Chapter 5
Chapter 5
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: The Fading Switch
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"I have to head to class."
While I was mindlessly stacking up profits, Yura said it indifferently.
She got up from her seat without a second thought and slipped on her shoes at the entrance.
There was no trace of excitement on her face from the 117,000 won we'd made together, nor any hint of the daunting task ahead to hit 10 million more.
She was just your average college student, off to tackle her next schedule.
"Uh... yeah, go ahead."
I mumbled back in a daze.
Bam. The door slammed shut, leaving me alone once more in the cramped studio apartment.
Her shampoo scent still lingered faintly in the air.
I sat there blankly for a moment before turning my eyes back to the computer screen.
💰 ASSETS 💰 Total Assets: 592,000 won
⚡ Mine: 355,000 won 💨 Yura's: 237,000 won Staring at the numbers set my heart racing again.
The sensation of Post-Nut Clarity was still hanging on.
Before the effects fully wore off, greed bubbled up—I needed to grow my own money a bit more.
'Yeah. I've got the hang of it now.'
I brimmed with confidence.
Sure, doing that with Yura flipped the switch, but once it was on, the driving was all my talent.
That's what I believed.
I set Yura's investment aside and dove back into scalping with my 355,000 won.
First trade: 2% profit. Clean 7,000 won in the bag.
Second trade: 1.5% profit. Another 5,000 won on top.
"Kuh... yeah, that's right. I can do this."
My shoulders lifted with pride.
Even without Yura, if I could just hold onto this sensation, I could handle it solo, no problem.
But that arrogance didn't last.
The moment I entered the third trade, something felt off.
The chart's 'breathing'—so vivid until now—suddenly faded.
What had felt like a living creature turned back into meaningless red and blue bars.
'Huh?'
In my panic, the coin I'd entered tanked downward.
-3%... -5%... Over 15,000 won in losses flashed in an instant.
"Fuck, what the hell..."
I fumbled in panic and slammed the stop-loss button.
Then, like a lie, the price rocketed up the second I sold.
Classic retail shakeout.
The old me never would've fallen for it.
'It's fine. Just one mistake. I can make it back.'
I grew hasty.
To claw back the loss, I threw even more into the next trade.
But my head had already lost its cool, stuffed with greed and impatience.
The 'sensation' was gone completely. I was back to being the old hopeless Kim Cheolsu.
The results were brutal.
It dropped when I bought, rose when I sold.
Stop-losses piled up, and my account melted away fast.
An hour later.
I dazedly lifted my hands from the keyboard.
💥 ASSETS 💥 Total Assets: 413,000 won
⚡ Mine: 176,000 won 💨 Yura's: 237,000 won In the hour since Yura left, I'd lost nearly 180,000 won of my own money.
More than we'd made together in that first hour—gone in the next one, all by myself.
"......"
Not even a bitter laugh escaped me.
Staring at the blank monitor, the realization hit me to the bone.
The talent wasn't mine.
I was just a machine borrowing ability while the switch was on.
I wasn't the one gripping the wheel.
Without that with Yura, I was nothing but a pathetic dirt-spoon coin scrub, shrinking endlessly before the market.
10.32 million won.
That massive number she'd tossed out crushed my mind.
With her beside me, it had felt like a vague goal.
But now that she was gone and the switch was off, it loomed like a death sentence.
I'd thrown my 180,000 won into the void.
What if she found out? She'd rain down mockery and contempt, demand her 120,000 won back on the spot.
Then it would all be over.
'No...'
I had to get Yura back somehow.
Flip the switch again.
But what the hell could I say?
"I lost money without you, so hurry back and let's do it once more"? No way in hell.
It'd just prove my own incompetence and misery.
I tore at my hair, pacing the room.
Then, one idea flashed through.
Yura was weak to 'money.' And she prized 'efficiency' above all.
I snatched my smartphone. Time for a lie.
An irresistible lure to drag her back here.
I typed a short message, making it sound like the most urgent, critical intel.
📱 Chat with Han Yura [Me: Yo. Chart's going insane right now.] [Me: Feels like a historic opportunity. Gotta jump in now.] I hit send and waited anxiously for a reply.
She might be in class and miss it.
Or just ignore me.
One minute, two... Just as I was about to give up.
Ding.
The notification hit, and her reply sliced back like a blade.
[Han Yura: What is it. Snap a pic and send it.] 'Damn, a pic?'
I panicked.
The charts in front of me were just scars of my failure—miles from any 'historic opportunity.'
I frantically dug through charts for various coins.
I had no clue what I was looking at, but I needed something plausible.
