The 121% Return
Two months had passed.
The air in the PBS department of Seo Seong Securities was electric. The floor was more crowded than usual, packed with people who did not belong there. Traders glanced around in confusion.
“What’s going on? Why is it so packed? Did something happen?”
“You haven’t heard? He’s coming today. That’s why the other departments showed up to gawk.”
“He?”
“You know. The downgrade client.”
“No way. For real?”
The client who had insisted the United States would be downgraded and entrusted PBS with a twenty-billion-won deal. In other words, Lee Jaseung had scheduled a visit to Seo Seong Securities today.
“Why’s he coming?”
“Probably to observe the trade execution?”
PBS dealt with institutions. With hundreds of billions—sometimes trillions—moving in a single transaction, clients were permitted to watch and confirm that everything proceeded properly. It was not a common occurrence. Too many visits risked leaking the firm’s own trades. Protocol usually limited observation to the first trade day or the final liquidation day. Today was liquidation day, so Lee Jaseung had come to watch.
And the people of PBS watched him right back.
“So that’s the client. He’s way younger than I expected.”
“Director Seo said he was a friend. Third-generation of Yuseong Group, right? Maybe he had connections at S&P?”
“……By that logic our CEO is a second-generation chaebol and he didn’t know a thing.”
“Shut it.”
Curious stares, whispers, and sidelong glances stuck to him the moment he stepped off the elevator. Lee Jaseung let them all slide off him as he walked into the trading room.
Two turbulent months. In that time the markets had suffered a synchronized global crash. Liquidity in the high-yield bond market had evaporated so completely that trading had halted more than once. Then people finally understood.
Even after a U.S. credit downgrade, U.S. Treasuries remained the ultimate safe haven.
Investors stampeded into Treasuries. Bond prices rose and yields fell without end.
“Current ten-year Treasury yield is 1.81 percent.”
Not a basis point more, not a basis point less—exactly 1.81 percent. Lee Jaseung’s prediction had landed inside a 0.01 percentage-point margin of error.
Seo Minjae had waited two full months for this moment. He had not taken his eyes off the yield chart once. From 2.6 percent to 2.4, to 2.8, to 2.0…… and finally down to 1.8. Along the way he had doubted a dozen times and believed a dozen times more.
“What do we do?”
Lee Jaseung studied the screen with an expression of perfect calm and spoke a single word.
“Begin.”
Seo Minjae nodded and turned to the traders.
“Start the liquidation. Fifty billion scale, dispose of it in stages. First tranche is the TMF ETF.”
Keyboards clattered. Order tickets generated. Confirmation windows appeared. A ten-billion-won sell order. The moment it was confirmed, an execution signal returned in five seconds.
“First tranche filled! Average execution price 112.35 dollars—0.3 percent better than expected!”
The liquidation ran smoothly. The market was still swimming in liquidity. Everyone else was desperate to buy Treasuries; almost no one wanted to sell. In that environment, Lee Jaseung’s short position was a rare and precious commodity.
“Second tranche filled as well! Average price is 0.5 percent above our estimate! The market is eating our offers!”
Watching profits crystallize into cash felt like witnessing a private ecstasy. Numbers on the screen shifted in real time and the account balance climbed. By the time the final order filled, tension hung thick in the conference room. No one could look away from the monitors; everyone waited for the final profit figure to appear.
In the middle of them, Lee Jaseung rolled a rubber ball between his fingers and watched the screen. A number he had once seen in the future overlaid the present.
Final recovery: 44.2 billion. Return: 121 percent.
At last, exactly that number appeared.
Initial Investment: 20 billion won
Final Proceeds: 44.2 billion won
Return: 121%
Holding Period: 2 months
The instant everyone was about to erupt in cheers—
“Done.”
A single restrained voice cut cleanly through the silence and killed the moment of triumph. Seo Minjae stared at him, incredulous.
