Fund Manager Chae Eunchae (1)
Han Juhyeong made his way to the meeting place with his head a tangle of doubts.
He’s going to short Facenote? Is it really that bad?
The investment prospectus Chae Eunchae had sent looked airtight. Facenote’s IPO seemed destined to succeed.
But the man who was certain it would fail was none other than Lee Jaseung.
The elegant strategy that had forced the sale of Yuseong Steel. The hundred-billion-won margin he had shown in the competitive bid. That had been only a few days ago.
More than anything else—
That guy’s pride is something else. He never starts a game he can’t win.
And yet Jaseung was openly taking a short position? Putting up seventy billion won of his own money to raise the rest?
That kind of conviction left a deeply uneasy feeling in Juhyeong’s gut.
Hmm. The way Jaseung’s acting, something’s definitely off. I should just pass on Facenote. But why did Eunchae push this on me in the first place? She doesn’t think I’m a sucker, does she?
Muttering that he was going to give her a piece of his mind, he pushed through the door.
The moment he stepped inside, every complaint melted away.
“Oppa! You’re here?”
Chae Eunchae, pretty enough to put any idol to shame, rose with a dazzling smile.
“Yuseong Steel—well, Hanyeong Steel now. I heard you’re taking over as CEO. Here’s a little inauguration gift.”
“Huh? Hey, you didn’t have to go this far. Haha.”
Juhyeong sat down with a foolish grin.
Meanwhile Chae Eunchae, coolly offering her congratulations, was stomping the ground in her mind.
He just sat next to Jaseung and sucked up all the honey, then walked off with Yuseong Steel for free!
Court receivership, the class-action suit, the hundred-billion-won bid gap—every single piece had come straight out of Lee Jaseung’s head.
What made it even more infuriating was that, that day in the hotel suite, the same opportunity had been offered to her on equal terms.
Damn it! I should have locked Jaseung down first!
If she had won the bid at 990 billion, she would have pocketed several hundred billion at the very least. A deal far more lucrative than the Facenote play she was pushing now.
It killed her to think about it, but what could she do? Water under the bridge.
Instead, Facenote has to succeed. No matter what!
That was why she had been burning the midnight oil raising capital. Today’s cash cow was the easy mark, Han Juhyeong. Especially now, riding high on consecutive victories and drunk on success—perfect timing.
“Listen, Juhyeong oppa.”
“Yeah?”
“Have you thought about Facenote? Seo Seong Securities is selling fifteen billion dollars’ worth to institutions. I managed to secure three billion of that.”
Three billion dollars in allocation. Even a thirty-percent pop would mean a hundred million in capital gains.
And my performance fee would be twenty million dollars! An entire building!
“If you put in twenty billion, that means you’re walking away with at least six billion. Tons of people are begging me for allocation right now, but I thought of you first—”
“Ah, I’m not doing it.”
“……What?”
When Juhyeong cut her off flat, Eunchae froze.
“Why? Last time you said you were interested.”
“Jaseung said it’s garbage.”
Jaseung this, Jaseung that—every other word. Was Jaseung his mother or something?
Eunchae bristled, but she could not simply ignore the name. The last time she had ignored it, she had lost Yuseong Steel.
“That’s weird. Why would he say that?”
“He says it’s massively overvalued. Claims the IPO price will get cut in half.”
“Oh come on, half? Jaseung oppa’s just got bad eyes.”
“No way. He said he’s going to short it.”
“What? Short? He’s going to short-sell?”
“Yeah. Pretty serious size. Around a hundred fifty billion won?”
Eunchae’s mouth snapped shut.
Shorting right after listing—and to the tune of a hundred fifty billion. Pure insanity.
No—it had to be insanity. Because the Facenote she had gone all-in on could not be allowed to collapse.
“I get the feeling he’s got some private information pipeline. He’s not just talking for the sake of it—there’s solid ground underneath.”
Juhyeong added with a sly grin, “He even figured out your bid price, remember?”
“Oh for— That wasn’t me. Hanyeong Heavy Industries couldn’t keep their mouths shut. The leak definitely came from their side.”
“Sure, sure.”
Eunchae pouted.
Does Jaseung actually know something?
The bid figures had been top-secret, shared by only three high-level people. Piercing that ironclad wall meant Jaseung’s network was far beyond imagination.
Is his intel really that good? He’s from a Beomseong family and spent years abroad, so yeah, his connections are wide… but even so, shorting right after the IPO doesn’t make sense.
She asked casually, as if she could not care less.
“Why’s he shorting it? Facenote is being hailed as the next-gen A-phone right now. There’s got to be a reason.”
“Hang on. There was a bunch of stuff written in the investment memo…”
When did he even get an investment memo?
