A Dash of Gambling in a Meticulous Plan
After the meal with Wolfman, the club meeting with Grace that followed, the investment plan drafts, all the paperwork, and finally my school assignments, everything was done.
As soon as I got back to the dorm, I went straight to sleep.
A deep sleep, without even a dream.
I had slept hard for the first time in a while, and when I opened my eyes, it was the middle of the night.
...I woke up at an awkward hour.
The moment I sat up in bed, intending to get a glass of water, a faint light glimmered out of the darkness.
On the desk, a lamp was on.
Beneath it sat Victor, holding a beer can.
“Victor. Why are you still up?”
“Oh... Sanha. You're awake?”
I picked up a beer can rolling around on the floor.
It was non-alcoholic beer.
Victor scratched his head, looking embarrassed.
“I just... wanted to set the mood, I guess.”
I sat down across from him.
“Something wrong?”
“...”
Victor hesitated for a moment before speaking.
“Yesterday, at the restaurant. When my dad was praising you... honestly, I felt a little, I don't know, ashamed of myself. Not jealous. Just ashamed.”
“...”
“You’re good at everything. Studying, investing. You can even hold a conversation with my father. I just felt like a fool nodding along from the side. Sorry. I know it sounds pathetic. My only real strengths were being smart and good at school. But then I came here and guys like me are everywhere, and... I started thinking my one advantage had vanished overnight...”
Victor covered his face with both hands.
“I want to adjust here properly too, and live up to my father’s expectations. I really do. But... I just don’t have confidence.”
“...”
“My father believes in me, and I don’t know if I can live up to that faith.”
“...”
“So I lay down to sleep, but I couldn’t. I tried to have something to drink and clear my head, but... real alcohol scared me too much.”
“...”
After a moment of silence, I spoke.
“Victor.”
“...Yeah?”
“You have another talent. You have the talent of putting people at ease. Do you know how important that is in business?”
Victor looked up.
I decided to speak plainly.
“Honestly, when I first came to Harvard, I was pretty intimidated. Even before I got to the dorm, I was worried. I hadn’t had any friends in high school, so what if it was the same here? What if I got discriminated against?”
“...What? You? I never would’ve guessed.”
“I acted calm on the outside. But you were the one who talked to me first, like it was nothing. I really appreciated that.”
Of course, that had been before my regression, but there was no problem in thanking him now.
If anything, it was a gratitude that had come far too late.
Before I regressed, I had never once been this honest with Victor about what was on my mind.
“You did the same thing yesterday at dinner. When the atmosphere got stiff over investment talk, you and Vivian started bickering and loosened everyone up. Thanks to that, the conversation flowed naturally.”
“That was just because Vivian was getting on my nerves...”
“That’s your talent. It comes out naturally, without you even trying. I envy that.”
Victor’s eyes wavered.
He muttered to himself for a while, then lowered his head.
“...Thanks.”
I said nothing and patted him on the back.
How much time passed like that? Suddenly Victor shot his head up.
“Sanha.”
“What?”
“I want to help with your project too.”
Victor’s eyes were shining.
“I want to be part of what you’re doing. I’ll do anything. Organizing documents, making calls, whatever you need—just tell me. If I’m рядом... if I’m by your side, I know I’ll learn a lot. If I keep learning while working with you, maybe I can live up to my father’s expectations someday, and maybe I can become someone better too. I don’t need payment. I just want to follow you around and learn. If it’s unpaid, that’s fine, too—could you let me help you?”
“...Hm.”
I rubbed my chin.
Victor had a slightly clumsy side, but he was kind and sincere.
And from my point of view, he only looked like a doofus; in reality, he was the kind of talent who had been admitted to Harvard with excellent grades.
What was more, in my previous life Victor had been a first-rate trader from Black Diamond, good enough that once he left, I could no longer compete with his numbers.
If someone like that helped my business, it would be a tremendous advantage.
Even if he couldn’t be useful right away, there was no telling what might happen in the future.
...We need someone for research, sales, and marketing anyway.
I put a hand on Victor’s shoulder.
Then I said seriously, “Fine. Come by starting tomorrow.”
“Huh? Come by where?”
Victor blinked.
I shrugged.
“Our club.”
* * *
The following afternoon.
An old club building tucked away in a corner of Harvard’s campus.
Dead ivy hung thick over the red-brick exterior, dried up and withered from the walls.
At the end of the hallway, an old vending machine buzzed and rattled, while the walls on both sides were plastered with posters, flyers, and graffiti of every kind.
“Harvard Jazz Band — Fall Auditions / September 15, 6:00 p.m. / Bring your own instrument”
These bastards can’t even play worth a damn, but they sure are loud!!!
