Chapter 28
Chapter 28
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 28
Chapter Title: Single Mom Yoon Chaewon
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Single Mom Yoon Chaewon.
I sat down at the computer, my mind in a crystal-clear state, and began coldly analyzing the market.
The CPI announcement was just a few days away.
The market was still crushed under the Fed's hawkish stance and poor macroeconomic indicators, gripped by fear.
Today was no different—a down day, as usual.
I first checked our "real estate passbook," where our future was stored.
'Good.'
A satisfied smile crept onto my lips.
Overnight, there had been an even bigger drop than I'd anticipated.
Thanks to that, Bitcoin and Ethereum had gotten nicely snagged in the tight net I'd woven for 13 days out.
Of the planned total position of 102.5 million won, 80% had filled at very satisfactory prices.
The market's fear was handing us more assets on the cheap.
I paused, deep in thought. 'Is now the time to add more?'
The market's fear was clearly overblown.
This looked like the perfect chance to deploy our remaining "reserve funds," lower our average cost even further, and bulk up the position size.
'But...'
I shook my head. 'That's only if my analysis is 100% right—an arrogant assumption.'
What if, just what if, my analysis was wrong and the CPI came in above expectations?
The market would plunge even deeper, and those reserve funds would evaporate.
It wasn't wise to burn our "secret weapon" amid such uncertainty.
"Stick to the plan."
I murmured softly and closed the long-term investment account window.
Then, to earn today's "paycheck," I opened the day-trading account and started scouting new prey.
The market was a sea of red.
Most coins were down 10% or more—a textbook bear market.
In a market like this, there's only one way to make money: 'Steal the gold from a collapsing building.'
I recited the first rule of bear market trading to myself.
'Rush in blindly, and you'll get crushed.
Right before the building fully collapses, there's a brief moment when everything freezes.
That's when you grab the shiniest thing and bolt without looking back.'
In other words, target that 1-2% razor-thin window when a plummeting coin catches its breath for a technical bounce.
This was trading only I could pull off in my crystal-clear state—something ordinary humans, slaves to fear and greed, could never do.
I picked the coin with the biggest drop. Then I stared unblinkingly at its order book and chart.
'Downtrend halting. Selling pressure easing. Buying inflow at support. Enter.'
I hit buy. The price bounced 1.5% the moment my money went in.
I sold at the peak without hesitation.
[Realized P&L: +450,000 won]
I waited for the next building to crumble.
Picked a new one, watched it fall, entered at the perfect moment, and pulled another gold bar from the rubble.
[Realized P&L: +525,000 won]
Buy, sell. I was just a machine, betting mechanically according to the most efficient emotionless algorithm.
I was just a machine, betting mechanically according to the most efficient emotionless algorithm.
This terrifying bear market was nothing but an easy treasure hunt playground for me.
'Easy. Fucking easy.'
I thought to myself as I realized another profit.
'This is what money duplication looks like.'
Honestly, this level of trading didn't even need superintelligence.
Anyone who grinds chart study for a year could do this technical analysis.
Yet only one in a thousand, one in ten thousand succeeds. Why? Simple.
'Greed.'
That 1% whisper of 'It'll go a bit higher.'
That 1% cling of 'Hold a little longer, it'll come back to breakeven.'
That tiny greed wrecks coin traders.
And they keep chasing breakeven, unable to make rational calls or stop trading.
People call it "trading addiction," but not me.
'This is just gambling addiction.'
I reminded myself of that stark truth.
They stare at charts, draw lines, pile on indicators, deluding themselves they're "analyzing" and "investing."
But it's just self-consolation.
Their brains are ruled by the same principle as a casino slot machine.
The thrill of one winning trade.
The euphoria of 'I'm right,' 'I beat the market.'
It's like dope shot straight to the brain.
They can't forget that dopamine hit and hit bet for the next big score.
But one loss wipes it all, spawning hellish withdrawal.
The obsession to "get back to breakeven."
The frantic urge to reclaim lost money from that cruel market.
Those emotions snap the last thread of reason, turning people into impulse-trading monsters.
In the end, their trades have no principles or standards left.
Just the primal instinct to "recover losses," dancing until they burn everything on this 24/7 gambling table.
But I'm completely free of all that now.
No euphoria, no fear, no breakeven chasing for me.
Only the highest-probability choices and my mechanical execution exist.
Savoring this overwhelming superiority, I transferred more of the market's money to my account.
And just like that, I was sucked back into the world of 0s and 1s.
My new routine was rock-solid even in this bear market.
