Life's Big Score

Solar-related stocks.

Riding the new administration's green-energy push, share prices were climbing at a blistering pace.

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The leader.

That was the name for the stock within a theme that saw the heaviest, most frantic trading volume. With SCM at the front of the pack, the whole sector was putting on a show. Individual names varied, of course.

Our Hanwa only managed a measly twenty percent……

Everything was rising. The only difference was how much you ate — the fact that you ate at all never changed. The solar sector had every reason to be in the spotlight. But the shareholders were still hungry.

Seven years earlier, a catastrophe had shaken the entire world: the Great East Japan Earthquake — and with it, the Fukushima nuclear disaster. Solar power had surged into the spotlight as the alternative energy of choice.

The technology simply wasn't ready. It wasn't something that could be done at the time. A flash of hype, then buried again. But with today's technology?

A stampede of retail investors was inevitable.

"Three, two…… one! Then we buy?"

"What the hell are you talking about. These days the program does everything for you."

He had been waiting for this exact moment. Kindling tossed down by the state. The moment it began to crackle and catch, the entire nation's attention swung toward the flames.

What did I tell you~.

Kim Min-gu had been quietly accumulating Wizen Energy. And recently, at last, he had gathered a position he could live with.

Two million one hundred thousand shares in total.

The reason you drive a stock higher is so you can dump that mountain of shares. Retail investors only invent reasons after the price has already moved. The Illicit Stock Manipulators exploit that psychology.

They floated the articles. They made sure everyone knew the hottest solar name of the moment was right here.

Matched trading: ON.

And then the finishing move. Attention alone doesn't lift a stock. You need kindling. The manipulators worked the price through matched trading.

The moment Min-gu posted a sell order, fill alerts poured out. On the computer right beside him, alerts confirmed those ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠same shares had been bought.

Okay. Timing's perfect.

Whatever volume the seller listed, the buyer took. Through that sequence of trades, they could rocket the price skyward — all while holding onto those 2.1 million shares. Min-gu's stock simply migrated into a junior colleague's account.

Repeat the sequence. Once the atmosphere turned electric, retail chase-buying poured in and the price blasted off into Andromeda.

In an instant, up twenty percent. The articles had spread as far as they were going to, so more retail would pile on — but this wasn't Min-gu's first scheme.

He understood retail psychology better than anyone.

Time to shake them once right here.

The new arrivals ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had no real idea what kind of stock they were holding. A sudden drop made them nervous. They dumped whatever they were carrying.

"That's when you scoop it all back up — that's what I'm saying~!"

"You're the best, senior! But…… is it okay if I smoke?"

"Once you've put in the years, you can smoke too, you little shit."

Then they ran the price back up. Fooled! The retail traders who felt that sting of regret, seized by break-even psychology, came rushing back in to rebuy.

Hit the daily limit and they'll be climbing over each other to buy.

Five consecutive limit-ups. For the next five days, he would drive the stock to its maximum. After that, he'd start the gentle curve — slowly offloading volume onto the retail crowd. The basic playbook of a scheme.

But retail investors had no capacity to learn. Get burned once, get burned twice — they kept coming back for more.

The scheme stock he'd been watching. Just as expected, the price had rocketed and the profits were enormous.

The problem starts from here.

Trading scheme stocks broke down into two main approaches. One: spot the accumulation and pile in alongside them. Two: nail the exit timing. The manipulators slowly offloaded their hoarded shares onto retail.

Retail traders who'd bought purely because it was going up. They charged in at the first dip — and wept tears of blood. Genuine, tearful stop-losses.

But the real art of a scheme only began from this point on.

This isn't Omega Information & Communications.

The manipulators had accumulated with intent. Their position had to be approaching two million shares at minimum. Dump it all at once? Everyone would think the company was dead and nobody would buy — so they shook it up and down, over and over.

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Scheme stocks especially. They had climbed far beyond the company's intrinsic value. The more rational the investor, the deeper the terror.

But that thing called reason.

Human beings were never rational animals. Anyone who traded stocks eventually learned that truth.

The price climbed again. And just like that, community sentiment flipped in real time.

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I'm never getting scammed! People who thought like that were always the ones who fell hardest for con artists — and this was no different. You could tell a scheme stock just by looking. But the moment you jumped in, the current swept you away before you could even keep your footing.

Those were the manipulators' methods. Flipping them around for profit was a full-time trader's daily bread.

I'm reading the flow too.

It was an extremely dangerous game. Even he wouldn't touch it unless he urgently needed free money printed on the spot. He'd already banked a fat profit — so why?

The reason he still dove into this mess:

You only learn how strong the current is by jumping in. This stock wasn't dead yet.

There's still buying pressure.

Retail kept pouring in without pause. The manipulators still hadn't finished dumping their load. As long as volume stayed hot, it held the spotlight — at least in the Korean stock market.

The stock's fate still wasn't sealed. The community was locked in heated debate.

Whether solar really is the next big thing.

It was all over the news. The president was pushing it. In the short term, prices spiked hard. Only afterward did people start thinking clearly. Would real money actually flow into solar?

He thought it through seriously. Negative information was everywhere, and the price had already run too far ahead.

That's why the correction comes in.

People sitting on profits headed for the exits. The price dropped, panic selling flooded out, and it fell further still. That was called uncertainty — the period when you could buy stocks cheapest in the entire market.

It could go to a quarter of its value.

Once interest in a burning "theme" went cold, the stock bled out in a way that drained the life from you. Not for a month or two — for a year, two years, straight down. The people who knew that were the ones who understood the terror. So they cut their losses even at a loss. That was what it meant to buy into fear.

Tap. Click!

Right on script. Kim Min-gu wore a smile of pure satisfaction.

Some fucking bastard dumped right under the target price.

Five consecutive limit-ups, then a gap-up at the open. He'd planned to crash it straight from that peak. If everything had gone to plan, the profit would have exceeded a billion won. That had been trimmed a little.

Eh, it's fine.

The solar sector was still drawing eyes. Retail investors ready to catch the dumped shares were overflowing. Remaining inventory: 900,000 shares. Right before the coming day of reckoning, he'd fire one massive volley.

On the day the policy under review was announced — that was when he'd target the retail swarming in on pure expectation. Dump every last share on them. And when, as predicted, the government's policy fell apart——

While you lot are sucking down soju, I'll be drinking whiskey.

Kim Min-gu's plan was, without a doubt, perfect.