Hunting

Hunting.

Graduation.

"You'll be spending the final year of your college life this year as well..."

It was no longer someone else's problem.

He was already in his third year of university, after all.

I've been stuck in this dump for three years already.

No—four. Counting the time before he enlisted for military service, that was about right. Some people stuck around even longer, chasing master's degrees and whatever else.

"What about going on to graduate school? I could look after you until you earn your degree."

"You want me to be a slave?"

"Hmph! Calling it slavery is rather hard on the ears."

"But that's exactly what it is."

"..."

In reality, it meant nothing. If it led to some prestigious research post, there might have been fulfillment in it—but most of the time, it was unnecessary.

Most of these jobs used to be done by high school graduates in the previous generation.

The work simply wasn't that difficult. Credential inflation. With so many college graduates flooding the market, companies had simply raised the bar.

"You're not entirely wrong. But there's no harm in earning a doctorate, is there?"

It wasn't just Korea. The same phenomenon had swept through the United States, Europe, Japan—the entire Western world.

Though Korea does take it to an extreme.

Professor Choi Myeong-cheol. Even the man who had once launched a Water Rocket wasn't wrong about this. Frankly, it was conventional wisdom. In South Korea, no business card carried more weight than an academic pedigree.

"I'm considering dropping out, never mind graduate school."

"Dropping out?!"

"Work keeps piling up, and just showing up for class is becoming a burden."

It simply wasn't a world where that kind of thing paid off. Among American investors, there was a kind of superstition:

If you want to know whether a company is worth investing in, check whether the founder dropped out of college.

Steve Jobs, Mark Zuckerberg, Bill Gates—the famous big-tech founders had all dropped out. It wasn't pure coincidence. They had wanted to burn through their golden twenties rather than waste them.

"Having a graduate like you come out of this school would boost the juniors' morale, wouldn't it? For their sake, at least..."

"That's their perspective."

"..."

"From mine, there's nothing in it for me."

The advantage an academic pedigree provided simply wasn't worth the time spent sitting in classrooms.

Well, not really—not for them.

Those American founders had been born into every possible privilege. Korean society didn't work that way. Blood ties, regional connections, school ties—they weren't listed as the three great networks for nothing.

He was putting those school ties to use. The club Hye-ri ran was flourishing.

That's why I went to college in the first place.

There had been a clear purpose. Recruiting talent was the hardest part of building a company.

"Hmm... given the work you're doing, and the fact that you're a graduating senior, I'll see to it that your grades are taken care of."

"There are other lectures too."

"I'll speak to the other professors as well, so don't worry. Everyone has high expectations of you—there won't be any objections."

Vast capital. Brilliant ideas. Even with both, nothing moved without people. Conglomerates didn't donate to elite university foundations out of charity. They needed slaves who met the company's standards.

That's what they need.

In that sense, this was a fine country. Credential inflation meant you could work high-grade slaves for cheap. You just couldn't work them as freely as graduate students. It was a performance system—pick the cotton, get paid for what you pick.

"As long as my personal time is guaranteed, I suppose I don't need to go as far as dropping out."

"Don't make any impulsive decisions. From now on, make sure you consult with me first."

"Yes."

"And as for graduate school, I really do think you should seriously consider..."

He simply hadn't wanted to waste time. A little intimidation, and the professor came crawling on his own.

Make a moderate amount of money and they call you a vulgar nouveau riche.

Korean society treated money as something base—while wanting to earn it more desperately than anyone. Earn a truly staggering amount, and you earned recognition. Or rather, the more accurate expression was that people couldn't even bring themselves to envy you.

KakaoTalk!

Even the high-and-mighty professors were granting him permission. Word was the microeconomics professor had reluctantly agreed as well.

I'm giving them portfolio advice. The least they can do is this much.

From now on, he wouldn't have to waste time on useless lectures. That time could be allocated elsewhere.

Hye-ri's KakaoTalk messages. There was more to the content. He wasn't unaware of why she was nagging.

Stocks.

The first step was the hardest. Most people starting out made the same mistake. Value investing! They clung to some plausible-sounding theory they'd overheard somewhere as if it were absolute truth.

He was educating the future slaves—teaching them what real stock trading actually was.

Sonik-jwa.

Three syllables no one who traded stocks could fail to recognize.

"Is that for real?"

"The club president said so!"

"Wow, it still doesn't feel real..."

