Short Selling Triumph and the Chairman's Challenge
The next day, Nam Gyuil took leave from the Hunter Agency and plunged into investments with his 400 billion won. He moved based on the information he'd gleaned from the corporate chairmen.
The coin and real estate markets are done for, they said?
After the gates appeared, the real estate speculation boom had cooled off completely, making it hard to touch big money. As for coins, they'd mentioned North Korea hacking and siphoning funds. With no stability guaranteed and criminal organizations jumping in, one wrong move could drag you into messy trouble.
Stock investing is the smartest play.
And they'd pinpointed exactly which stocks would tank—not rise, but fall.
I'd never traded stocks before, so I didn't even know about short selling or split listings.
Nam Gyuil let out a long breath. This split listing was the key.
For example, suppose Company A succeeded with a tech investment. They'd have to share the profits with investors—that's the right way for a public company. But Korea had a twist. When a company nailed a tech investment and started raking in profits, the owner family hated sharing based on shareholdings. They wanted to monopolize the gains. Enter the split listing: Spin off the successful division from A into a new Company B and list it separately. Now B becomes its own company, and the owners scoop up all of B's shares, hogging every profit. Investors get robbed of most of their rightful cut. A becomes the parent, B the subsidiary, but B takes nearly all the profits while A scrapes by on dividends and royalties—maybe 10% of total revenue at best.
Of course, A's stock then plummets. The core tech's gone to B.
That's where short selling came in. Short selling profited from falling stocks. You didn't buy—you borrowed. Borrow high from someone, sell immediately, then buy low later to return it. Pocket the difference.
A split listing tanks the parent company's stock. Short sell it, and you rake it in.
Turning a stock crash into profit... Anyone clueless about stocks would faint.
These cases weren't common. Blindly splitting could get the chairman ousted. You had to placate shareholders. If conditions weren't ripe, abandon it. And secrecy risked market manipulation lawsuits, so announce it publicly in advance.
Thus, shortable stocks were limited.
Know the split in advance, profit. Don't, and lose.
Stocks weren't simple.
The intel from the chairmen? Exactly which companies would split—before public announcement. Perfect for front-running.
Nam Gyuil applied for securities lending at a brokerage, prepping his shorts. Borrowing stocks meant fees—the lenders wouldn't loan without them.
All 400 billion on the line.
He paid the full fees upfront. High-risk; a flop could bankrupt his family. But perfect intel made it possible.
In the bull market, he sold the borrowed shares short. Then waited for the crash.
And there it was—an internet news article.
The board has approved spinning off the profitable tech division into a new subsidiary for independent listing. Parent company shares expected to adjust accordingly.
The company he'd shorted was splitting. Exactly 30 minutes later, shares buckled. By the hour mark, down 30%.
Nam Gyuil bought back then, returned to the brokerage.
After 400 billion in fees, profit: 2,100 billion won. Over 5x return.
Shorts lose on rises, so close fast on gains.
"Whew!"
Nam Gyuil stretched. Earning 2.1 trillion made his limbs tingle. Tension release.
So this is how the rich multiply wealth?
Profit in bulls or bears—the financial world was mysterious. But his intel ended here. No more shorts.
Still, 2.1 trillion put him on par with LS Group's Chairman U Seongjin.
First path to the golden horn secured.
Outbid openly at auction—Plan A. Fail, go to Plan B.
He rose from his chair, pulled out Form Change.
His sole heir has an incurable disease. Hospitalized in Korea.
A new post-gate illness, confirmed by Opposition Leader Im Suyeong.
Let's check it out.
Nam Gyuil activated Form Change, shifting to U Seongjin's face. Off to the hospital.
For Plan B on the golden horn!
Nam Gyuil arrived at the hospital as U Seongjin. Doctors rushed out.
"Chairman, you've arrived."
Acting the part, he probed for info.
"How's my grandson?"
"No improvement, unfortunately. Bluish skin persists, and he's unconscious."
"Not worsening?"
"U Jin-ho's been sweating coldly lately. Without life support, he's at risk."
Nam Gyuil nodded. First time hearing the name U Jin-ho.
"I need to see my grandson's face."
"We'll escort you."
The doctor led to the room.
Creak.
Inside: U Jin-ho, truly bluish all over.
"Leave us alone."
"Yes, sir. But this new post-gate disease requires caution for patient safety."
The doctor warned and left.
Nam Gyuil examined closely. No ordinary illness. Heart faint against his ear. Eyelids lifted: sclera bloodshot red. Veins bulging on limbs.
"......"
Checked all symptoms, he slipped out. In a camera-dead zone, dispelled Form Change.
Won't trace me now.
Getting caught infiltrating? U Seongjin wouldn't sit idle.
Back home, he sealed windows and doors.
If U Jin-ho's disease is a first post-gate incurable... definitely mana-related.
Straight to Akashic Records.
Scanning disease info, his lips curled.
Closed the book.
Plan B complete.
The decisive moment arrived. Auction day for the golden horn at SB.
Nam Gyuil donned a tuxedo, took his seat early.
Front row: U Seongjin. Everyone glared—top rival.
U ignored them, sunken eyes fixed on stage. Stress maxed.
Auctioneer took the mic.
"SB Auction begins now. First item."
It started. Auctioneer hyped bids.
"A precious plant. Minimum bid: 30 billion."
Bids flew. Past 100 billion, straight to 300. U Seongjin called lightly.
"600 billion."
Nam Gyuil checked the pamphlet. Golden horn last.
Bleed his funds before it drops. Tire him out first.
Hand up.
"700 billion."
All eyes on him. U upped casually.
"1,000 billion."
He claimed the first with big money.
Second item. Nam Gyuil bid big early.
"1,100 billion."
U finally glanced, annoyed.
"1,200 billion."
Casual again.
Third. Nam Gyuil: "1,200 billion." Silence fell. Challenging the top dog.
Curious stares. U didn't flinch.
"1,300 billion."
Nam kept interfering. U threw insane sums effortlessly.
Chills ran down Nam's spine.
Total so far near 2 trillion? And he's this relaxed?!
Real calm or bluff? Spooky.
Finally—the golden horn onstage.
Nam clenched his fist.
I've drained him some. Play careful now.
"1,000 billion."
Irked U boomed.
"2,000 billion."
Stared at Nam: This what you really want?
Cold sweat for Nam.
Sharp as hell. Didn't expect instant read.
Steady breath. Eyes fierce, all-in.
"2,100 billion."
"3,000 billion."
Instant counter, seizing momentum.
Nam shut up.
2 trillion bled earlier, yet 300 billion casual.
No wonder top of chaebols.
Long exhale. Plan A sunk. Opponent too strong.
Plan B it is.
Nam smirked. Maybe better than A.
U Seongjin, with secretary and guards, loaded his items into the car.
Nodded at secretary.
"Total spent today?"
"2.57 trillion."
"Remaining assets?"
"18.32 trillion. About 10% of assets used."
U shook head. Not that.
"Public assets plus slush funds. Total left?"
"Around 50 trillion. 4% of total used."
"I see."
U nodded. Never gone all-out.
As he moved to enter the car—
Sudden appearance: Nam Gyuil.
U eyed him like a loser dog. Scram vibe.
But then—an unignorable line.
"I'll cure U Jin-ho. LS Group's sole heir!"
Nam's voice boomed in U's ears.
Secretary: "Ignore?"
"......"
U silent, then cold gaze. Decision made.
Yelled at Nam.
"Fine, you'll cure my grandson? Let's talk. Your name?"
"Nam Gyuil."
"Cure him for real, I'll sponsor you. Lie... prepare yourself."
U was clear on rewards and punishments.