The Bet 2
Chan-uk's molestation.
For Rachel, it was bound to stir up a strange tangle of feelings.
It still feels like it's stuck in my throat.
He made her swallow something the size of her own forearm. He thrust it in and out so roughly that her jaw ached, her throat ached. And then the fluid. No matter how many times she had already taken it, that bizarre smell still refused to become familiar.
Gack! Gack!
The texture was wrong, too — a foreign residue that clung to the back of her throat. She genuinely could not understand why he made her swallow such a thing.
It doesn't even seem like he wants a child…
She knew what it was. She knew why he asked her to help. Because he could not control his lust. In America it was a major social problem — four out of every ten newborns were recorded as born to unwed mothers. All because of men's irresponsible appetites. The fact that he at least made a rational request of her put this case slightly above the worst of them. And that was precisely why her thoughts grew more complicated. If he had simply overpowered her completely, she would have resolved to hate him for the rest of her life.
I can understand it that far.
She did not know much about the sexual act itself. She could hardly tear open his skull and inspect what was inside. But there was one thing she could not accept: the fact that she had been dismissed as an investor.
If you can make a profit on Korean stocks.
Stocks were her specialty. She was not in a position to take half-baked advice from anyone.
Not even a competition — just "make a profit"? Exactly how little does he think of me?
The terms of the wager had been absurd. Make money trading stocks and you win. Even a complete beginner could manage that with a little luck. For a professional like her, it was never the point to begin with.
Crunch!
The candy she was holding in her mouth — she had been eating it to scrub away the lingering foreign sensation. Without realizing it, she crushed it between her molars. He had stepped over a line that must never be crossed.
It would be nice if he got completely wrecked. So he can never go around doing anything this vulgar again.
He was looking down on her. He thought that because he had won once by luck, that coincidence would simply repeat itself a second time, a third time. No — the actual record was one win, one loss. Of course he wouldn't know that.
If I ever decided to take someone like you seriously…
She was the one who had won during the crypto run. The scale of capital under management was entirely different.
Click. Clack!
This time she would make it unmistakably clear. And she would pay him back for what she had been put through.
✦ Welcome to the Gambler's Canyon! ✦
Last time she had been careless. She admitted it — her research into the Korean market, her understanding of it, had both been insufficient.
I grasped the broad currents, at least.
But now was different. She had finished updating her picture of Korea's current economic situation.
Click. Clack!
With the new information, she calculated fair value. Where the KOSPI stood right now.
It bottomed at 2120 and bounced. But it's still too early to call this a safe zone.
There were many ways to read a chart. The most basic among them was to check the Bollinger Bands — a technical analysis tool developed in the 1980s by American financial analyst John Bollinger. Anchored to the twenty-day moving average, it told you where price currently sat. By that measure, the market was undervalued. Compared against trends in other exchanges, the KOSPI's decline could reasonably be called oversold.
Click. Clack!
That was the exact mistake she had made in her last wager with Chan-uk. For an investor, repeating the same error was nothing short of shameful.
Factoring in Korea's hidden inflation situation…
The sharp hike in the minimum wage. A sixteen-percent increase in a single year was almost without precedent anywhere in the world. Emerging markets sometimes did that when their currency was collapsing. Doing it while the currency held its value was bizarre.
Social unrest becomes possible — and funds that anticipated it may already have placed large-scale bets.
Sure enough, the traces were there. Looking at futures and options positioning from January through June, the footprints remained. Information ordinary investors could never see. She had an information network that made it possible.
Hmph. I wouldn't exactly call this revenge.
He had treated her with that much contempt, after all. Of course she would not overextend beyond this.
Building the portfolio alone was enough. Diversification to reduce risk — a stable approach to investing.
You can do this perfectly well without knowing Korean stocks at all.
The largest conglomerates on the KOSPI. Insurance and financial names that benefited from a rising-rate cycle. Healthcare and telecom — defensive sectors for a recession.
She had chosen names with recognition. Osung, the company that represented Korea, and Helgio, famous for its home appliances — those she knew. Uranus Healthcare had outstanding financial health. Every one of them was a multi-billion-dollar market-cap firm that would not be shaken easily.
Since you decided to provoke me like that…
Even if the downtrend continued, it did not matter. These were the sectors institutions would be accumulating going forward. On the charts, they sat in pullback zones. She had not bought at the highs, so taking a loss was practically impossible.
Even she had to admit it was a little cheap. High returns were hard to expect — but at minimum, she would not lose money.