For Hankuk University students, it hit especially hard. The rumors had been circulating since before they even enrolled.

The pride of their school!

Freshmen who didn't even know what their school was supposed to stand for needed a benchmark. Sonik-jwa had become that benchmark. He felt far more real than some CEO, celebrity, or politician they would never meet.

"He's already here?"

"He actually came!"

"Is he good-looking?"

"Well, that's a bit..."

The reason the stock club was packed. Once someone was called famous—once someone was called the pride of the school—you had to see them. It might even become a source of motivation. That was why students from every department were pouring in.

"Stocks are just like hunting."

It was nothing like what they'd expected. In the center of the club room sat a man who didn't look particularly imposing—slouched in a thoroughly lazy posture. Even the words coming out of his mouth sounded nothing like an expert's.

"Hunting?"

"Women!"

"He wouldn't mean it in that vulgar sense, right? He ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠must mean hunting like actual hunting."

"Like needing instinctive gut feelings or something..."

The man they'd seen on the news was supposed to be extraordinary. Among the underclassmen, he had practically been deified. A stock master! A visionary who could read the flow of the market—that was the image. Surely he would be different from ordinary people somehow?

That expectation turned out to be correct—in a way.

"Once you've eaten, throw them away."

"Excuse me?"

"If you date them pure-heartedly, you won't get to eat the tastier ones."

"..."

The meaning was simply a little different. The freshmen's illusions might well have shattered.

"Must be... my imagination."

"That's supposed to be an expert?"

"I think they brought in the wrong pickup artist."

"Senior...?"

That reaction was limited to the freshmen. To those who already knew, the meaning came through perfectly intact.

"The Seer...!!"

Tears welled in both eyes. The stock club seniors were hit by a tsunami of emotion. A standing ovation erupted. The entire atmosphere of the club room flipped in an instant.

Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!

Everything he had done up to now had been more than enough to plant trust. No—they had reached the point where they would applaud even if he took ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a dump. The club room seethed with fervor. They were simply thrilled to have heard a lecture from the legendary Sonik-jwa himself.

"What the hell is he even saying?"

"They've lost their minds for real..."

"This club is weird after all."

That spectacle looked strange in certain eyes. More precisely, it made no sense at all.

He's just some guy obsessed with women.

Seo-eun, a first-year in the Economics Department, couldn't hide her disappointment. She had taken a serious interest in stocks since high school. Her goal was to graduate from Economics and become a top-tier financier.

"What happens when you put women on a pedestal?"

"You get played."

"Stocks are the same. Don't put them on a pedestal."

"Ooooh!"

At the very least, she had never imagined this. The gap between the financier in her mind and the man in front of her was vast—far too vast.

Sonik-jwa or whatever he is.

All he talked about, all day long, was women. Trusting someone like that didn't seem right.

"He's a really weird senior."

"Right?"

"Still, they say he made a ton of money..."

"He probably made it doing weird stuff like that."

Seo-eun's group held a different view from the rest of the club members.

This isn't some cult.

It didn't look helpful in the slightest. Staying would only contaminate her. She wanted to keep her distance from Sonik-jwa.

And yet she had still joined the stock club.

"Where's Senior Sora?"

"Apparently she can't make it today."

"Really? How do you know?"

"She texts with Senior Sora, remember?"

"I'm so jealous!"

Yoon Sora. Seo-eun's role model. She was already walking the path Seo-eun wanted to take.

I'm going to become like Senior Sora.

She would follow that path. The club seniors had given her a rough outline. She had prepared through paper trading. She had learned how to take profits, then jumped into live trading.

"Should we go?"

"Let's just leave."

"I found this really good tteokbokki place last time..."

"Sorry, I'll catch up later."

"Huh?"

She had grown by climbing the steps one by one. If Seo-eun followed the same path, she would be fine.

The popularity, too.

She wanted it. Senior Sora was drawing public attention—appearing on broadcasts and more. Seo-eun wanted that for herself. She didn't have the courage to go on an audition show like Dream Girls, but—

"I made a promise to my viewers."

"Viewers?"

"She streams, remember?"

"You're streaming like Senior Sora?"

A personal broadcast was something she could manage. Seo-eun had started streaming not long ago.

The viewer count and the revenue are still low, but...

Little by little, results were showing. She was getting used to trading stocks. And if she ever posted enormous returns?

Her viewer count would climb. She might even become a topic of conversation—a new stock master had appeared at Hankuk University.