She felt a surge of irritation, but curiosity won out, so she watched him rummage through his bag.
“…Ah. Left it in the car.”
“…….”
“Too lazy to go get it. Why don’t you just ask him yourself?”
“Me?”
Juhyeong went one step further and even recommended it.
“Or take this chance and get consulting from him like I did. The guy’s brain is crazy sharp. It actually helps.”
“I’ll… think about it.”
Eunchae’s face turned prim while her mind raced.
Should I actually ask? It does feel like Jaseung knows something. What the hell does he know? Facenote dropping by half the second it lists? What if I push this and it tanks? No, Facenote can’t possibly… but still, just in case…
After a long moment of hesitation she grabbed her phone and stood.
Juhyeong snickered.
“Going to call Jaseung?”
“No!”
The very next morning Chae Eunchae went straight to the Makers office.
The moment she stepped inside she flinched in surprise.
This isn’t an office—it’s a gallery.
On any other day she would have taken a dozen photos for SNS, but today that was impossible. A sleepless night had left thick dark circles under her eyes.
Jaseung, what the hell do you know?
While she was led to the conference room, the same thought looped endlessly through her head.
Korea’s top chaebol: the Seoseong Group. Branching out from it, the Myeongseong and Yuseong Groups. Together they were called the Beomseong families—and within the business world they were treated like aristocracy. Lee Jaseung had grown up in that circle and built a formidable network.
That’s how he got our bid price too. So the Facenote stock-price story probably isn’t completely baseless either.
Six weeks until the IPO. She was already in allocation talks with Seo Minju. No contract had been signed yet, but deals like this ran on trust.
If I back out now I’ll make an enemy of Minju unnie. That woman holds grudges like you wouldn’t believe. And I was the one who begged and begged for the allocation!
She already had a verbal promise for three hundred million dollars—fifteen percent of Seo Seong Securities’ entire allotment. Suddenly changing her mind and killing the deal could shut her out of future investment opportunities.
But—
If I’m going to pull out, it has to be now. Once my name goes on the prospectus as a major investor, there’s no getting out.
Risk a fight with Seo Minju and withdraw, or keep her word and go through with it? The dilemma had kept her up all night.
Then Lee Jaseung walked into the reception room. The second the door opened he frowned at the sight of her.
Black hat, black sunglasses, black mask.
“Trying to play celebrity now?”
“I didn’t sleep well, okay?”
Eunchae slid the sunglasses down a fraction and continued.
“Anyway. I came because I have a question. Nothing big—I just ran into Juhyeong oppa yesterday and heard something weird.”
The megaphone effect really is the best.
Whatever she had heard from Juhyeong, the fact that she had come all the way here already proved she was shaken.
One more little push and she’ll tip right over.
Sitting across from her, Jaseung feigned ignorance.
“What exactly did you hear?”
“That Facenote is going to tank right after it lists.”
“I did say that.”
“Okay, fine—maybe it dips. I’ll give you that. Lock-ups will expire and dump a ton of shares, and the IPO price was set high, so sure. But it’ll just be a temporary drop, right? Facenote has rock-solid fundamentals. It’ll climb eventually.”
“You’re certain?”
“Obviously.”
“Is that so…”
Jaseung trusted money more than words.
“How much did you put into this fund?”
“…Ten billion won.”
“Ah. Raising three hundred thirty billion and you put in ten. What staggering conviction.”
A flicker of mockery crossed his lips. Eunchae’s face flushed scarlet in an instant.
“How much did you put in, then?”
“I’m raising a hundred fifty billion. I’ll personally invest seventy.”
“Half the fund with your own capital? Oppa, are you insane?”
“I think the insane one is you.”
“Huh?”
“You’re dragging investors in without even being sure yourself, aren’t you? Do you even have an investment philosophy?”
Eunchae flinched and bit her lip. Bull’s-eye.
In truth she had no real philosophy to speak of. The fund had simply been established at the will of her grandfather, the Loan Shark King—to bring money out of the shadows and into the light.
“I-I do, okay?”
“Which is?”
“My… trendiness?”
Jaseung looked at her with pure pity.
Bullshit. Reading that look, Eunchae bristled.
“What? It’s true!”
To a degree it was. Chae Eunchae never missed a wave. If the whole market was going crazy for something, you had to ride it. Why wouldn’t you take a risk-free jackpot?
But now Jaseung was betting the opposite way, and anxiety flooded in.
Did I misread the market flow? But Facenote is already a stable company… Sure, tech stocks crash after listing a lot, but…
Missing Yuseong Steel had only been a lost opportunity. Failing on Facenote meant actual losses. If Jaseung was right and it really got cut in half—
A hundred sixty billion gone!
