True Luxury Value Investing
True luxury.
Value investing.
It's a phrase you inevitably hear the moment you start trading stocks.
"You want to become a value investor like Warren Buffett?"
"Yes. Investing, not speculation…"
"That old man isn't even a value investor, though?"
"What?"
It's the most representative investment method out there. Famous people talk about it. The world's greatest investor, Warren Buffett, supposedly said—
If Buffett the old man ever heard that, he'd be speechless.
He never actually said it. Analysts and book peddlers just made it up however it suited them.
"I'm pretty sure I read it in a book, though."
"Did you hear it from the man himself?"
"Well, no, but in the book… hic!"
"Look carefully at who wrote that book. It wasn't Warren Buffett. It was somebody else."
Writers who'd attended Buffett's lectures padded them with their own imagination. Or they simply wrote the stories the public wanted to hear.
Those bastards who write books like that all deserve to die.
Just hold forever and you'll make money? Of course beginners fall for it. Analysts love spouting the same line, too. The intrinsic value of a company is this and that—while they themselves are too scared to invest a single won. All mouth, no action.
"Analysts don't invest?"
"They're just securities firm hangers-on. You still don't get that they're salespeople paid by the brokerage to herd clients in?"
The whole point is to get retail investors to diamond-hand their positions. That way the securities firms can move stock prices however they like.
They're distorting the meaning of value investing.
Their own profit is the goal. Even when they simply don't know any better and still run their mouths, it's just as bad.
"Going on about value investing is a mistake people who don't know Buffett the old man make all the time."
"Sounds like you know him pretty well, senior."
"I knew him a little, yeah."
"?"
People who want to avoid risk use it as an excuse for themselves. Value investing isn't that.
The way Warren Buffett actually made his money was junk stocks and leverage.
It's a surprisingly little-known fact—how young Buffett made his fortune in his early days. Simple. Just like young traders today: he piled into speculative trash stocks and cranked the leverage to the absolute limit.
"R-really?"
"If it's true, can I kiss you?"
"That's a completely separate— aah♡"
Her mind was fogged over. It must have felt like a thick mist had settled inside her head.
When she shuts her mouth, she's ridiculously cute.
He sat propped against the headboard, holding her tight. He pulled her face in and claimed her lips.
"That was mean. I told you not to."
"Sora's just too cute. That's why."
"Ugh~ Then you have to teach me properly, okay?"
"Oppa will teach you everything, from one to ten."
He stroked her belly gently. Whether it had been trained a little already or not, every firm press drew a reaction.
Warren Buffett's investment philosophy starts with a critique of mainstream economics.
British and American economic theory. Investors of the old days were conservative, self-important creatures. They always made rational decisions. All information was already priced into the stock.
"Mainstream… economics?"
"Yeah. Drink some mainstream. Wet your throat with a glass."
"Mm."
He poured her a glass of whiskey. Judgment already clouded, she accepted it and drank without protest.
This is how irrationally the market actually moves.
Buffett looked at the market from a different angle. He evaluated a company's intrinsic value—not PER or PBR, but something more fundamental. Not present value, but future value.
"There we go. Good girl, drinking it all."
"It's strong."
"You said you wanted to learn. You have to drink your mainstream economics."
"Hic!"
He weighed business direction and the quality of management. What he himself was doing aligned perfectly with Warren Buffett's investment philosophy.
Haa~
Sora was smoking a cigar with surprising relish. After a few puffs she had already picked up the knack of the outer leaf. She swallowed. She drank the whiskey, too. She was learning decadence.
This is a kind of investment as well. Claim them as mine while they're still young.
Warren Buffett's method isn't about finding a girl who looks pretty without trying. He analyzes a girl who is already beautiful and whose future is bright. He gives the woman with the highest growth potential the greatest opportunity to grow. That is where the market's money floods in.
"Taste good?"
"Dunno."
"You'll know soon enough. Oppa will teach Sora everything."
"Mm!"
He was never a traditional value investor. It was more accurate to call him a forward-looking one.
He understands risk perfectly, and only swings the bat when he needs to.
In his youth he threw himself at the market aggressively. Once he got older, the need disappeared. Why? Because he had an obscene amount of money. No reason to use leverage, so he simply didn't.
"The only book Warren Buffett actually writes himself is the shareholder letter that comes out every year at the start of the year. A kind of letter he sends to the investors of Berkshire Hathaway."
"Share… holder letter?"
"Can I touch Sora's soft little tits a bit?"
He wanted to swing the bat himself. He held back and contented himself with kneading her breasts.
That necklace sits so prettily on her.
It had been worth gifting her something expensive. It nestled in the spit-inducing valley of her cleavage. When he cupped her breasts and pushed them apart, the diamond caught the light. The thought of what else he would give Sora next made him stir.
