Snow Crab and a Useless Fist

"You're not going in?"

"Nope. Took another day off."

"...Nothing's wrong, is there?"

Something wrong.

There was something. I just wasn't about to say it.

"No. I'm looking around for a new job, that's all."

"Good. Staying at the same company as your ex has to be miserable. Smart call."

So I burned one more vacation day.

The account had doubled the night before. Sleep was never going to happen.

I'd even wired the money out of the brokerage and into another bank. Still nothing wrong with it.

It's real money.

I opened the MTS, the mobile trading app I'd installed the night before.

It was 8:30 in the morning. Thirty minutes left until the Korean market opened.

What was I supposed to do with stocks?

John Lee had said it. Stocks aren't something you buy and sell.

Warren Buffett had said to invest in value.

So the only real answer is to hold for the long run?

Strip out the big KOSPI names and the domestic market was a playground for the operators, investors yanked around by short selling. Calling them investors was generous. Most of the home market was packed with day traders and speculators.

Should I be putting this in the U.S. market?

I was scrolling through tickers when I stopped.

Why does this chart look like that?

HNT. A parts manufacturer with a market cap under a hundred billion won.

Camera modules, and the cycle there had already turned. A name like that wouldn't earn a second glance from most investors. That was normal. No material disclosure. No announcement of a new business either, and yet...

Since the second half of last year the price had lived inside a box, somewhere between 1,000 and 1,300 won. The price wasn't rising, but the volume never quit. Look at the offers alone and it felt like someone was quietly taking every share that came up for sale.

Price ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠flat. Volume climbing by degrees. The classic signature of someone pressing it down and accumulating underneath.

A full year of buying inside the box. The moving averages pressed flat. Volume stair-stepping higher. And then the finished pattern on top of all of it: a double bottom with no upper wick, turning up. An operator's accumulation, complete.

This looks like a rig they spent a year building.

I pulled the chart back up and switched on the 20-day, the 60-day, and the 120-day. Just as I'd thought, the price was being held right on those lines.

Run it through the theory I'd crammed into my head with Speed Reading Master, and the breakout wasn't far off.

Maybe I'd take a bite. Lightly. Forty million won to start.

There was only one rule worth remembering. Pretend the money isn't yours, and wait. Some people, of course, weren't even using their own.

The forty million the 1+1 Event had basically dropped in my lap for free would be the first test.

Money in hand, I took my sister and Yeju out to eat for the first time in a long while.

"We could just eat at home."

"You're the first person I've ever seen complain when someone's offering to pay."

"Hehe— Yeju's happy with whatever Uncle buys. Guess Mom isn't. So what are we eating, Uncle?"

"Snow crab."

"Sn-snow crab?!"

Yeju's eyes went perfectly round.

"Yeju, you know snow crab?"

"Uh-huh! My friends talked about it at kindergarten! They said it's super yummy."

"...Then why didn't you ever tell Mom you wanted some?"

"My friends said snow crab is crazy expensive. Yeju doesn't have to eat the crazy expensive stuff. Yeju likes blue crab too!"

......

Honestly. She had grown up far too soon.

"Mom has money too. From now on, if your friends start bragging, you tell Mom right away. I'll buy you something even yummier than that."

"Yeju's okay. The food Mom makes at home is the yummiest of all."

"Then forget the snow crab. Should we go back to Mom's and eat rice?"

"...... Mom, are you teasing Yeju?"

Yeju's brow drew in. As if rice my sister cooked could ever stand next to snow crab.

"Haha! I'm starving. Let's go eat. Yeju, want Uncle to fly you like an airplane?"

"Uh-huh! I like airplanes."

The moment we stepped into the snow crab restaurant, Yeju's eyes flew wide all over again.

"Whoooa! The snow crab is huge! This is amazing!"

Seventy thousand won a kilo. Three of us, and if we meant to eat properly we'd need a good four kilos. Two hundred eighty thousand won. A tenth of my monthly pay. I caught myself wondering what kind of work the people who ate snow crab actually did.

My sister drifted in beside me and dropped her voice.

"Isn't this too expensive?"

"It's fine. This is exactly when you eat it."

"Still..."

"I said it's fine. Work even gave me a bonus recently, for doing a good job. Come on in. Yeju, you too."

"Okaaay!!!"

We ordered and sat. A little later the snow crab came down on the table, steam curling off the shells, and we started in.

......

A minute ago it had been too much to spend. Now look at her go.