Win rate around 76%. A few quick cuts, but way more profits fattened our "paycheck account" steadily.
I'd been grinding these mechanical trades for hours when a white plate with a peeled peach quietly appeared on my desk.
Perfectly prepped, skin and all.
"...Peach? We have peaches at home?"
Chaewon, who was perched on the bed behind me, chuckled at my question.
"Went out and bought it. You were so zoned in, didn't even notice me leave?"
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah."
Only then did I realize how stiff my body was after hours glued to the chair.
I stretched with a satisfying crack and took a big bite of the peach my "blonde tattooed perfect wife" had prepped.
Sweet juice flooded my mouth.
Chewing contentedly, I glanced absently at Chaewon.
She sat on the bed scrolling her phone, a dopey grin on her face.
'She's always smiley, but what's with that super tender smile?'
Not her usual smirk or gleeful laugh.
The face of a mom gazing at her kid.
A kind of smile I'd never gotten from her.
That unfamiliar look pulled a question out of me before I knew it.
"What's so funny?"
"Oh, Yura sent a video from the kids' cafe. Our girl playing."
...Kids... cafe?
Han Yura—that prickly, people-hating Han Yura—went to a place full of screaming kids?
Cultural shock hit me hard. I shot up from my chair without thinking.
To verify, I sidled up next to Chaewon.
She beamed with 100% pure "mom smile" I'd never seen, offering me her phone.
"Look, isn't our girl the cutest?"
Right then.
Just before facing the kid's innocent face, I clocked my getup.
Naked.
Filthy and gross, still sticky from sex with cum and juices.
A wave of guilt crashed over me.
I jerked my eyes from her phone, scrambled to grab my scattered clothes, and threw them on.
At least cover the dangly dick first.
"...Why the sudden clothes?"
Chaewon eyed my weirdness curiously.
Yanking up my pants, I mumbled.
"Uh... wanna feel human for once? Basic conscience?"
"Huh?"
"Anyway, yeah."
No way I'd behold her daughter 'Haneul' in this naked state.
Once dressed, I finally took her phone.
Hit play on the video, and I had to curse Chaewon out.
"You psycho! Blonde on a 6-year-old? You lost your mind?"
"Why? Doesn't it suit her?"
She shot back innocently, like what’s the problem.
I glanced back at the screen.
There was this porcelain-skinned girl with big eyes and delicate features—anyone would call her cute on sight.
Bouncing gleefully on the trampoline, all smiles and energy.
The issue?
That angel kid's hair was the exact same blinding yellow blonde as her mom's.
Staring at the bizarre sight, I muttered.
"She is cute... fucking cute, but..."
Her tiny body jumping with all her might was just "adorable" and "precious"—no other words.
Just a bad feeling that hair color would lead her down a path apart from the normal world.
I couldn't tear my eyes from the grinning little blonde spitting image of her mom on screen.
Then I thought of the other accomplice who sent the video: Han Yura.
Still in disbelief, I muttered.
"But Yura... going to a kids' cafe? So out of character. Doesn't fit her at all."
Chaewon gave me a weird look.
"What? Yura's super sweet."
"......Yura?"
I asked like it was breaking news. She nodded like duh.
"Yeah."
"Yura?"
At my repeat, she looked genuinely puzzled and asked.
"......Cheolsu, what image do you even have of Yura?"
No hesitation—I dropped my dead-on take on Han Yura.
"Bitch?"
I nodded firmly, like that nailed it.
She looked speechless for a sec.
After cooling my head with that pointless chat, I dove back into the cutthroat day-trading grind.
For hours, I mechanically racked up profits and cuts, earning our team's daily wage.
Evening hit, and Chaewon predictably laid out a neat, tasty dinner.
We ate together, did dishes, then headed to bed for the day's last "task."
I held her from behind, pounding doggy-style to update my Post-Nut Clarity.
But this time, something was off from the afternoon frenzy.
She put on a perfect show to excite me from start to finish, but I never felt her "real self."
In the end, I finished with solo satisfaction.
I must've looked disappointed without realizing.
Seeing that, Chaewon stroked my back softly and murmured.
"I don't cum easily by nature. Don't sweat it."
Her words stirred complex feelings again.
"...No, seriously. You look like a cock-craving slut, but you've got this knack for pricking my conscience."
She blinked wide-eyed in surprise at my gruff words.
"Me?"
"Yeah."
I said curtly.
The devoted mom selling everything for her kid. The succubus seducing men.
Watching her switch faces so casually...
Something inside me kept getting poked raw.