Truth is, that jeweler…
…had some rather perverted hobbies. He was excellent at making piercings for special places.
"Nn… ah! Aah!"
Sora's nipples. Even through the T-shirt they were easy to feel. He pinched and twisted, and she cried out.
He takes custom orders beautifully.
He had been one of the man's regular clients in the past. Even when the requests got a little extreme, the pieces always came out exquisite. That had become the jeweler's identity and made him famous, so it wasn't exactly an imposition.
Anyway.
"Sora, do you like the necklace?"
"Mm! Ah, aah…"
"Oppa will definitely get you a matching top-and-bottom set."
"Aahng♡"
A full set currently ran to several billion won. Buying early was always a good deal.
Her chest is tempting. Maybe I'll settle for a navel piercing next.
Someday he would put them all on her.
"Ugh… my head."
Late at night, Sora returned to her studio apartment. Even after sleeping it off at her senior's place, her skull felt ready to split. Because of the cigar. He had explained later that it was hundreds of times stronger than a regular cigarette.
Why would anyone smoke something like that.
The first time her head had gone hazy like that. If doing drugs felt anything like this, that was probably the sensation. Cigarettes did contain narcotic compounds, after all. Maybe that was why her memories after smoking were so blurred.
"You were so wasted you even drank…"
That tracked. Apparently she had gotten completely hammered and cracked open one of her senior's expensive bottles of whiskey.
I had no idea it was that strong…
Strong times strong. Her memory had been wiped clean. She had made a complete scene and then passed out cold, he said. When she touched the pillow there were even traces of drool. She had no face left to show her senior.
Huu~
A sigh escaped her already. In the breath she exhaled, she caught a familiar scent.
It smells like senior.
Because of the cigar, no doubt. The vicious smoke still lingered in her mouth.
Huu~
Sora slumped forward onto her desk. She breathed out against the surface she was pressed to. The scent hit her more directly. At first it had only been harsh and unpleasant.
Squelch.
Something about it was exciting. Without realizing it, her right hand slipped between her thighs.
I just finished my period. Why am I like this.
Masturbation once a month, max. She had set that rule for herself—bad habits shouldn't go further. Keeping the vow was getting hard. She simply could not stop the hand that moved on instinct.
Squelch.
She stroked the place that felt good. Tonight her body was running hotter than usual.
Kissing senior felt good…
The recent memory surfaced. He had said it was an emergency, so she had no choice but to allow his lips. Truthfully, she had been curious too. She had only ever heard what kissing a man felt like.
"Haa… haa…"
It hadn't tasted like lemon. The sweetness was a lie, too. Something more feral. Closer to the feeling of eating grilled lamb ribs.
Squelch. Squelch.
It was addictive. The first time she had been pushed into it, but after that she had wanted it herself.
Senior grabbed my chest like this, didn't he.
Just flesh that felt like nothing when she touched it herself—only ticklish. When senior touched it, it was different. Heat bloomed low in her belly and a strange sensation pricked through her whole body.
"Nngh…!!"
Somehow a similar feeling was rising now. Her breath shortened, and the cigarette smell stabbed sharper into her nose. Pleasure. It ran through her body harder than usual. Even the tightness in her chest seemed to loosen. Before she knew it she had thrown off her bra and moved into round two—of the bad habit she had sworn to do only once a month.
Why? Touching myself never felt good before.
She was doing it two times in a row. Kneading her own breasts with both hands felt better than between her thighs. It was as if her body already knew. Pleasure was bursting from inside the soft flesh.
"Haa… haa… haa…"
Sora's body shuddered. At the same time she dragged in the breath she had been holding, panting wildly. The desk surface she had nearly been kissing was wet with moisture. She had done that herself.
I'm sorry, Mom. Dad.
She had done something wicked. Living alone in a studio had made her soft. And that man was part of it, too. If she had never learned what a kiss—that stimulating act—even was—
Gulp.
—she never would have felt this strange. Just recalling it made her lower belly heat up again.
"I should shower!"
No one was watching, yet she deliberately said it out loud. Without the words she didn't think she could pull herself together. She washed away every trace of the lapse.
But even after the shower, not every worry rinsed off.
Metaphysics, logic, philosophy… and there was more, wasn't there.
What her senior had told her. To become a trader, you needed studies other than economics. Those were more efficient. She had to decide before registering for second-semester courses. Once she committed, there was no taking it back. She might end up beating the ground in regret.
Gulp.
She was ready for that much. To change, you couldn't be afraid of risk. She was aiming to become a trader. Twenty years old. As an adult, she was choosing her own path.
Masturbation once a month… no, maybe once every two weeks.
She was an adult now. That much should be fine.