“Done? You’re looking at numbers this moving and that’s the bland reaction you come up with?”
The entire team nodded vigorously. Exactly! Exactly!
Lee Jaseung let out a short laugh and stood.
“Thank you for your hard work, everyone. We’re leaving.”
He gave Seo Minjae a look. The moment the two of them stepped out of the trading room, a roar of celebration exploded behind them.
— Holy crap, PBS just hit the jackpot. First deal and they pull this off!
— Can I write the execution report? I’m too excited not to. Ten years in the business and I’ve never seen anything like this.
— If you want to take the work off our hands, be my guest……
Listening to the frenzy leaking through the door crack, Seo Minjae nodded to himself. Yeah—that was the normal reaction.
“You’re no fun. Would it kill you to look a little happier?”
“About what? I’m plenty happy.”
This had been the first real application of his ability to see the future, and the results had proven spectacularly effective. Satisfaction was inevitable. Everything had unfolded exactly as he had witnessed it: the U.S. credit downgrade, the initial market chaos, and the Treasury yield dropping all the way to 1.8 percent.
On top of that, Seo Minjae executed cleanly.
Designing a strategy and implementing it in the real world were entirely different domains. Even the most precise plan generated inefficiencies during execution—tiny errors in order timing, slippage on fill prices, funding costs while building the position. And above all, the ability to ignore psychological pressure and simply follow the plan. Theory and reality always left a gap.
Seo Minjae had minimized that gap. He had executed Lee Jaseung’s strategy almost perfectly and used supplementary tactics to absorb market volatility with flexibility. All in all, a thoroughly satisfying trade.
Seo Minjae felt the same. He had steered PBS’s first deal to a spectacular success and issued a timely warning on the Yuseong Group corporate bonds. It was a small victory, yet for him it was a meaningful first step. Which was why curiosity had begun to stir.
“About that succession consulting.”
“What about it.”
“Are you still taking illegitimate sons as clients?”
The tone was casual, but Lee Jaseung did not miss the tension coiled inside it.
“As long as the fee is right. Why—did you get interested?”
“Just…… this whole thing left me with a lot to think about.”
Seo Minjae chose his words carefully.
“Honestly, if you hadn’t tipped me off about the corporate bonds, I would’ve taken the fall again. That’s how it’s always been. When Seo Minju fails, I get the blame. When a deal is dangerous, I get thrown in. And if it somehow succeeds, she takes the credit. I’ve been clawing my way up, but in the end I just feel like the family idiot.”
Listening to the complaint, Lee Jaseung frowned.
……Why is this bastard suddenly getting all gloomy and talking nonsense by himself?
He decided to correct the basic facts first.
“The idiot is your CEO.”
Seo Minjae answered flatly at the sudden insult to his father.
“……Uh, that CEO is my father?”
But Lee Jaseung meant every word. The biggest villain in that household was Chairman Seo. Seo Minju’s hostility was only natural. If an illegitimate half-brother suddenly appeared and tried to steal your place, anyone would turn defensive. And Chairman Seo had never taken Seo Minjae’s side either. The reason Minjae was in this miserable position was entirely his father’s fault. The sole achievement of the man’s lower half had been increasing the population by one.
Of course—
Not my problem to care about.
He simply needed to exploit the dynamic to its fullest. Lee Jaseung pointed out the second fact.
“Your role at Seo Seong Securities is the meat shield.”
“……Hey.”
“It’s true. Every dangerous, thankless post gets dumped on you. An ordinary executive would already have been fired, but you’re third-generation, so they can’t even fire you.”
Lee Jaseung carved into him with pure fact.
……Is this bastard trying to pick a fight?
Just as the thought formed, Lee Jaseung continued.
“So use that role to the absolute maximum.”
“Huh?”
“When you pull it off, the reputation comes back to you. Walk into a dangerous seat and deliver results, and those results get valued that much higher.”
“You think that’s easy?”
Lee Jaseung smiled.