Mother and daughter wore the same expression, neatly cracking legs and working through them.

"Yeju, is it good?"

"Yeah! Super yummy! Yeju's happy!"

"Haha, eat lots. If it isn't enough, Uncle will buy more. We'll get fried rice after, too."

"Uncle is so nice, huh?"

"Jinyeong, stop talking and eat something."

She didn't seem to notice she was the one inhaling it.

"But Uncle!"

"Yeah?"

"Is Dal-dongne a bad word? Yeju likes it. It's got the moon."

"...Why Dal-dongne?"

"At kindergarten my friends made fun of me for living in Dal-dongne."

My sister, halfway through a mouthful, went still. Tears were already bright at the corners of her eyes. This needed handling.

"Yeju, listen to Uncle. Just like you said, Dal-dongne has dal in it—moon—so ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it's even prettier. And every day we get off the bus and climb up together, right? When you look down from the very top, the view is really something, isn't it? Those kids are jealous of you. That's why they tease."

"That's what it was?!"

"Yeah. And if they tease you again, you tell Uncle right away. I'll go over there and scold them properly."

"Okay!!! But Uncle, um..."

"What? Did they tease you about something else, too?"

"No, not that... can Yeju have more snow crab?"

Eyes that clear, shining up at me, hopeful. How was I supposed to say no? She was my niece, not my daughter, but I was starting to understand the old line—that a child is so precious you could tuck them into your eye and it wouldn't hurt.

"Of course. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Excuse me, two more kilos of snow crab— no. Make it three. Steamed, please."

"That much?"

"If we can't finish it, we'll take it home. You'd like that, right, Yeju?"

"Yeah! Yeju really, really likes it!"

We packed what was left and headed home. Full and sleepy, Yeju dozed off on my back.

We were walking back from a good meal, and still my sister's face had gone dark.

"Still thinking about those kids teasing her?"

"Yeah. It feels like it's all because ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of me..."

"It isn't because of you. How many mothers cherish their kid the way you do?"

"Still... if she'd been born with a little more money... she could have grown up somewhere better, eating as much as she wanted of the things she loves..."

"Don't even let that out of your mouth. You think Yeju would be happy hearing it? You know how happy she is just getting to be with you every day."

"...Okay. Times like this, you sound like the older one."

"Then call me oppa. Just once."

"There you go. Fooling around again."

A smile touched the corner of her mouth.

"See? So much better when you smile. And in front of Yeju, especially—don't put a sad face on."

"I know. And the snow crab was really good today. Thank you, little brother."

"Don't thank me. I'm the one living off you. Buying this much is the least I can do."

Still. Kids comparing each other, already, at that age. I'd told my sister otherwise, but I wasn't easy about it either.

Something a coworker had said over coffee at the office came back to me.

They say a parent is a child's mirror. They watch, they copy, and they try it out once they get to kindergarten or to school.

Even so, there was something you had to understand. The real rich take their children away in summer or winter break. Hauling your kids overseas in the middle of the term just means you're going when it's cheap. Off-season. Doesn't it?

The moment Yeju started elementary school, I found myself afraid someone would call her a perfect-attendance beggar.

If I'm going to send Yeju overseas, I'd better make some serious money.

I got home, washed up, and lay down on the bed. Then I turned the phone on and opened the MTS.

More than eight hundred thousand won in a single day.

Eight hundred thousand won. Money I'd have to kill myself for a full week at the company to earn.

No wonder people can't quit stocks.

HNT had broken out of the 1,000-to-1,300 box and was sitting at 1,340. Soon enough the volume would blow out, retail would spot it, and they'd start climbing on one after another.

And then the hot potato would begin. Every won I made, somebody else lost.

More than anything, the responsibility for an investment belonged to the person who made it. I decided to set aside whatever scrap of guilt came with that.

I put the phone down and looked at the status window.

I wasn't expecting much today. Two days ago Speed Reading Master, yesterday the 1+1—good pulls, back to back. By the odds, today ought to be a bust.

Click.

I pressed the button.

A flash—

Light burst, and a new window rose in front of my eyes.

......

Useless. Of course it was.

What did a man past thirty need violence for? I snorted at an ability so ridiculous it left me speechless.

Then my face fell again.

Work again tomorrow...

Going in was one thing. The thought of having to look at those goddamn faces again set my teeth on edge.

...What if I just drove a fist into Team Leader Park's face?

I fell asleep on a fantasy that wasn't going to do me any good.