Chapter 69
Chapter 69
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 69
Chapter Title: The Corporation, and Full-Time Employee Choi Yang
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After days of grueling marches, a weary Choi Yang finally clocked out and headed home, allowing Chaewon and Yura to return to the house with Haneul.
"Uncle! I bought strawberries!"
Haneul came bounding in, beaming from ear to ear, clutching a pack of strawberries in her tiny hands.
"Oh, yeah? Our little Haneul bought strawberries, huh."
I forced a smile and ruffled her hair.
But my mind was already elsewhere.
I was thirsting for post-nut clarity like never before.
From setting up the corporation to hiring Choi Yang, and all the investment plans ahead...
There were mountains of things to sort out, and I couldn't handle them with a clear head—no way.
"Haneul, let's eat the strawberries later..."
I quickly grabbed Yura's wrist and yanked her along.
"Huh? What's up? Why all of a sudden?"
Yura asked, but I had no time to answer.
I bounded up the stairs two at a time to the second floor, shoved Yura into the room the moment I opened the door, and locked it behind us in a flash.
".........."
Her silent glare already carried a hint of resignation.
Her expression screamed, 'This guy's at it again.'
She'd been through this routine countless times and seemed to have a rough read on my state.
She knew the pattern of my behavior when I desperately needed post-nut clarity.
I crept toward her like a ninja and whispered,
"Shh... Let's get this post-nut clarity over with quick."
Yura let out a small sigh and nodded.
"Haneul's still awake... so we gotta be quiet?"
She replied with a tone of inevitability.
But her eyes held a glint of anticipation.
She even lifted her hips slightly off the bed to make it easier for me to slide off her panties.
As I peeled away the last scrap of fabric, her smooth, hairless mound came into view, right before my eyes.
Foreplay? No time for that.
In my haste, I hawked a thick glob of saliva onto the red lips beneath her pale mound.
Then I thrust my rock-hard cock into the hole that had savored it countless times before.
Yura's delightful pussy welcomed my sticky spit as lube, gripping my shaft tight and snug.
The half-covered glans slowly parted her sealed lips.
Her soft flesh yielded to my shape, resisting at first before parting to make way.
A hot breath escaped her lips despite her efforts to stifle it—"Hah."
I pushed in deeper.
The intense friction dragged my cock in millimeter by millimeter, filling her up.
Her pussy reshaped itself entirely to accommodate me.
The sight of her pink, tender walls spreading lusciously around my shaft...
I swallowed hard at the raw obscenity of it.
Finally, when every inch of me bottomed out in her deepest spot.
It was unbelievably hot and tight there.
The perfect sensation left me frozen for a moment, forgetting to move.
Then I exhaled in awe,
"Whew... fuck... how do you get tighter and chewier every damn day?"
Yura shot me a sidelong glance through pleasure-glazed eyes.
"Feels good, you pig?"
"Hey. I've lost a ton of weight—I'm no pig anymore, right?"
"....But your dick got fatter instead."
"Ah...."
Her irrefutable fact-bomb left me with nothing but a chuckle.
As our light banter flowed,
The door to our second-floor room stayed firmly locked.
And beyond it, on the first floor, Chaewon and Haneul's peaceful daily life carried on.
I fell silent and began thrusting my hips.
With each movement, muffled gasps leaked from Yura's lips.
Those sounds filled the quiet second-floor room.
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In the crystal-clear state of post-nut clarity, I began pondering the corporation setup.
My mind sharpened, and the tangled thoughts organized themselves one by one.
First, the permits and approvals.
To run an investment advisory business, I needed to register with the Financial Supervisory Service—and it was trickier than it sounded.
Capital requirements, personnel qualifications, facilities—the list went on and on.
Especially for investment advisory registration, you needed at least 1 billion won in equity capital, and the advisors had to meet specific credentials.
The capital was no issue with my current assets, but personnel was the problem.
None of us—me, Yura, or Chaewon—had the relevant certifications or experience.
Maybe start as a general corporation and pivot to self-capital investment operations instead of advisory?
Or launch as a private equity fund (PEF) and scale up gradually.
In post-nut clarity, these complex legal structures sorted themselves neatly in my head.
The pros and cons, risks, and the best path for our team all came into sharp focus.
Honestly, the easiest was just trading like now.
Even losing a third to taxes, money makes more money over time—eventually reaching a point where trading isn't even needed.
Post-nut clarity made the math crystal clear.
With 13.8 billion won now, a steady 20% annual return nets over 2.76 billion yearly.
After 30% taxes, about 1.93 billion.
Maintain that for three years on compound interest...
Post-tax assets soar past 20 billion.
After that, bank interest alone would suffice for living lavishly.
I'd already achieved my goal from those 6-pyeong studio days.
Back then, slurping instant ramen, I'd daydreamed vaguely: 'How nice would it be to live full off bank interest?'
That dream was now within reach.
Did I really need the headache of a corporation—permits, employee management, tax filings?
Staying a solo investor and trading comfortably might be better.
But was that what I truly wanted?
Having achieved it, something felt off.
Not just aimlessly making money.
I wanted success.
To shout it out: Look, the worthless orphan even my parents ditched made it this far.
That desire, that ambition, had taken root in me before I knew it.
Could money alone satisfy that?
13.8 billion was impressive, no doubt.
For an orphan fresh out of the military, straight from orphanage ramen in a 6-pyeong hole, achieving this in under a year was near-miraculous.
But it felt hollow.
There was this obsession: I couldn't just be a lone investor raking in cash.
