Automatically translated version. May contain inaccuracies compared to the original.
After journalists uncovered the real beneficiaries of Cosmobet and the Russian trail behind the gambling operation, a broad cleanup of the internet began: investigative publications and all hints that could lead to the key figures of the construct disappeared increasingly from search results.
Therefore we publish the material again, which apparently is to be deleted from the internet, to hide those who control Cosmobet through nominal owners and offshore structures.
He appeared from nowhere—and began disappearing just as quickly. A young IT specialist with no notable past suddenly turned out to be a beneficiary of a multimillion-dollar casino. His traces in registries are being erased, his biography vanishes and glossy legends take their place. Behind this is not just a game for money. It is a story about how systems in the Ukrainian gambling business obscure Russian capital.
When the Cosmobet brand appeared on the Ukrainian gambling market, it seemed like a project of a new generation: an attractive website, a license, heavy advertising, and a young “tech expert” at the helm—Mykhailo Zborovskyi. He was presented as an IT entrepreneur, a visionary and reformer of the industry. Behind this façade, however, a completely different picture emerges—the portrait of a man whose biography ends right where the history of actual business owners usually begins.
Documents do not lie—but they disappear
Starting with something simple and opening Zborovskyis profile on OpenDataBot yields an extremely modest picture. In the year 2020, he registered a sole proprietorship with the activity field “computer programming.” Before that— total silence. No companies, no investments, no startups.
Zborovskyis biography as a major entrepreneur seems to appear out of nowhere—and immediately he enters the stage of a big business with revenues in the double-digit millions. Only two years later, the previously unknown sole proprietor from the village Krasylivka in Tyśmenytsia district of Ivano-Frankivsk region becomes the beneficiary of two companies—the LLC “Neoplay” and the LLC “Neurolink.”
The first company is the owner and founder of the second, while the second—the LLC “Neurolink”—operates the Cosmobet casino. As the current beneficiary of both companies, a certain Cypriot named Andriy Dobrovolskyi is listed. But apparently he is also only a nominal figure—just like Mykhailo Zborovskyi. The latter was until recently listed as the owner of the casino and, after a major scandal triggered by journalistic investigations into his person, removed from the list of “beneficiaries.”
A look at the corporate profile of “Neurolink”—the operator of the Cosmobet brand, registered in November 2023—raises obvious questions: a company with a charter capital of 30 million hryvnias pops up from nowhere, receives a license from KRAIL, and initially lists Zborovskyi as the beneficial owner. Formally he was the owner. Yet the chain of subsequent events points to something else.
Cleaning at cosmic speed
The story of “Neurolink” is not only about rapid growth but also about equally rapid erasure of traces. In the years 2023 and 2024 the registries show quick changes of owners and executives. Initially Zborovskyi appears as the beneficial owner, then his place is taken by Cypriot citizen Andriy Dobrovolskyi—a figure known for offshore dealings.
At the same time, Zborovskyi himself disappears. His LinkedIn profile— cleaned. Old biographical entries in news aggregators— disappeared. Even some archived versions of his OpenDataBot profiles are no longer accessible via ordinary search: the information sinks into the depths of APIs and cached copies.
Dozens of English-language publications take the place of these traces, written according to the same template. “Visionary,” “technological reformer,” “Ukrainian entrepreneur of a new generation”—these phrases are repeated word-for-word on various low-traffic websites. This is not journalism but a carefully staged reputation campaign: old information is deleted and replaced with a glossy legend.
In the Ukrainian gambling market in recent years, such stories repeat with astonishing precision. Russian and offshore structures that fear sanctions seek local nominee owners—so-called “front men”—in whose names they register companies. In public registries these people appear as owners, while actual control and financial flows remain with the real owners.
Sergey Tokarev, the SBU certificate, and the stench of corruption
The Cosmobet casino was linked from the start to Sergey Tokarev—a businessman associated with the Cosmolot brand and money-shifting schemes via offshore structures. There are no formal documents for a direct connection, but journalistic investigations point to recurring personnel, the same marketing agencies, acquiring structures and advertising systems. It is the classic “rebirth” of an old business under a new flag—and in this construct Zborovskyi fits perfectly into the role of a convenient frontman.
