The Price of Lies

A bull market.

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It was a time when stocks rose no matter what you did. A stretch when most investors could actually make money.

The market was drunk on euphoria. Share prices that had briefly stalled after the coin crash were already rocketing back, reclaiming and then surpassing every previous high.

At the center of it all sat, of course, Osung Electronics. The number-one market-cap company on the KOSPI. No—there simply was no comparison. Calling it the face of the Republic of Korea was no exaggeration.

It had climbed without pause for the last two years. Stretch the chart and the line had pointed up for thirty. The faith that even a temporary dip would reverse itself—that was why countless investors chose Osung Electronics.

When the market-cap champion kept rising, every other stock caught the trickle-down. The KOSPI printed fresh highs day after day. For anyone who traded, it felt like heaven.

Hard. Gambling. Those were the words every Korean heard about the stock market. Yet once you actually tried it—nothing to it, right? People who made money in stocks suddenly looked ridiculous.

Half joke. But the other half was genuine. Confidence swelled. Even the investors they once idolized no longer looked special.

That was the mood hanging over everything. In a bull market, profitable investors became common. The prestige of the successful ones diluted. Interest in them quietly faded—until.

A jackpot of historic scale had just detonated.

09Lady hit limit-up day after day. The price had already climbed past five times the IPO offering, yet—

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.

.

Ironically, no one had actually locked in a profit. Not even in the women-centric community that had piled in first.

Exit ramps had been plentiful. But people ruled by desire, people locked in confirmation bias, always hesitated. One hundred thousand became eighty thousand. Eighty thousand became sixty. The lower the price fell, the tighter they clung.

Regret only piled higher. The peak moment when their accounts had ballooned refused to leave their heads. Eventually they held out of sheer spite. How much money I could have made. And then there was the hive mind—drawing strength from everyone else in the same community.

It ended the way every pump-and-dump ends. Contrary to every hope, the share price refused to rise. Instead it free-fell at terrifying speed. Any rational person already knew that was inevitable.

"W-why did I do that!"

Hong Ye-seul was wailing inside the CEO's office. The words escaped her mouth before she even realized it. How could they not? The moment she saw the limit-up candles she had started buying again that very day.

If I just hadn't averaged down I wouldn't even be in the red. No—I should've dumped the second I was up. Ahhh, fuck…….

Desire. Very few people can simply cut themselves off from it. Especially after watching an account swell.

At one point market cap had brushed four hundred billion. That was why she had casually poured ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in tens of billions. Money had started to feel like a joke. She had told herself this was just pocket-change side income.

If I wait, will it climb again? Or if I hire another operation…….

It felt like waking from a dream. Once the losses ballooned into the astronomical, the truth hit her. There was no way. She knew better than anyone how much of a sandcastle this company really was.

Tap, tap!

It had been nothing but a pump. Hong Ye-seul dialed the illicit stock manipulator with the desperation of a drowning woman grabbing at straws.

"Huh? Didn't you do the same company again last time?"

"I said I don't."

The losses of greed-bloated investors had to drop, intact, into the pockets of the operators.

Profit came in lighter than the model. Some of the guys dumped at the top right alongside us.

When a stock explodes, people start getting ideas. Oh Seok-hyun had seen it before—insiders turning traitor. Maybe that hadn't happened this time, but there was no reason to shoulder the risk for free.

"Think the woman CEO dumped on us?"

"Who knows."

"If she didn't……"

"Don't get sentimental. These bait-and-switch issues only last so long anyway."

The MeToo movement was still generating heat, true. But its actual impact on a company's growth was limited.

Not many people can spot that while standing in the middle of the frenzy.

And anyone who could would have already sold. Doubling or tripling was never normal to begin with. Whoever had piggybacked on the ride—there was no way to find out, and no point in asking.

"We're really lucky, honestly."

"About what?"

"When the volume suddenly dumped I nearly shit myself, but the women's community kids caught all of it……"

"Of course they did."

"Sir?"

A train that has already left the station. In the world of stocks, nothing is dumber than trying to chase it. For all his rough edges, he was still a former top-five securities house man. Oh Seok-hyun smoked and killed the last of his regret.

In the end it's a market that eats the stupid ones.

As long as someone dumber than you exists, you never go hungry. In that sense, this one had been perfect. The women's community. They sat around congratulating each other on how PC they were and swallowed every absurd claim whole.

"Still, maybe this time they'll finally wake up?"

"Them?"

"They took a real financial hit…… kind of like shock therapy."

The subordinate's words were hopeful. Reality was darker and thicker than that.

"You know what the real price of believing a lie is?"

"Getting manipulated?"

"That's one-dimensional."

"?"

He mashed the finished cigarette into the ashtray. The blank look on his subordinate's face suggested the kid had no interest in prestige dramas.

PC is right. It must always be right. Therefore the stock price must rise. That was how they had reasoned themselves into never selling. Would taking a loss change their minds?

Their lives are already ruined—what else can they do? They'll just keep living forever, satisfied with the fiction they built, cheering for it.

That was the price extremists paid.