Five Thousand Pounds
"I'd like to invest in Walmart."
Gary Pink asked the student why.
"Whether you've got a lot of money or a little, you still have to eat."
"So a supermarket is essential, if you mean to eat?"
"Yes. As long as the human race goes on, I don't think it can go under."
"An interesting thought. Shall we have a look?"
Gary set his hands to the keyboard, and a screen rose from the projector in the middle of the lecture hall. He typed in the word Walmart. A moment later a complicated graph took shape.
"Walmart's sales over the last five years."
"Whoa!"
The cry broke from the students all at once. This was still an age before the internet had spread. None of them had ever watched a search term go in and a result come back.
"Look at Walmart's pricing and you can read the state of American finances. A kind of economic indicator for the United States, you might say."
That was as far as the lecture on Walmart itself went. Gary moved on to what the stock was worth as an investment.
"From a long-term view, it's an excellent name. But remember that all we have is five thousand pounds."
In other words, it was no good if you wanted a profit now. The answer must have caught them off guard. From that moment the room began to murmur.
They were only seventeen, after all. Rather than weigh short-term returns, they had simply brought in the companies they liked. Just as I'd thought.
"Adidas."
"Bentley."
"Louis Vuitton, for me."
"I suppose Warner Music..."
As if they had planned it, familiar names poured out one after another. Each time, Gary tapped at the keys and went out of his way to throw onto the screen a graph only he could read. And at the end, without fail—
"This is a difficult name if you want a return right away."
The feedback was nearly the same every time.
How many times did that scene repeat? All at once the noisy lecture hall went quiet, and for a single reason. Tennessee Grosvenor's turn had come.
"Let's hear the name you prepared."
"......"
"Did you not prepare anything?"
"No."
"Then why..."
"It's a company I only learned about this time."
"The name won't sit in your mouth?"
Tennessee nodded.
"Take your time. If you've prepared a report, you're welcome to read it as it is."
At that courtesy Tennessee drew out a sheaf of papers. He looked awkward no matter how long he stared at them, and he let the silence stretch a good while before he spoke.
"...Daisho."
"Ah. Daisho?"
Tennessee gave no particular answer. He only kept his eyes on the papers.
"Why did you choose Daisho?"
"I heard it was a company that makes content."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. They're the ones who made Super Orlando."
"You knew it at once. It must be promising, then."
"Of course. It's a sensational company."
"......"
Tennessee hesitated, on the point of speaking, and Gary prompted him.
"Right. The content business. Why a content company?"
"Because I thought content itself was the manufacturing of a new age."
"Hoh."
The claim seemed to interest him. Gary set his hands to the keys at once.
"Let's start with the graph."
Information on Daisho rose onto the screen.
"Revenue has jumped several times over, and the growth still hasn't broken. That means the potential is endless."
"Whoa!"
The cry had barely burst from the room around us.
"It's a little early to be impressed."
He pointed to a line of text beneath the graph.
"This is a summary of an article from the end of last year."
The screen turned to the next page, and a paragraph of five lines appeared.
"One of Daisho's third parties posted record sales. It says an expansion pack comes out every quarter. And when a limited edition is released, the lines stretch out in front of the shops."
Gary turned to Tennessee.
"Did you know that?"
"Not at all."
"If you'd known it beforehand, would you have invested in Daisho, or in this third-party company?"
"The third party, without question."
"Why?"
"Because the stake is only five thousand pounds."
"Correct. Money is always limited. So you can't be satisfied just because you've found a good name. You dig, and dig, and dig, until you find the most efficient thing there is."
To think a story that began with Daisho would end at D-Que.
"......"
Pretending I didn't know left me with a peculiar feeling. And I'd been about to name Daisho myself.
Hmm.
Fortunately there was still a good while before my turn. I'd been running about since morning, and sleep came creeping in...
How long did those dull presentations go on? Then a remark snapped me wide awake.
"If it were me, I'd invest in Ralph Warren."
A voice far too bold. Olivia.
"Why?"
"The CEO is a notorious workaholic."
"Not easy to see your father, I take it?"
"No."
A little humor passed between them. Then Gary Pink typed Ralph Warren into the search bar, and the usual graph rose once more.
"Apparel is an especially difficult sector to invest in. Every time a new line comes out you have to hire models in droves and start with a fashion show. Marketing costs pile up like a mountain, and you still need shops to display the clothes, so distribution costs get added on top."
It was sensitive to trends besides, and to the seasons, which made even the inventory a misery to clear. Come to think of it, I was about to put my hand to a rather difficult business.