I wanted to prove it to the world that discarded me, to everyone who'd looked down on me.
To all those who sneered at my orphanage roots, no degree, no background.
I wanted the name Kim Cheolsu—not just a person, but a brand.
I needed a socially recognized framework.
Me, Han Yura, Yoon Chaewon—we were all society's dropouts.
I wanted to see a company founded by dropouts stand tall in society.
I was an unemployed orphan fresh from discharge.
Yura was a prickly English lit student bullied out of school.
Chaewon was a tattooed single mom who'd gotten pregnant young.
By society's standards, we were all "failures."
We hadn't grown up in normal homes, followed normal paths, or lived normal social lives.
Yet now we had 13.8 billion in assets.
In under a year, no less.
But we were still "unofficial."
Just some people who'd made bank.
I wanted us official, socially validated.
Not hiding in back alleys making dirty money, but stepping forward proudly: "We did it."
That's why we needed the corporation.
I wanted to see dropouts' company become a pillar of Korea's investment world someday.
No, beyond Korea—to the global stage...
Post-nut clarity made that possibility vivid.
Yura's fluent English. Choi Yang's mastery of agitation and fabrication.
Their synergy was overwhelming, and Chaewon would be our oasis, soothing our weary souls.
Our team's structure looked perfect in post-nut clarity.
Yura spreads info naturally in overseas communities in English; Choi Yang shapes matching domestic opinion.
Rumors from abroad get reverse-imported home, credibility doubled.
Choi Yang's troll mastery plus Yura's global network enables worldwide opinion manipulation.
Not just Korea—US, Europe markets could sway to our will.
And after all the fierce battles? Chaewon waiting.
Warm rice, neat side dishes, Haneul's innocent laughter.
After the warzone of markets, our embrace in precious normalcy.
Chaewon wasn't just a housekeeper.
She was our final safeguard against losing our humanity.
With this perfect combo, we could take on the world.
This bizarre team centered on an orphanage dropout could one day shake global finance.
The corporation wasn't optional—it was essential.
My mind fully organized in post-nut clarity.
Listing necessities.
First, corporate form. Advisory registration too tough? Start general, upgrade later. 1 billion capital? Easy.
Second, office. Remote? No way. Need credible space in Gangnam or Yeouido at least—for external trust.
Third, staffing. Beyond Yura, Chaewon, Choi Yang—basic back-office: accounting, legal, admin.
Fourth, systems. Corporate accounts vs. personal? Night and day. New trading, risk management, reporting—all from scratch.
Fifth, licenses. Tough now, but aim for advisory and discretionary investment eventually. Essential for global push.
Sixth, branding. Name, logo, CI—from the start, world-class investor firm standards.
Priority: office.
No moving. This house is Chaewon and Haneul's stable haven, our team's base camp.
Issue: need a spot at the office for "that business" to fuel post-nut clarity.
Can't judge investments without it.
Rush home for clarity amid market chaos, then back? Insane.
Office needs fully soundproof, private space.
Not just a meeting room—a real "that business" spot.
Considering duration, 2-3 hours fully isolated sometimes.
Accessible to Yura or staff anytime.
Find complex-layout officetel in Gangnam/Yeouido.
Main office separate from dedicated "break room."
Or two-floor lease: one office, one "personal."
Externally, "CEO office" or "lounge."
Post-nut clarity is our core edge—no compromises.
But must it be Gangnam?
I live in Heyri Village, Paju. Calculated commute by car.
Post-nut clarity mapped routes: trickier than thought.
Heyri to Gangnam: Freeway - Inner Loop - Gangnam Loop, 1.5 hours normal.
Rush hour: minimum 2.
Yeouido same: Freeway - West Arterial - Yeouido Road, 1.5-2 hours.
4 hours round-trip daily? Every day?
Better office near home.
Paju or Goyang have decent officetels.
Less prestige than Gangnam, but way more practical.
Or lease/buy dedicated office building nearby.
Post-nut clarity trading win rate: overwhelming, 90%+ barring chaos even super-AI can't predict.
At this rate, clients flock even to a mountain shack with cash in hand.
Cold calc in clarity confirmed it.
Wall Street legends worshipped for 20-30% annual.
Buffett's decades at ~20% make him investing genius.
My post-nut trades? 90% short-term success.
Other dimension entirely.
Sustain this, office location irrelevant.
Gangnam or Paju hills—investors come running.
"Paju Sage" mystique? Not bad.
Guru meditating in serene artsy Heyri Village.
Heyri's vibe gives our firm unique flavor.
Results matter. Returns say it all.
Office near home it is.
As I mulled office thoughts, Chaewon opened the door.
Her face oddly dark. Did Haneul fall playing?
I bolted up, worried.
"What's wrong? Something happen?"
Chaewon silently showed her phone screen.
📰 Breaking News [21-Year-Old College Student Commits Suicide After Crypto Investment Failure] Nothing groundbreaking...
But a queasy feeling hit as I checked details.
[Helios]
Nothing else registered. Just the coin name burned into my eyes.
The coin we'd stripped to the bone.
Post-nut clarity's sharpness blurred for a split second.
No—sharpened colder.
Our actions' meaning calculated ruthlessly.
Helios op: perfect victory.
Choi Yang's trolling and Yura's overseas psyops duped the retail crowd, massive profits.
But our gains were someone's losses.
Zero-sum in theory, but that "someone" being a specific 21-year-old student? Unforeseen.
Chaewon's dark expression made sense now.
As a mom raising a 6-year-old, she couldn't brush off another parent's child dying.
Even if our ages weren't far apart...