I'll Stake Your Life

It was exactly the kind of situation that brought Mike Tyson's famous line to mind.

"You fucking bitch…"

"I was startled. Why are you swearing at me?"

"If it were you, wouldn't you swear after getting smacked?!"

Because she'd hit him.

He'd never imagined that simply showing up at his junior's place would earn him a slap across the face.

"I'm sorry I hit you, but—"

"Then why do something you have to apologize for?"

"What is this all of a sudden? No call, nothing. I didn't hear a word about you coming over."

Admittedly, barging in had been a little high-handed. But once you close a door, there's no way to open it again. And besides—

She might be wearing nothing but panties.

It happened sometimes. Girls who couldn't stand having a scrap of fabric on them at home. Morning hours made the odds decent enough. Even if not, the view was still worth it. A plain white T-shirt did wonders for the imagination. Shame about the lack of dolphin shorts, though.

"That's what you get for skipping class."

"…"

"I came because I figured you and your boyfriend were going at it like monkeys all day."

"Why would you even say that?!"

The hit landed just as hard on the Pokemon Trainer. His unannounced visit had clearly thrown her into complete disarray.

If a friend showed up, it could turn into a threesome.

Assuming the guy was a certified alpha stud, that is. So he'd come in that friend's place. Other kinds of threesomes were welcome too, for the record.

"I was just… home."

"Going through your storm-and-stress phase?"

"I have personal reasons, okay?!"

"Bullshit. You got wrecked on stocks, didn't you."

"…"

Unfortunately, she was living a lukewarm little life. Twenty years old. In that fresh, green season of youth — how do you not meet a single guy? Especially with a body built for reeling them in. The only talent at this school he'd ever recognized. And somehow her self-care had gone completely to hell.

"That's not it…"

"Then show me your account."

"I don't want to."

"Aigoo, give me a break."

Her long hair hung limp and greasy. That once-narrow waist looked a touch softer, a little less defined. The cause was right there — no need to even turn his head. Sprawled messily across the computer desk.

"You've been mainlining ramen all day staring at the order book, haven't you."

"…"

"And does that magically give you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠skills you never had? Does a falling stock suddenly climb? You half-ass it and just dig the hole deeper."

Apparently he'd nailed it. She whipped her head away and locked eyes with the innocent monitor instead. The screen was on. HTS was open — so she'd planned to trade today too.

"Look at that. How deep are you underwater?"

"…I don't want to show you."

"I'm not trying to mock you. Just show me."

"Ah—!"

Looking for himself was easier. Her hand shot out in a panic, swiped empty air, and missed him completely. She didn't even have the strength to stand — she slumped right back down. Judging by the state of her, she'd taken a serious beating.

Huh. Not that bad.

She'd been wearing the face of an apocalypse heroine who'd already lived through the end of the world, so he'd braced for something catastrophic. It wasn't that desperate.

"It's fine. Not that bad a situation."

"R-really?"

"Really."

"If I just wait… will it go back up?"

"That I don't know."

"…"

By industry standards, you needed unrecoverable debt before anyone started saying poor thing.

You've got to mess with futures until you're ready for Squid Game before people go, ah, you're fucked.

Thirty percent and she's throwing a tantrum? Besides, women had a recovery option men didn't — one good crash and they could still bounce back.

"Guys have to sell a kidney or a liver. Girls can just sell their bodies. So it's not that bad a situation."

"D-don't say creepy things like that!"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

Wall Street daily life. People blew up their accounts, bet their last scrap of capital, and when even that failed, put gravity to the worst possible use — every single week. The real stories behind the movies barely needed retelling; saying it out loud was a waste of breath. Watching those people, you couldn't help thinking—

Should've just sold smiles from the start.

The only reason he'd hit her with a sex joke was frustration. Some amateur cosplaying as a trader.

"Don't. I'm seriously in trouble."

"Of course you're in trouble. You thought losing money on stocks was like game currency — reset the next day?"

"…"

He'd seen how this went far too many times. Ideal versus reality. No industry had a wider gap between the two.

Aigoo.

Normally she'd fire back line for line. Now she was completely deflated. This was the real thing — not fake. Actually invest, and you find out real fast whether the world is easy or not. Leave her alone and she'd pick the right path on her own. Good grades; finance work would suit her fine.

"So I won our investment war? For the record, I'm up."

"…"

"Hey, say something!"

"…"

To her, it was apparently serious. Realizing your talent was garbage early and dropping the dream wasn't a bad road either.

At this rate my conscience is going to keep me up at night.

Anyone watching would think he was bullying an industry junior. She'd chosen to invest and failed on her own. Stock streams said it every time, didn't they? Investment info is for reference only — the judgment and the consequences are on you.