'Got it—this one.'
No real reason.
Just one where the moving averages tangled in a mess and the volume bars spiked ridiculously long.
I snapped a screenshot quick and fired it off to Yura with zero explanation.
After the pic, I started typing bullshit to dazzle her—she knew zilch about coins anyway.
Had to sound like a pro.
📱 Chat with Han Yura [Me: See it? 4H chart—right on the verge of breaking the Ichimoku cloud to the upside.] [Me: RSI's in oversold territory, but price keeps making higher lows. Textbook 'bullish hidden divergence.' Signal that the big players are scaring retail into thinking it's about to dump while they hoard like crazy behind the scenes.] [Me: Thing is, spots like this get liquidated the second your psychology wobbles even a bit. Can't have even 1% greed or fear mixed in. Only enter in that perfectly calm state, like we had earlier.] I threw every fancy term I could muster, desperately hyping how critical and fragile the moment was.
All of it buildup for one final line.
I swallowed hard, poured every ounce of shamelessness into it, and sent the closer.
[Me: So, send some jerk-off material to help me clear my stray thoughts.] Tick-tock... Time dragged.
The 'read' mark on screen felt like the executioner's footsteps crushing my heart.
'Fuck, went too far? She gonna block me?'
Regret and panic surged, the earlier void of despair rearing up again.
Ding.
My heart nearly stopped.
Trembling hands checked the notification.
It was Han Yura.
⚠️ Chat with Han Yura [Han Yura: See right through your bullshit, but I'll bite this once. If my money ain't over 1 million tomorrow, I'm crushing your balls. Got it?] A savage threat.
But seeing it, I let out a massive sigh of relief.
'It worked... she's hooked!'
She'd pierced my lie clean through, but still jumped into this mad gamble.
1 million won.
Her current 237,000 won needed to balloon over fourfold in a single day.
Failure's price: my balls.
No stronger motivation existed.
Exactly five minutes later.
I paced anxiously, then jolted at another ding and grabbed my phone.
A photo file had come through.
I swallowed dryly and slowly tapped to enlarge it.
"......"
My breath caught. A brightly lit bathroom, her sitting on a white toilet with legs spread wide—pure lower half.
Dead center, a raw, unfiltered pussy filled the screen.
This wasn't pro porn.
Clearly snapped on her phone just now—a brutally real photo.
Trembling fingers typed a message.
[Me: ...This your pussy?] [Han Yura: Yeah] [Me: Waxed?] [Han Yura: Nah, natural] [Me: You're nuts?] My mix of awe and shock hit, and she drove the final nail.
[Han Yura: Wanna lick it? Then hustle your ass off.] [Me: Yes ma'am.] Like a private in the army barking roll call, I replied without a flicker of hesitation.
Yura's final message wasn't mere words.
It incinerated every stray thought, fear, and anxiety in my head, leaving just one burning goal—a potent incantation.
I propped the phone screen-up on the desk without turning it off.
Then sat at the computer. Yura watched me from the screen.
The switch flipped on. Fiercer than ever before.
I gripped the mouse.
The charts ahead weren't chaotic bars anymore.
It was the one true path to 1 million won.
The sole road to my balls' safety... and her pussy.
I entered the first trade.
Everything perfect.
"......Huh?"
Against my expectations, it plunged right after entry.
A brutal blue candle raped my account.
-5%... -8%... Over 20,000 won vanished in seconds.
Chaos engulfed me.
'Why? How? It's the same as before! Switch is on—why isn't it working?!'
I panicked, fumbling for stop-loss.
The loss locked in. Dazed, I alternated stares between the mocking chart and Yura's pussy pic on the desk.
Pic... switch... ejaculation...
Then it clicked—every piece fell into place.
The pic wasn't the switch.
Just raw material to flip it. I'd skipped the crucial step.
"Ah, right... gotta jerk it..."
I slapped my forehead.
What an idiotic oversight.
I shoved the loss from mind, scooted my chair back, and dropped my pants.
This wasn't about slaking lust.
A sacred prep ritual for winning trades.
All focus on her photo, hand moving fast and efficient—for the result alone.
A few minutes later, a quick cum and it was done.
Oddly, no emptiness this time—just relief washing in.
With lust drained, that familiar cold, crystalline clarity fogged up my mind.
I slid back to the computer.
The chart that toyed with me moments ago now looked like a docile lamb.
Flows, paths—visible again.
To recoup the recent loss, I kicked off the first real trade.
Flawless results.
In just three minutes, 20,000 won loss covered—plus 5,000 won extra profit.