There was no need to wait on the wager. It was already her victory. She had built a portfolio defensive enough to justify that certainty.
Still… maybe I should leave him one small opening.
A flicker of pity crossed her mind. Perhaps he had proposed the bet knowing full well she would pull it off. His personality was twisted, but he was not a bad person. The Korea he introduced her to was interesting every single time.
Gulp.
Maybe he even had feelings for her. If that was why he kept trying to draw her attention — why he kept molesting her — then it made a kind of sense.
A match is a match. I will not go easy on him.
At the very least, she was interested in the Korea he talked about. Chan-uk's perspective was worth referencing. But as an investor, her capability was superior. She had intended to demonstrate that and seize the upper hand.
The World Cup's progress.
"Yes… Korea was in the challenger's position to begin with."
"We'll have to take this defeat as a lesson and aim for better results in the next match — and the next World Cup!"
After Sweden, the Mexico match had gone poorly as well. The one consolation was that they had at least put a single goal on the board.
"They took that many shots…"
"Ah, for real, what the hell is Sonny doing?!"
"Sonny my ass — more like your Sonny."
A loss was a loss. Disappointment showed on the faces of the students watching, and in every scrap of conversation. Two losses. Unless a miracle happened, the Round of Sixteen was already gone.
"Germany's next?"
"Is Germany any good?"
"You absolute idiot, they're FIFA ranked number one."
"Then we're losing again…"
A third loss was all but certain. Korean fans were not expecting another 2002-style miracle. They just wanted a respectable showing. The consensus was that this year was already finished.
"Waaaah!!"
"Ooooh!"
"I believed in you, damn it~!"
The stock club students who had placed their treasonous bets were going wild, vibing hard. They felt that good. Because they had made money. And for an investor, watching your prediction land was the purest high there was.
"You sell out the country and make money — that feel good?"
"Feels fucking great."
"There's a reason they call me the Brave One!"
As a human being, guilt was possible. Being able to carry that weight was what made an investor. For the stock club members, it did not matter either way — so long as the money came in.
"Ah, man… I should've gone traitor…"
"Ah, I should've gone collaborator…"
"I'm joining the Imperialism and Colonialism Club."
"Absolutely not."
There were people who had lost money, too. They simply could not overcome the pangs of conscience. That faint hope of maybe. They had learned that miracles did not come easily.
"…"
Of all the club members' feelings, there was exactly one person whose expression said she could not relate at all.
"Wah!"
"What are you doing?"
"What is this all of a sudden?!"
"I was just curious."
Rachel was hovering outside the club room door. The moment he set a hand on her shoulder, she flinched hard.
Doesn't seem like she jumped because I touched her.
He knew why. She was not the type to look away over a little casual contact. There was another reason. As the one who had first taught her the circumstances, he could hardly fail to notice.
"How's the bet going?"
"Hmph. Nothing you need to worry about."
"Really?"
"…"
"Then you won't mind showing me."
If she had something to hide, all the more so. The fact that she was posturing instead of just showing him right away sealed it.
I could probably tell just from her face.
A hothouse flower. The more someone usually put on airs of lofty dignity, the faster they lost their reason at the gambling table. He could guess what she had been through. But saying it out loud — that would be the real problem.
"Show me."
"I refuse!"
"You don't want to show me your embarrassing portfolio?"
"…"
He knew he was crossing a line. Among investors, this was something you protected by unspoken agreement.
I want to bite her.
Don't tease her about getting bitten. Witch of Wall Street or whatever else they called her — right now she was in the palm of his hand. She had whipped her head away. Watching that prim, composed face crack was the most fun part.
"You don't want to?"
"I do not."
"Want me to show you somewhere even more embarrassing instead?"
"!!"
"Or I could tell the club kids that Rachel is trading stocks…"
He took a solid step toward the club room door. And the moment he made as if to shout —
"I-I'll show you, so…"
She grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled him back. Rachel had surprisingly cute corners to her, when it came down to it.
Of course she does.
Pride came before everything else. He understood an investor's heart perfectly well. Showing her body was far less humiliating than this. He extracted her permission from her own mouth.
"Didn't I teach you how you're supposed to ask?"
"I don't remember."
"Rachel is trading st—!"
"Ah— ah! I'll say it, so—"
Even the formality mattered. With a woman this sealed off, you had to make her open the door herself.
"Pussy, please."
"Gritting your teeth and saying it in English, huh."
"Hmph!"
"You saying it or not?"
"Ah— ah!"
He started by making her open up.