Thud. Thud.

At her age, that weight could hit hard. 2.7 million won. For a twenty-year-old, not a small sum.

"My parents gave me that money so I'd study hard."

"Money with a story and easy money are the exact same thing in the stock market."

"I… what do I do?"

It wasn't a huge amount. Losing that much didn't end a life. But to the person living it, it was deadly serious.

"Maybe I should sell my body to make up for it."

"Huh?"

"Oppa, will you buy me?"

Hair ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a complete mess. From a distance you'd mistake her for a virgin ghost. Up close, she radiated a sensual, decadent beauty. That tilted, watching gaze almost looked like an invitation. The urge to wet those cracked lips—

"I—I'll b…"

"I'm kidding. Still, I've got to pay it back somehow."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Ahem! Right. You should."

He wasn't twisted enough to exploit his junior's misfortune. No matter how bad the relationship, you didn't mock someone when they'd lost money — the unspoken rule among investors.

You can actually catch a knife and die for that.

She didn't look like she had the energy for it anyway. Shoulders slumped, eyes completely empty. She probably couldn't lift a finger.

"Hey."

"…What."

"You stink."

"What a rude thing to say!"

"I'm serious. You smell."

Meaning she hadn't washed. Two people in a cramped room — hard not to notice. Color flooded her face; life returned to her eyes. Self-conscious, she sniffed her own arm and shoulder.

Not that you'd actually smell yourself that way.

You never catch your own scent. At least he'd made her aware of it.

"I'm going to shower."

"Heading to school?"

"You leave too, senpai. Anywhere. Just go."

"Yeah, I'll head out soon."

She gathered a change of clothes in a clumsy heap and disappeared into the bathroom. Embarrassed, no doubt — far worse than any sexual shame. Nothing wounded an investor's pride like announcing their own losses.

She'd hide in a mouse hole if she could find one.

Don't peek!

So she still had the mental bandwidth for nonsense. While she stood blankly under the hot water—

Click, clack!

He peeked. Not into the bathroom. At the Pokemon Trainer's trade history.

Steel stocks, apparently. Posk, Mirae Steel, Donghae Steel — the big three of the steel sector. Ranked first, second, and third in the industry, in that order.

The capital flows are different for each, though.

Just because they were all steel didn't mean they moved the same. They looked similar at a glance, but the details mattered. Trade without knowing that and losses were almost guaranteed. No wonder the account was down thirty percent.

Because she'd been hopping from one name to the next. A classic rookie mistake — almost everyone made it once.

In the jargon, they call it "leveling up."

Huh? This one hasn't run as much. The problem was that institutions already knew every thought a retail trader would have. Getting shaken out meant you could at least think at the average retail level. Nothing to be ashamed of.

Thanks to this, I've got a rough read on the situation too.

A diligently kept trade journal. All that frantic effort from a model student hadn't been entirely wasted.

Stocks. Not like League of Legends. Running a proxy account was completely fine — zero issues.

Professional proxy services include brokerages, banks, insurers, private equity funds, and so on.

There were even national pension funds run by the government. He could stand in for the Pokemon Trainer just fine. A minor formality remained — her consent. Given the urgency of the situation, he boldly skipped it.

The casino was open for business. The moment the market opened, volatility went insane.

Shaking it up and down.

Climbing, bit by bit. Retail traders who'd expected another drop like yesterday got massacred in bulk. Going up today? They bought back in. But what he chose was—

Full liquidation. Buying pressure was curving off. The order book was rearranging itself.

From the receiving end: What the hell? They were buying a second ago — why dump everything now?

In League terms: damn, that movement is disgusting.

= The other side is insanely good.

The higher the tier, the better the player, the more fakes they put in their movement. The stock market worked the same way. There was no such thing as a buy or sell without a reason. You needed buyers ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for sellers to exist. The early-session buying pressure was there because—

They're dumping existing inventory while setting up short positions.

A move designed to lure retail. A common pattern on the KOSPI. Predictable from any number of indicators.

The important part came next. After thrashing the market senseless, they'd throw one more curve.

In the jargon, they call this "bottom-fishing."

Buying a crashed stock to catch the rebound. The bread-and-butter style of individual traders. He'd pick from the three names above — whichever showed the stronger bounce and was most likely to attract fresh buying.

Even if I do that.

It wouldn't be enough. The losses were simply too large. Unless he rode a moonshot stock, a day or two of day-trading couldn't recover this much.

−30%.

As her senior, he wanted to restore what he could. Even if the responsibility was hers — he'd been the one who dragged her into live trading.

Click, clack!

For that, a minor consent was required. Given the gravity of the situation, he skipped that too.

I'll bet your life.

He used leverage.