Agreed. They’re basically cicadas. Screaming their heads off to mate, and all they do is make a ton of noise.
Looks like they’re not even that good at mating either, lol~
“Debate Club recruiting new members! Come if you’re confident in a fight of words!”
Shut down this boring-ass club already.
“Chess Club Weekly Meeting — Every Tuesday, 7:00 p.m. / Beginners Welcome”
Absolute beginners, do not go! It’s nothing but chess maniacs in there!
“1990 Fall Semester Club Competition — Winner: Mock Trial Club / Runner-up: Astronomy Society”
Are they still accepting entries here?
“Economics 101 textbook for sale / almost new / $10 / contact: Mike, Dorm 3, Room 312”
I saw this bastard smear boogers all over the book.
“Looking for a blue hoodie / lost in the second-floor lounge last Friday / beer on me if you find it”
I’ve been using it as a rag at my place. Sorry.
“Looking for a roommate / non-smoker / vegan / Muslim / doesn’t snore”
Just live alone.
“Math tutoring available / calculus, linear algebra major / $8 an hour / money back if grades don’t improve”
I’m someone who got a refund from this bastard. He’s fucking terrible at teaching.
.
.
.
Victor and I walked down the hallway with its peeling paint.
The creaking wooden floor groaned under every step.
At the end of the hall, on one old door, a sheet of paper had been pasted up at a crooked angle.
Blood & Guts.
It sounded like the name of a loud metal band, but in fact it was the name of an investment club.
Creak—
I opened the door and stepped inside.
Grace was already there.
“Hi. Who’s behind you?”
“A prospective member.”
At my words, Grace frowned.
“I’m not planning to take in any other members besides you and me. Not for a while.”
“You can share my equity. He’ll be useful.”
“Share the club’s equity? You don’t even know how much you’ll have, and you’re talking about it already? Besides, our club’s equity could be worth hundreds of millions of dollars per one percent in the future. I think you’re taking this too lightly. Sanha, I’d prefer not to have to revise my evaluation of you.”
Grace’s attitude was sharp.
Then Victor spoke up.
“I... I can contribute to the club too.”
“What exactly can you do?”
“Look.”
Victor handed Grace a paper envelope.
It was a résumé.
Inside were Victor’s high school academic records and his admissions transcript.
Victor’s Harvard entrance scores put him in the top five percent—good, though not quite the very top tier.
He had also attached several accounting-related certifications he had earned in high school.
Victor mustered his courage and said, “Every summer, I interned at my father’s fund. I handled real work myself—organizing documents, managing schedules, matching trade confirmations... I wasn’t on the idea-generation side of trading, but I know how to handle paperwork and reconciliation.”
“So you’re specialized in menial tasks?”
Grace crossed her arms, looking incredulous.
“What kind of company would hire a secretary just for menial work and hand over equity, too?”
“It’s not menial work.”
I stated my position clearly.
“Managing ledgers and reports, plus marketing, hospitality, sales, and market research—there’s no way just the two of us can do all of that. If we have someone we can trust, it’s more efficient to work together. Victor has volunteered unpaid, and if there’s any compensation involved, it’ll come from my own share of equity or my own capital. There’s no way that would harm you.”
“...”
Grace’s expression changed ever so slightly.
She let out a small sigh and nodded.
“Fine. But Victor is your responsibility, Sanha. If anything goes wrong, it’s all on you. Separately from that, if he doesn’t make any clear contribution for more than three months, I’ll fire him with my authority. I won’t show any mercy just because he’s a classmate. If you agree to those terms... then I’m in.”
“Thanks for giving me a chance!”
Victor answered with grim determination.
And just like that, Blood & Guts began with three members.
“Good. Then let’s set our first goal.”
Though she acted prickly, Grace still gave Victor, the new member, a concise summary of the situation from earlier.
“Every year, Harvard holds something called the Oddball Entrepreneur Competition. It’s a contest where students bring their own business ideas and compete against one another. If you win, the Harvard Alumni Association backs you as an angel investor.”
“An angel?”
Victor asked back, and before Grace’s face could crease with irritation, I quickly explained.
“Angel investor. They provide seed capital, information, and connections without asking for repayment terms. There are two criteria for winning the competition: high returns and originality no one else has thought of. If it’s just something ordinary, like making money in stocks, you’ll lose points on originality. No matter how good the returns are.”
Victor asked again, “Then what kind of idea are you two going to push? You have to make money in a way that’s different from a normal investment club, right?”
“Now we can finally get to the point.”
Grace picked up a piece of chalk and wrote one word on the blackboard.
Victor read it, then tilted his head.
“...Lottery?”