Sure enough, Gary asked with a sour face.
"I'll ask again. You still want to invest in apparel?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"If it's as you say, then just cutting the marketing and distribution costs ought to leave quite a profitable business."
"And is there a way to cut them?"
At that, Olivia turned toward me.
Marketing and distribution were both JH Network's field. Looked at that way, my stepping into fashion was almost the natural next move.
"You seem to have a plan."
She nodded.
"All right. I'll look forward to it."
A short while later—
"Obviously I'd go all in on a defense contractor..."
Even Jack finished his presentation.
At the end of that long wait, if you could call it a wait, my turn had come around at last.
"......"
I couldn't call up a single suitable name. Right after Olivia had mentioned the fashion business, thoughts tied to it kept circling through my head.
"Park Jihoon?"
So I had to produce an answer on the spot.
"Did you not prepare?"
"No."
"Then?"
"I want to invest in a law firm."
"There are quite a few law firms."
"Clifford Brookhouse."
"Hoh."
Was this the first time a law firm's name had come out of a student's mouth? Gary stared at me as if I were something remarkable.
"Is there a reason you want to invest there?"
"Having dealt with them myself, I found them considerably skilled."
"Some lawsuit, then... ah. The disciplinary committee?"
He laughed, a little embarrassed, and quickly set to typing.
"All right. Let's check first."
A large graph rose. Gary interpreted it with a perfectly serious face, and I didn't take in a word.
Honestly.
Had I ever meant to invest? Say a name and everything about the company came tumbling out, so I had offered it up in part to gather what I needed for revenge.
Harris Department Store's share price climbs, and Clifford Brookhouse soars day after day……
Harris, the powerhouse of prestige consumer goods……
VIP shoppers pack Harris Department Store, and Clifford Brookhouse rises with them……
What?
I had searched a law firm. Why was the screen nothing but news of some department store I hadn't asked for?
A huge question mark had just risen in my head when a bright chime spilled through the room. Class was over. Gary swallowed whatever regret he felt and cut the microphone.
There must have been more he'd meant to say. He turned toward me.
"Come see me for a moment before you go."
He had gone to the trouble of explaining, and I had been elsewhere the entire time. Was I about to get a scolding?
"It won't take long."
The other teachers seemed to use the faculty office. Gary Pink kept a private study, like a professor.
Hmm.
Was this where the Bloomberg terminal had sat? The oak desk looked strangely bare.
"Sit."
He led me to the reception sofa.
"You don't actually mean to invest, do you?"
"Pardon?"
"Clifford Brookhouse."
He smiled with his eyes, like a man looking straight through me. Rather than toss out a careless answer, I had no choice but to give him something equally vague.
A moment later he brought coffee and said, "I hear your personal fortune is considerable."
"......?"
"Don't be offended. I didn't go digging."
"Offended? It isn't a secret."
At my Royal School interview I had written my assets out in detail on the forms. He was my homeroom teacher. Of course he would know that much.
"You've been investing rather aggressively. There's no chance you'd put money into Clifford Brookhouse. Am I wrong?"
"Who knows."
I gave him another vague answer. He seemed to glance at his wristwatch, then eased the conversation forward.
"In a case like yours, you're a full-time investor as well, so it would be difficult to lay your plans out in full in front of your classmates. I understand. Which is why I'm asking."
If I couldn't tell the students, would I tell the teacher? That was what he meant.
In that short interval my mind turned very fast.
This was a man I would be seeing for a long time. He was my homeroom teacher, besides. If I made my ability known now, he could keep smoothing the way for me later. So the first thing I said was this.
"Five thousand pounds is an awkward sum."
"Set beside the scale you invest at, it's far too little."
"The senior you told us about. The one who joined Bloomberg."
"Ah. Yes."
"They say he achieved quite a result, but in the end it was only two hundred thousand pounds."
"The rate of return is substantial, but the absolute amount falls short?"
I nodded.
"Then in your case, roughly what scale... that is, the amount you invest, approximately... if it's difficult to be precise, could you explain it as roughly as you like?"
"It depends on the case."
"I'm sure it does, but..."
"An average would be hard. If I take the investment I made most recently."
It must have been the answer he had been dying to hear. A gleam rose in Gary's eyes.
"I invested ten billion won in a British engineer."
"Ten billion won?"
"About six million pounds."
"Six... six million pounds?"
"Yes."
"How on earth do you give that kind of money to an engineer?"
Because he was a man who could suck money in with a vacuum cleaner. Gary, who had no way of knowing what I meant, could only stare.
"......!"