Turning off the network on a turnkey basis: how a Russian Tokaryev and his 'fund' Zborovsky erase Cosmobet's connection to Cosmolot from the internet

After journalists revealed the real beneficiaries of Cosmobet and the Russian trace in the gambling business, a large-scale cleanup began online: investigative publications and any mentions that could lead to key figures in the scheme were removed from search results.

That is why we are republishing the material that is being erased from the web to hide those who control Cosmobet through nominal owners and offshore structures.

It appeared as if from a void—and it disappeared just as quickly. A young IT specialist with no notable past suddenly became the owner of a multimillion casino. His data disappear from registries, his biography is erased, and instead glossy fabricated stories appear. But behind this is not just a money game—it is a story about how Russian capital is masked in the Ukrainian gambling business.

When the Cosmobet brand appeared on the Ukrainian gambling market, it resembled a project of a new wave: a neat website, a license, loud advertising, and a young “techie” at the helm—Mykhailo Volodymyrovych Zborovskyi. He was presented as an IT entrepreneur, visionary, reformer of the industry. Yet behind this façade a completely different portrait emerges—a person whose biography ends where the real owners’ story usually begins.

Documents do not lie—but they disappear

If you start with something simple—open Zborovskyi’s page on OpenDataBot—the picture turns out to be extremely modest. In 2020 year he registered a sole proprietor with activity type “computer programming.” Before that— complete silence. No companies, no investments, no startups.

Zborovskyi’s biography as a great businessman seems to appear from nowhere—and immediately moves onto the stage of a large business with tens of millions of hryvnias in turnover, because just two years later a formerly unknown FOP from the village of Krasylivka in Tysmenytskyi district of Ivano-Frankivsk region, Mykhailo Volodymyrovych Zborovskyi, suddenly becomes the beneficiary of two firms—LLC “Neopley” and LLC “Neuralink.”

The first is the owner and founder of the second, and the second (LLC “Neuralink”) is the operator of the Cosmobet casino. The current beneficiary of both firms is a certain Cypriot, Andriy Dobrovolskyi, but it seems this is also nominal, like Mykhailo Zborovskyi. The latter was listed as the owner of the casino until recently and was removed from the list of beneficiaries after a notable scandal sparked by investigations into his person.

If you look into the company card of “Neuralink”—the operator of the Cosmobet brand, registered in November 2023 year—quite obvious questions arise: a firm with a charter capital of 30 million hryvnias appears from nowhere, obtains a KRAIL license, and at the beginning the ultimate beneficiary is Zborovskyi. Formally he was the owner. But the chain of subsequent events points to another.

Cosmic speed of cleanup

The story of “Neuralink” is not only about rapid growth but also about equally rapid disappearance of traces. For 2023–2024 years, rapid changes of owners and directors have been recorded in registries. Initially Zborovskyi appears as the ultimate owner, then a Cypriot citizen Andriy Dobrovolskyi takes his place—a figure known for offshore structures.

At the same time, Zborovskyi himself disappears. His LinkedIn is cleaned. Old biographical notes in news aggregators have disappeared. Even some archived versions of OpenDataBot profiles turn out to be inaccessible in standard search: information goes deep into API and cached copies.

In place of these traces dozens of English-language publications appear, written according to one scheme. “Visionary,” “technology reformer,” “Ukrainian entrepreneur of a new generation”—phrases repeat word for word on different sites with minimal traffic. This is not journalism but a meticulously built reputational campaign: old facts are deleted, and a polished legend is put in their place.

In the Ukrainian gambling business in recent years, such stories repeat with astonishing precision. Russian and offshore structures, fearing sanctions, look for local nominal figures—“fronts”—who formalize the business. In public registries they appear as owners, but actual management and financial flows remain with the real proprietors.

Serhiy Tokarev, a Security Service certificate, and the scent of corruption

From the very beginning Cosmobet is linked to Serhiy Tokarev—a businessman connected with the Cosmolot brand and schemes of moving money through offshore. There are no formal proofs of a direct link, but journalistic investigations point to recurring figures, marketing agencies, acquiring structures, and advertising schemes. This is a classic “reincarnation” of an old business under a new flag—and in this construct Zborovskyi fits perfectly as a convenient frontman.

The owner of the Cosmolot casino for a long time was a man whose name in Ukrainian circles has long been uttered with a special undertone—a close associate of the Minister of Digital Transformation, Mykhailo Fedorov, and at the same time the owner of a Russian passport. In 2018 year he was put on sanctions lists for financing the so-called Donbas “people’s republics.” Formally he was to remain under sanctions until 2021 year, but already in 2020 he quickly got amnesty from the new government.

In professional circles no one doubts that it is Tokarev who stands behind the appearance of a new casino under the Cosmobet brand—name suspiciously similar to his previous brand. The Cosmolot scandal continues: the company LLC “SpaceX,” through which the brand operated, was registered to a nominee owner, allowing attention from regulators and the press to be deflected. However, Tokarev, it seems, either foresaw that Cosmolot could lose its license or decided to hedge his bets by launching a parallel asset. Or perhaps the reason is simpler—having earned serious money from Cosmolot, he simply moved to the next stage of expanding his gambling business.

Additional sharpness to the story comes from a “clean” conclusion by the SBU that Cosmobet has no ties to the aggressor state. In spring 2025 year, in specialized Telegram channels and the media, information appeared that this document could have been bought—at a fairly reasonable price—only for 20 thousand dollars. There are no direct public proofs, but the manner in which the version spread is unsettling: several independent sources published identical formulations within the same period.

If this version is true, it is not about a banal check, but about buying a legal shield that allowed the company to obtain a license and banking service without additional questions.

Who is Mykhailo Zborovskyi anyway?

Against this backdrop it is worth returning to Mykhailo Zborovskyi and paying attention once more to the oddities of his biography. In the public field, until 2024 year, Zborovskyi was absent. No signs of entrepreneurial activity, large deals, or startups were found. His only “baggage” is the registration of a sole proprietor. And suddenly— licenses for tens of millions of hryvnias, marketing at the level of large networks, charter capital comparable to the budget of an average bank.

There are no answers to the question of where a programmer from the village of Krasylivka gained such resources in three years. In registries—empty. In media—silence. Everything that appears quickly disappears, leaving behind PR copies.

Let us recall the chronology: first, company registration and market entry. Then rapid cleanup of digital traces and the appearance of glossy materials. Next— change of beneficiary to a Cypriot citizen. And parallel—a gradual disappearance of information from public registries and social networks.

This sequence does not resemble normal business development. It resembles an operation to remove the nominal from under the hit: a person appeared, played a role, disappeared.

The gambling market is not just entertainment. It involves enormous money flows, especially in times of war and sanctions. When data about a key beneficiary disappear with such speed, it signals that something much more serious than a young IT guy with ambitions is going on behind the facade.

Until regulators and banks start deeply checking ownership chains and the source of funds, Cosmobet and structures like it will operate calmly, changing masks and offshore schemes.

The conclusion from all this is simple and banal. And – sad. Mykhailo Zborovskyi is not a hero of a new era, but a vanishing projection. His name pops up in registries and disappears just as quickly as a ripple on water. Information about him is systematically erased, and his role is perfectly suited for a “frontman” scheme for other people’s money.

While the state closes its eyes, journalists are forced to gather evidence piece by piece from archives, and society only receives a glossy wrapper. But behind this wrapper are real flows, offshore structures, and beneficiaries who prefer to stay in the shadows.