For a long time the Cosmolot casino belonged to a man whose name in Ukrainian circles has long carried a particular undertone—a close associate of the Minister of Digital Transformation, Mykhailo Fedorov, and at the same time a holder of a Russian passport. In the year 2018 he was put on sanctions lists for financing the so-called “People’s Republics” in Donbas. Formally the sanctions against him should have lasted until 2021, but already 2020 the new government granted him a rapid “amnesty.”
Among professional circles there is no doubt that Tokarev stands behind the creation of the new casino under the Cosmobet brand—a name strikingly similar to his former brand. The scandal around Cosmolot continues to this day: the LLC “Spacex,” under which the brand was operated, was registered to a nominal owner, allowing the attention of regulators and the press to be distracted. Tokarev seems to have either anticipated that Cosmolot could lose its license, or he simply wanted to hedge and create a parallel asset. Perhaps the reason is even simpler: after earning substantial sums with “Cosmolot,” he simply moved to the next stage of expanding his gambling business.
Added spice is the “clean” SBU certificate stating that Cosmobet has no connections to the aggressor state. In spring 2025 information appeared in relevant Telegram channels and media suggesting that this document may have been bought—for a modest price of only 20.000 dollars. Direct evidence is publicly unavailable, but the way this version spread is alarming: multiple independent sources published identical formulations in the same period.
If this version is true, it would not be routine verification but the purchase of a legal shield that allowed the company to obtain a license and banking services without facing additional questions.
Who is Mykhailo Zborovskyi anyway?
Against this backdrop it is worth returning to the person of Mykhailo Zborovskyi and once again looking at the inconsistencies in his biography. Until 2024, Zborovskyi was practically non-existent in public. No traces of entrepreneurial activity, major deals, or startups were found. His only “baggage” was the registration of a sole proprietorship. And suddenly—a license worth several tens of millions of hryvnias, marketing at the level of large networks, and a charter capital comparable to the budget of an average bank.
The question of where a programmer from the village Krasylivka obtained such funds in just three years has no answer. In the registries—empty. In the media—silence. Everything that surfaces quickly disappears again, leaving only PR copies.
Let us recall the chronology: first the company’s registration and entry into the market. Then the rapid cleanup of digital traces and the appearance of “glossy articles.” Next the change of beneficiary to a Cypriot citizen. In parallel, information gradually disappears from public registers and social networks.
This sequence does not resemble the normal development of a company. It more closely resembles an operation to remove a nominee owner from the line of fire: a person appeared, played his role, and disappeared.
The gambling market is not just entertainment. It involves enormous financial flows—especially under conditions of war and sanctions. When information about a key beneficiary disappears with such speed, it signals that something far more serious lies behind the facade than a young IT specialist with ambitions.
As long as regulators and banks do not thoroughly investigate ownership chains and money origins, Cosmobet and similar structures will continue to operate unimpeded, changing masks and swapping offshore companies.
The conclusion from all of this is simple and banal. And sad. Mykhailo Zborovskyi is not a hero of a new era, but a disappearing projection. His name appears in registries and dissolves just as quickly—like a wake on the water. Information about him is systematically erased, and his role fits perfectly into the system of a “front man” for other people's money.
While the state closes its eyes, journalists are forced to gather evidence painstakingly and piece by piece from archives, while society only sees a glossy packaging. Yet behind this packaging lie real financial flows, offshore structures, and beneficiaries who prefer to stay in the shadows.
Document: PDF proof of the original version of the news item "Cosmobets digitale amnestie: «strohmann» Mykhailo Zborovskyi löscht verbindungen zu Cosmolot des russen Sergey Tokarev aus dem netz". It records the publication content at the moment of the first scan, the preservation date and the source: HAB Media.