Chapter 78
Chapter 78
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 78
Chapter Title: Awakening
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I took a moment to catch my breath and sort through the situation.
Kraken had fully committed their 19 billion won position at 1,152 won.
It was like a massive whale thrashing deep in the ocean, hooked on a fishing line.
I held 6.5 billion won in cash and prepared for a new game.
In the first round, I'd tossed out bait to lure them in, but this time it was a proper hunt.
Around 1,180 won, I cautiously repurchased 4 billion won worth.
My average buy-in was 1,175 won.
This time, I'd structured it to generate profits from the start.
Kraken was still desperately defending their break-even point of 1,152 won.
They had nowhere left to retreat.
I began to slowly give them line.
Like a fisherman tiring out a whale hooked on his line by letting out slack bit by bit, I kept my distance to let Kraken feel at ease.
For several days, I launched no attacks.
Flashcoin's price stabilized in a sideways pattern around 1,170 won.
Kraken must have started to relax a little.
But I was already plotting my next move.
I'd wait until they were completely off guard, then go for the kill in one shot.
A week passed with no movement.
Flashcoin traded peacefully sideways around 1,170 won.
Kraken gradually lowered their guard.
With no follow-up after the initial strike, they seemed to judge their 19 billion position as safe.
That was when I struck.
2 a.m., targeting the night operator's most complacent hour.
I dumped 1.5 billion won worth at market price in one go.
Flashcoin plunged from 1,170 won to 1,155 won in an instant.
Kraken's break-even of 1,152 won was right in front of them.
They reflexively threw in 2 billion won to defend.
Ten minutes later, I sold another 1 billion won worth.
As the price dropped to 1,148 won, Kraken's mentality shattered completely. Their break-even had been breached.
They desperately added 3 billion won to defend the 1,150 won line, but I'd already run the numbers.
As Kraken bought heavily to push the price up to 1,158 won, I immediately sold 1.5 billion won worth at 1,160 won.
It was a 15 won loss from my 1,175 won average—about 180 million won—but this was a calculated sacrifice.
My real goal was to drag Kraken deeper into the quagmire.
To make them commit another 5 billion won, totaling 24 billion won trapped at an average of 1,151 won.
As the price rebounded to 1,165 won, I threw in my remaining 2 billion won to buy at 1,163 won.
This time, I was starting from an even better price.
As Kraken defended again and pulled it up to 1,170 won, I sold immediately at 1,175 won.
From 1,163 won buy to 1,175 won sell—a 12 won profit.
2 billion won invested yielded about 200 million won in gains.
A small profit, but hugely significant.
Kraken was now fully locked into 24 billion won at 1,151 won.
Their average cost kept dropping, pulling them deeper into the inescapable swamp.
Complacent in the belief that time and capital would let them escape anytime, Kraken didn't notice they were being carved up piece by piece.
This was a pure chart battle—no opinion war.
No retail suckers lured in, no fake news or rumors.
Just clean buying and selling.
With collateral damage on each individual, I felt unburdened as I methodically stripped Kraken bare.
Round 3, Round 4... the pattern repeated.
Maintain calm for days, then strike suddenly to provoke their defense, pocketing profits as they pushed the price up.
Kraken fell into the delusion each time that "just a bit longer and it'll recover," injecting more funds.
The security of their massive capital was turning into poison.
300 million won in Round 5, 400 million in Round 6, 500 million in Round 7... profits grew each time.
The more funds Kraken committed, the higher my returns climbed.
A month later, cumulative profits hit 10 billion won.
Kraken still hadn't realized they were being fleeced.
They clung only to the faith that "time will fix it."
But I'd made enough.
Dragging it out longer risked them catching on.
In the final round, I liquidated everything and closed out my Flashcoin order book.
By the time Kraken sensed something was wrong, it was too late.
I'd already left the battlefield with 10 billion won in profits.
They were still holding billions in losses, but they'd convince themselves "it'll recover someday."
A perfect trap born from blind faith in time and capital.
The final profit on my monitor: exactly 10.02 billion won.
The fruit of a month's grueling war of attrition.
10 billion won.
The old Kim Cheolsu, pre-Helios, would've jumped for joy at that number, grinning ear to ear.
But now? Total numbness.
