Going All In

After coming back from the dungeon, Jisu hadn't taken on any new commissions. He didn't particularly want to set foot in another one, and it wasn't as if any raid requests were coming in either.

The Bitcoin he'd gone all-in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on that day had long since been converted back into stats. His abilities had shifted a little, sure, but Bitcoin was still the same old sideways-drifting coin it had always been. The difference was negligible, and his rank hadn't changed. Of course, that was exactly what he'd been counting on when he bought it.

And so, almost of their own accord, Jisu's days filled up with nothing but the cryptocurrency charts of the world.

Eventually I need to be able to do this without Lynx's paid room.

He couldn't lean on Lynx forever.

From the very first moment he'd decided to study the charts, he'd kept the prices of every major coin up on his screens. From BitTrader, the world's largest exchange, all the way to Bitstorm, where Jisu bought and sold his own stats.

He'd ordered extra monitors a while back, so his room now had five screens broadcasting the prices of various coins around the clock — a genuine crypto trader's den.

Having them up like this at least makes me feel like I'm doing something.

Jisu recalled a scene from a movie he'd watched once. Sharp-looking men in expensive suits, the kind who radiated intelligence at a glance, clutching their foreheads and shaking their heads as they stared at a violently plunging downtrend.

Swap stocks for crypto, and anyone who didn't know better would look at Jisu — five monitors, staring at charts all day — and think he was some seasoned Silverman Sachs expert. He was wearing a hoodie, though.

I've been watching like this ever since that day, and I still don't understand a damn thing.

Lynx couldn't be a god. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The fact that people who knew that still trusted him so completely was honestly a little funny, but still. Still, he definitely wasn't a god. That wouldn't make any sense.

Which meant he was reading the charts, too.

The method he used to predict prices was probably simpler than people thought. At first Jisu had wondered if Lynx was getting insider information from somewhere, but how could one person possibly receive intel on every single coin? Even setting aside the possibility that Lynx wasn't working alone, it was more reasonable to believe that when he said you could tell from the charts, he actually meant it.

But look at the life Jisu ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had lived until now. He'd been as far from investing and speculation as a person could get — working hard, sweating for every precious won, pinching pennies on food and clothes to save it all up, bit by bit.

Staring at charts for a few days and suddenly being able to read them like a book? That was close to impossible.

It'd be nice if hunter stats applied to real life too.

If his Mental stat was high enough, maybe looking at charts would actually tell him something? Never mind how Mental even worked in the first place.

While he was entertaining these idle thoughts, an alarm he'd set on his phone went off.

Ding.

Jisu snatched up his phone. This sound — this was definitely the alert for Lynx's signals. After joining the paid room, he'd set a notification for whenever Lynx was about to start talking, before the actual calls went out.

There hadn't been so much as a minor call in ages, which meant it really had been a downtrend. Lynx had a habit of going completely silent during bear markets. Some people might have taken that as a reason to complain, but it was more than enough to inspire trust — he simply didn't speak unless he was sure. And in fact, not a single person in the room had ever voiced a complaint about it.

After that, a few more messages went up praising him so shamelessly it was almost embarrassing to look at. Jisu, if he had to put a word to it, was a bystander. He had no desire to jump in and start worshipping Lynx along with the rest of them.

Something enormous?

Jisu had seen plenty of calls since joining the paid room, but this was the first time Lynx had ever used a word like that so directly.

Gazua?

Gazua Coin. That was the name of a wildly volatile coin Jisu had seen back when he'd first started using Bitstorm. Had Lynx already been calling signals even back then? Of course, there was no way of knowing whether the moment Jisu had seen it was the same moment Lynx had pointed it out.

What kind of coin name was Masterchef? Then again, speaking frankly, it was still better than a shitcoin.

Jisu opened Bitstorm and checked the KRW market. Scrolling down a bit, he spotted several coins he'd never seen before. It didn't take long to find Masterchef among them.

Lynx's reply to that devoted follower came with what could only be described as an embarrassed laugh — and somehow, astonishingly, Jisu could see the whole scene playing out in front of him, even though all he was looking at was a chat room. He must have gotten used to this place without realizing it.

Masterchef coin, huh...

Jisu sank into thought. What about this time? Could he go all-in this time?

He'd been following Lynx's calls all along, but those had been limited to the Agility and Strength he'd already lost in large amounts. Every call so far had been close to perfect, which meant that if Jisu had invested his massively inflated Stamina and Mental, he would have become truly powerful by now.

But he hadn't. He hadn't been able to.

That split-second of hesitation. Was it really okay ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to throw everything in? It was a paid room, sure, but even so — was going all-in actually a safe move? And beyond that, tens of thousands of thoughts bubbling up just to justify himself.

Every investment since the beginning had gone more or less like this. Unlike those early days when he'd bought without a clue, he hadn't been taking any real risks. And then, in the end, even when he missed out on profits by not investing, he'd find himself feeling relieved about it.

It wouldn't have been my profit anyway. That's just hindsight talking. Not betting it all is the wise move.

Thoughts like those had soothed him so sweetly, every single time.

Was this really the kind of investing he wanted to be doing? Was this what he'd paid twenty million won for?

All-in... I think I should go all-in this time.

The temptation of an all-in was fierce. Buying everything without a second thought. In poker terms: ALL IN. All. In.

Someone who could throw everything they had on the table for a staggering payoff. Didn't the world call people like that gamblers?

This is the moment to move forward. Paying to get into the room was all so I could go all-in. Even if I can't trust Lynx completely, looking at the data so far, there's no reason not to. Nobody knows what method he uses, but the fact is he's been calling perfectly this whole time. So—

Jisu clenched both fists.

How many days passed after that?

Day after day of staring at charts, the same routine on repeat — and then the notification sound started up again.

The gulp of him swallowing was loud enough to hear in the dead-silent room. Jisu could do nothing but stare at his phone screen.

Alright. Let's play.

I actually did it.

The only other time Jisu had gone all-in — not counting the Bitcoin he'd bought expecting no price movement at all — was exactly once. The very first time. The moment he'd awakened to the ability to invest his stats, and bought his first coin without a thought in his head: Justice.

And since then, he had bought and sold countless coins.

So why had Jisu thrown down the gauntlet now? It was less that he trusted Lynx, and more that he was trusting his own gut.

If it looks dangerous, I can just sell everything immediately. Keep watching the market.

And so Jisu challenged the all-in once more.