“You’ve already done it. Landing the first deal in PBS. And honestly, being the illegitimate son gives you certain advantages.”
“……?”
Confusion spread across Seo Minjae’s face. The position of illegitimate son had always meant extra conditions. You’re the bastard. Therefore you have to do more. How could that possibly be an advantage?
“What are you talking about? How is being illegitimate an advantage?”
“Yuseong Securities issued corporate bonds to prop up failing affiliates. How do you think public opinion reacts to that?”
Seo Minjae fell silent for a moment. Imagining the financial headlines was not difficult.
“A financial subsidiary abandoned neutrality and covered for its own family?”
“Exactly. That puts Seo Minju at a disadvantage. Legitimate third-generation chaebol—she looks like part of a corrupt system. But the illegitimate son’s position?”
Lee Jaseung’s mouth curved.
“Only half. The dirt only sticks halfway. Depending on how you position yourself, the image can flip completely.”
He spoke with absolute certainty.
“Seo Minjae, you are not at a disadvantage.”
Seo Minjae’s eyes wavered.
So that’s what “half” meant? The illegitimate status I thought was a chain around my neck was actually a weapon……?
It shouldn’t have made sense, yet somehow it sounded plausible. And more importantly—he wanted to believe it.
“Haha.”
Something about it was so absurd he burst out laughing. The words were sweet. The problem was that even knowing they were sweet, he still wanted to believe them. He felt half-enchanted without meaning to be.
Watching his expression, Lee Jaseung smiled faintly.
“Well? Want to sign a contract?”
This time Seo Minjae did not hesitate.
Yuseong Group.
Chairman Lee Jeonghwan had been watching Lee Jaseung’s every move. The boy’s actions were anything but ordinary. First he had kicked Yuseong Securities to the curb, then abruptly renounced his shares. Beyond that, he had liquidated every last Yuseong-related asset. In a mere three months he had severed every remaining link to the group. Almost as if—
He knows something.
After that, Lee Jaseung had joined hands with the illegitimate son of Seo Seong Securities and begun investing. The results were impossible to ignore; the rumors had flooded the entire financial industry.
— He predicted the U.S. credit downgrade perfectly!
— Returns over a hundred percent!
— Lee Jaseung has inside information from S&P!
A chill ran down Lee Jeonghwan’s spine.
He already knew there was a problem at Yuseong Securities.
He was certain of it. Using the exact same event—the U.S. credit downgrade—Lee Jaseung had struck gold while Yuseong Group was collapsing in agony.
Yuseong Group conference room. Lee Jeonghwan and the presidents of every affiliate sat around the table. Terror filled the eyes that stared at the financial reports.
Lee Jeonghwan asked, “What’s the status of the corporate bonds?”
“Chairman…… the situation is extremely bad.”
U.S. Treasury yields functioned as the global benchmark rate. As investors poured into safe Treasuries, those yields had fallen. Conversely, high-risk corporate bonds were being dumped, sending their yields soaring. The gap between Treasury yields and corporate yields—the credit spread—had therefore widened. The wider the spread, the higher the probability of default. And Yuseong Group’s spread—
“The spread has widened to 7 percent. It’s effectively junk-bond territory. The rating agencies have already informed us they will downgrade us to BB+ shortly.”
“……Junk bonds.”
In the corporate bond market it was as good as a death sentence. Institutional investors were not allowed to hold junk. They damaged capital adequacy ratios, so the bonds would be sold off at once.
Chairman Lee Jeonghwan closed his eyes and leaned back against the chair. He scrubbed his face with both hands, then opened his heavy mouth.
“What’s our cash position?”
“Essentially zero. The liquidity ratio has fallen to 0.7, and five hundred billion won in corporate bonds mature in September. We’re already worried about next month’s payroll.”
“What about Yuseong Securities? Can’t they just issue new corporate bonds and refinance?”