No thrill beyond the extra zeros in my account.
'What's wrong with me?'
I murmured inwardly.
It wasn't like with Helios.
No despairing retail traders, no individuals plunged into ruin.
This was the "clean fight" I'd wanted.
To Kraken—a colossal entity rolling in tens of billions—10 billion wasn't a mortal wound.
At best, a petty thief snatching a few fish from their massive fish farm.
Nothing more, nothing less.
The emptiness of that 10 billion led straight to questions about my core existence.
'What the hell do I really want?'
Twenty-three years old, nearly a full year since discharge.
Turning twenty-four soon, but I still didn't know what I wanted to do or be.
Just a vague fog of "I want to succeed."
One thing was clear.
The success I craved wasn't skulking in some unheralded workshop, pilfering Kraken's cash like a thief.
That was just making money, far from the "success" I dreamed of.
Thinking back, it was ridiculous.
Why had I bothered with that hassle to set up Bluesky Inc.?
Maybe more than half the reason was just to hear my women call me "President."
Not some anonymous gambler clutching cash bundles, but recognition as a proper company boss.
A childish desire for legitimacy.
That was the root of my void.
An orphanage-raised comedian's bastard, craving lines like, "Oh, President Kim! It's an honor to meet you!"
Yeah. Course set.
Crypto.
To me, armed with the absolute weapon of Post-Nut Clarity, it was the easiest, fastest way to print money.
Undeniable fact.
But if that's all? 50 billion, 500 billion, 5 trillion—what then? Society's gaze?
No need to guess. "Lucky crypto degenerate who struck it rich." Nothing more.
No respect—just finger-pointing as a nouveau riche if lucky.
Check YouTube. So-called "crypto experts" get treated half like scammers.
Well, most peddle scam coins, but that's beside the point.
The "successful man" image I want isn't some cheap hustler.
Not just a crypto rich kid with cash.
Look at the stock market next door—same chart-reading money-makers, but they're "asset managers," "analysts," socially revered.
Media fawns over them like royalty.
Why couldn't I do that?
Sure, crypto's pure hype and belief, while stocks have "fundamentals."
Tougher, more complex.
Yet failure never crossed my mind.
Because I had Post-Nut Clarity, my absolute edge.
And worst case? Failure didn't matter.
Crypto was my personal ATM—come back anytime, copy-paste profits.
That safety net let me gamble on a bigger stage.
Suddenly, an old investor's face popped up.
The geezer called "Omaha's Sage."
World's rich bid billions for lunch with him.
Not for money.
The symbolism of dining with him, glimpsing his wisdom.
People bet their lives on his time and insight.
That's the pinnacle of true success.
Fuck, I burst out laughing.
Omaha's Sage? Why not Paju's Sage?
Heard the old man started hawking newspapers, shining shoes.
What's that from an orphanage clown like me?
Humble start, but overwhelming skill to the top.
Process differs, essence same.
Decided.
My endgame: Paju's Sage.
And that legend's first page starts here at Bluesky.
At the end of deep reflection, I chose my path.
Paju's Sage.
To take the first step toward that grand goal, I needed the gods' time again.
Post-Nut Clarity was essential.
I stood and called Choi Yang, quietly reading self-help in the corner of the first-floor office.
"Choi Yang."
"Yes, President."
She closed her book and looked at me.
Her eyes were far calmer than before.
"Where are Chaewon and Yura?"
"Director Yoon stepped out for Sky's pickup from daycare, and Executive VP Han went to check on real estate."
Director, Executive VP.
She'd even nailed the titles perfectly.
"Oh, yeah? Real estate?"
"Yes, buying land with her profits this time..."
Hmm. That fox Han Yura.
Already cashing her share for property speculation?
Fine by me. Partners who handle themselves are always welcome.
"Got it. Guess no choice then... Didn't expect today to be the day."
"What?"
To Choi Yang's innocent question, I grinned.
"Today, let's turn your unused virgin plot into used goods."
"……"
To my blunt declaration, Choi Yang fell silent.
She just stared at me with unreadable eyes.
Why stare like that?
It was the deal from the start.
I told myself.
And this wasn't just my lust—it was vital for all our "success."
So, I stood tall. Proud as fuck.