an empty threat.”
“Then shall I explain using your goose metaphor?”
“‘Stealing the caretaker’ or ‘raising a competing goose’ won’t work.”
She interrupted me.
“Stealing the caretaker,” meaning poaching key talent.
“Raising a competing goose,” meaning funding similar biotech rivals.
She had already prepared countermeasures for those.
“You don’t need to be from Wall Street to see through such basic tricks of capital.”
Her confidence made me smile.
She underestimated Wall Street a bit too much.
We hadn’t even begun the real talk yet.
“The ways to utilize capital go far beyond that.”
If I only stated it verbally, she wouldn’t believe me—so I gave specifics.
“For instance, we could cut off the goose’s feed. If we acquire or lock down exclusive contracts with every supplier of its special feed? If we buy up every lake and pasture the goose uses and block access? A starving goose will eventually leave its owner.”
That meant cutting off key partnerships.
Freeze research funding. Block essential equipment supply. Poach core personnel.
A company with severed supply lines can’t survive.
A company isolated from the ecosystem must eventually surrender.
“Or we could dominate the golden egg market. No matter how beautiful the golden eggs are, what good are they if no one will buy them? What if every jeweler and gold exchange says, ‘We do not handle your eggs’?”
That hinted at cutting off distribution.
Licensing partners, pharmaceutical firms, clinical trial hospitals—
If all those routes were blocked?
No matter how revolutionary the technology, it would never reach the market.
They would not be able to move one step forward without my permission.
I saw confidence gradually draining from her expression.
She tried to hide it as she answered:
“That’s impossible.”
I smiled leisurely.
“For most people, yes. But as I mentioned earlier, I have a lot of money. But I’d prefer to avoid such troublesome measures. So I would first choose to negotiate nicely with the owner.”
A brief silence followed.
She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them with a changed expression.
A genuine smile curved her lips this time.
“Interesting.”
Her prior uneasiness had vanished completely.
Like a racer who slips in a corner but instantly regains control—
She recovered her composure with astonishing speed.
“Do Wall Street people always issue threats so openly?”
“I wasn’t threatening you. I was explaining the possibilities.”
“Oh, possibilities.”
She stood up.
I moved to rise as well, but she gestured for me to remain seated.
“Stay seated. I know the way out.”
She walked toward the door, then paused before leaving.
Turning back, she said:
“A goose also has the right to choose its owner, Mr. Ha.”
“Of course. But a hungry goose tends to lose judgment.”
The door closed.
I returned to the desk, reviewing the meeting in my mind.
“The outline is becoming clear.”
Editors.
Kate Moslin.
Proud. Ideal-driven. Quick to recover.
A racer’s mentality—shaken for a moment under pressure, then instantly back in control.
A fitting role was forming for her, but it was still too early to finalize.
There was no rush. I would meet the others first.
“Now, who’s next?”
The remaining two out of the CRISPR trio would appear soon enough.
Each in their own way.