I caught my breath and eyed the phone on the desk.
"Thanks, Yura."
Now the real start.
A long night toward 1 million.
10:10 p.m. From that moment, I wasn't human anymore.
I was a money-making machine.
Low leverage, no fails, safe.
Surrendered to the chart's flow, scalping endlessly.
⚡ PROFIT ALERT ⚡ [Realized P/L: +3,120 won] [Realized P/L: +2,850 won] [Realized P/L: +4,050 won] Time ceased to exist.
Only the whir of the computer fan and my mouse clicks echoed in the room.
No hunger. No fatigue.
Just the numbers on screen, her photo, and my balls' safety—my entire world.
How many hours passed?
I finally peeled my hand from the mouse and rolled my stiff neck.
Outside still dark, but time had blown past midnight into dawn.
Trembling, I checked the balance.
💰 ASSETS 💰 Total Assets: 785,000 won
⚡ Mine: 176,000 won 💨 Yura's: 609,000 won In hours, total assets up over 370,000 won. Yura's from 237,000 to 609,000.
Still about 400,000 short of the 1 million goal.
The problem was...
My poor dick—whipped raw for hours keeping the switch on—wouldn't obey anymore.
Just throbbing pain left, no trace of the fierce sensation.
Body done, but mind wide awake.
That photo on the desk? No longer a trading tool.
Unlike my spent body, my brain stubbornly spun lewd fantasies every glance.
Post-Nut Clarity's effects ebbed away, replaced by nagging distractions.
Couldn't trade like this.
One move, and I'd revert to the old loser coin scrub, puking all these hard-won gains back to the market.
'Just one more... one more nut...'
Desperate, I fixated on the pic again, hand drifting south.
But my body declared full strike.
Zero response.
Pain just sharpened.
No erection, yet my head swam with craving to lick her natural bush.
Perfect dilemma. Worst-case hell.
"Ah, this fucking sucks..."
I clawed my hair. Needed a fix.
If cumming to drain lust was off the table, erase the thoughts some other way.
Cold shower?
No—too time-wasting. Breaks the flow. So... how?
I pondered, then recalled a primal, extreme tactic.
'The surest way to kill sex drive? Confront disgust and revulsion.'
An old internet gem surfaced.
I steeled myself.
New tab. Typed the URL of a site crammed with humanity's vilest, most grotesque horrors—stuff too vile to utter.
'Yeah... purify with this.'
Eyes squeezed shut then open. Mouse clicked, scrolling began.
The screen unleashed the worst imaginable abominations.
I choked down rising bile, kept scrolling.
The Yura-pussy obsession filling my head withered before these colossal visual atrocities, shrieking into oblivion.
Few minutes later.
Closed the tab, stared blankly at the monitor.
Mind utterly vacant. But not the crisp Post-Nut Clarity.
A hollow, arid void—emotions stripped bare.
I reopened the trading window and eyed the chart.
Uncannily, the path appeared.
Lust, fear, joy, disgust—all gone. Charts just arid data flows.
Colder, more mechanical than before.
Gripped the mouse. Would this disgust-fueled 'Post-Nut Clarity' hold up?
Test run: tiny amount into next trade.
Result?...
Liquidated.
Teased profit for a blink, then vertical nosedive—couldn't hold a minute.
No time for stop-loss.
Blazing red 'forced liquidation' alert branded my final flail as moronic.
50,000 won of mine—poof.
💥 ASSETS 💥 Total Assets: 735,000 won
⚡ Mine: 126,000 won 💨 Yura's: 609,000 won At the blank screen, I let out a hollow chuckle.
The mindlessness from disgust? Useless to me.
Just brain shock, denying reality.
Post-Nut Clarity's core wasn't 'emptiness.'
Desire for Han Yura, boner from her pic, imagining her as I nut—the whole filthy cycle of 'torment' and 'release.' That was the switch.
Guess I'm just a creature ruled by my dick.
That epiphany plunged me into deeper despair.
Physically spent, mentally tapped—every tool gone.
Body unresponsive. No switch left.
Dawn crept in, 400,000 won still shy of 1 million.
My balls hung in ever-growing peril.
"......Fuck it, I dunno."
I muttered like a man surrendered.
Left Yura's 609,000 untouched, dumped my last 126,000—all of it—back into the same coin that liquidated me.
No sensation. No prediction.
Just flinging it all to fate. A loser's dying spasm.
Order placed, I killed the monitor. Couldn't bear watching.
Results? Wait till sunrise.
My balls' fate too—decided then.
Blank-minded, I collapsed onto the bed and passed out.