Urgency bled into his voice. Refinancing—the classic roll-over. For years Yuseong Securities had been the group’s reliable cash faucet, issuing fresh bonds or attracting overseas investment money whenever crisis struck. But the CFO shook his head.
“Actually, Yuseong Securities is in the worst shape of all. As every Yuseong Group bond they hold has gone bad, their BIS ratio has dropped below the legal minimum. Refinancing is impossible. Frankly, even if we issued new bonds, no one would buy them.”
Because—
“The Financial Supervisory Service has notified us they are launching a special audit.”
He finished bitterly, watching Chairman Lee Jeonghwan’s face collapse.
“Chairman, you need to prepare for the investigation.”
The Yuseong Securities financial fraud scandal. Lee Jaseung first encountered the news on television.
“Same numbers.”
Forty thousand victims. One trillion won in losses. But this time one thing was different. At the center of the storm stood not himself, but his uncle.
Beginning with Yuseong Securities, every Yuseong Group affiliate filed for court receivership. All except one.
Yuseong Steel alone was left standing.
Yuseong Steel was no ordinary affiliate. It was the founding company established by his grandfather—the core axis of the group’s tangled ownership structure. Control of Yuseong Group revolved entirely around this single firm. In the end his uncle would abandon even Yuseong Steel and decide to dissolve the group.
That’s a year from now, of course.
But there was no particular reason to wait a full year. Lee Jaseung intended to accelerate the timeline. What he needed was a change in strategy. More precisely, he needed people—people in the right positions who shared common interests with him.
Conveniently, one of those people was walking into the penthouse right now.
Seo Minjae.
The two of them had agreed to sign a new contract today. Lee Jaseung set down a contract that had already been reviewed by a law firm.
“From now on I’ll help with your succession. This contract remains in force until every last one of the two hundred billion won in Yuseong Group corporate bonds is cleaned up. Read it.”
“And what do you take as compensation?”
“Nothing.”
Seo Minjae eyed him with deep suspicion.
“Lee Jaseung working for free?”
“Can’t friends do each other that much of a favor?”
“Yes, yes—Forbes just named that the Bullshit of the Year. So you’ll just help yourself to whatever you want later, is that it?”
Lee Jaseung only smiled.
Nothing in this world was free. When something was offered at no cost, it usually meant the other party was the product.
Consider it carefully. Yuseong Group would be dismantled. And it would be dismantled under crushing debt. At the time of dissolution the revealed debt ratio would stand at 600 percent.
And Seo Seong Securities became the lead creditor.
All thanks to Seo Minju’s failure to sell the Yuseong Group bonds. A lead creditor held absolute say in every decision. That was exactly why he needed Seo Minjae.
Having finished signing every page, Seo Minjae asked, “All right, so what am I supposed to do now?”
“Announce that you’ll personally clean up the bad corporate bonds sitting at Seo Seong Securities. Then walk in as the creditors’ representative.”
“Huh? You want me to join the creditors’ committee?”
Seo Minjae looked startled. That path was the shortest route to becoming the designated scapegoat.
“The recovery rate will be pathetic. Average recovery sits around 20 percent. Invest two hundred billion and recover forty billion if you’re lucky—and if I’m the one who has to answer for it, I’m finished.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll make sure you recover it.”
“How?”
“I’m going to force the sale of Yuseong Steel.”
“……?”
Seo Minjae’s brain briefly blue-screened. What the hell was this guy saying now? Yuseong Steel was the group’s founding company, its very identity.
“Sell Yuseong Steel? That would dissolve the entire group.”
“Exactly.”
And once again Lee Jaseung spoke with the calm of a man explaining the most self-evident fact in the world.
“If you sell the whole group, money comes out.”
“…….”
※ This work is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, place names, and events appearing in the story are entirely fictional and bear no relation to any real-world counterparts. Specialized knowledge described herein has also been restructured and dramatized to fit the narrative and may differ from actual information.