A hundred sixty billion won in Korean currency would vanish. The year’s performance would print deep red, investors would flee en masse, and if they demanded redemptions she would be wiped out overnight.
That could not happen!!!
She had pushed the deal because it seemed safe; suddenly everything looked uncertain.
What if I take a loss?
Unconsciously she began chewing her nails. Watching her waver, Jaseung spoke.
“Believe in yourself.”
“…Huh?”
Eunchae looked up, startled—she had not expected encouragement. Jaseung smiled faintly.
A moment ago she had admitted with her own mouth that she was a trend-chaser. To break someone who lacked self-belief, what should you tell them?
He did not press harder. Instead he urged her to trust the least trustworthy thing of all: herself.
“I’m short, you’re long. We each follow our own conviction, right?”
Gather whatever scrap of confidence you have left, put a fortune on the line, and try to endure the pressure.
Then he checked his watch and stood.
“You should go. Han Juhyeong will be here soon.”
“Juhyeong’s coming? Why?”
“Facenote, of course. I told you—I’m raising capital.”
Eunchae’s face went pale.
“Oppa, are you really that sure?”
“Have you ever seen me put money on something I lose? I gather information and build a strategy. I’m sure you did the same.”
She had not. What Eunchae had trusted was the trend. But Jaseung might be different.
Maybe he pulled intel from overseas investment banks. He already extracted consortium internal data—there has to be something.
While she wrestled with the thought, Jaseung was already walking toward the door as if the conversation were finished.
“I’ll head out first. I’ve got another meeting after Juhyeong—busy day.”
How many meetings does he have? Is he going to raise a hundred fifty billion that fast?
Eunchae grabbed his arm in a panic as he turned away.
“W-wait, wait a second. Then what do you think I should do?”
For the briefest instant a small smile brushed the corner of Lee Jaseung’s mouth.
One week later.
Withdrawal letters went out to every investor in Chae Partners.
[Notice of Withdrawal from Facenote IPO Investment]
Dear Esteemed Investors,
Our firm established an investment vehicle ahead of Facenote’s IPO; however, after thorough due diligence and valuation analysis, we have decided to reserve investment at the originally proposed price.
The IPO price of $38 significantly exceeds the fair-value range of $30–34 indicated by our models. We judge that a short-term premium driven by market enthusiasm has been priced in…
Chae Eunchae met every key investor one by one, talking and persuading. A few were furious that the fundraise had been cancelled out of the blue, but she bowed her head politely and explained the shift in market conditions and the investment risks.
Then Han Juhyeong, who had received the withdrawal letter himself, walked into her office.
“So you pulled out after all?”
“Yeah. I still don’t know if it was the right call.”
Eunchae’s face looked worn from the stress of the past few days.
“I even had a huge fight with Minju unnie yesterday. She said she’ll never let me into another Seo Seong Securities deal. Ha—it better not be wrong. The losses I already took just from killing this…”
“But you were right.”
“Huh? What do you mean right?”
“I sent you a link. Check it.”
Eunchae hurriedly looked at her phone.
An S-1 is the securities registration statement filed for an IPO. Facenote submitting an amended version right before listing meant critical information had changed.
The substance:
— Advertising revenue on the mobile platform is limited, and growth in mobile users may not translate into revenue growth.
In short:
— The revenue model is uncertain.
“Are you kidding me?!?!”
Eunchae’s voice trembled. She checked additional articles. Every reaction was negative.
“N-now? With the listing right around the corner?”
“Exactly. What would you have done if you hadn’t withdrawn?”
Eunchae swallowed hard. Goosebumps raced down her spine.
If she had never sent the letters? If she had gone through with the investment? If it really had been cut in half?
I almost got completely wiped out…
Just then Juhyeong suddenly stood up, staring at his phone.
“Whoa. Holy shit. Another one just dropped.”
“What?”
“General Motors is pulling all its Facenote ads.”
“See? Told you. That Jaseung guy doesn’t bullshit with money— Hey, what are you doing?”
Eunchae was already dialing Lee Jaseung.
“Oppa. About that investor raise of yours—any spots left? What? You’ve already raised a hundred billion?”
“……No, I’m not yelling, I’m just shocked. Sorry for raising my voice. Could you maybe save just one seat for me? I’ll introduce my clients too. We help each other out, yeah?”
A soft, coaxing, almost melodic tone.
Juhyeong stared at her, dumbfounded.
Having flipped from long to short in the blink of an eye, Eunchae turned back to him.
“Hm? What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“……Never mind.”
This work is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, place names, and events appearing in the work are fictitious and have no connection to any real entities. Specialized knowledge described herein has also been restructured and adapted for the story and may differ from actual information.