The Collab

"Oppa, stop sleeping and get up."

Minjae dragged himself out of sleep to the sound of his girlfriend Joohee's nagging.

"Nnngh. What time is it?"

"Twelve?"

He'd slept straight through to the afternoon, but a night of nonstop streaming had left him wrecked. A day like this, he just wanted to take the stream off.

"God, I'm exhausted."

"That's what you get for not knowing when to quit. What time did you even come in?"

"...Five?"

"So? Did you manage to recover any of it?"

Joohee's question dragged last night back into focus. Minjae pulled a bitter smile. She clearly hadn't watched the stream all the way through.

"No. I got wrecked for a hundred million."

From last night through to dawn, the money he'd lost came to a hundred million won. The re-entry he'd thrown in to claw back an initial ten-million-won hole had failed, and failed again, and then a tilt-brained futures gamble had gotten him liquidated, the damage compounding like a snowball rolling downhill.

Even now, just thinking about it made him sick. Joohee seemed just as gutted; she let out a wordless sigh.

"I've got plans with Minju. You streaming today?"

"Dunno. I'll look at things and text you."

The way he felt right ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠now, he had no desire to hit the go-live button — but you never knew how a day would turn. He wasn't about to make any promises.

"Alright. I'm heading out."

After seeing his girlfriend off, Minjae shuffled over and booted up his computer. He checked the exchange first, scanning the coin charts, then browsed his stream's community board. Last of all, he opened his private messages.

"Who's this?"

He opened it without much thought. The name Kim Dojun meant absolutely nothing to him.

"Wild Horse?"

The instant he read the first line, every trace of grogginess vanished. The person on the other end was Running Wild Horse — the last guest he had ever expected to hear from.

He fired back a reply at once.

Minjae felt his heart kick against his ribs. The hundred million he'd burned through last night might as well have happened to someone else.

Just as he'd figured — Wild Horse had seen the note Minjae had sent a few days back, and that was what had prompted the message.

If this isn't a read-and-ignore, it's a yes!

His read was dead-on. Over text, Wild Horse agreed to come on the stream — on the condition that his face stay off camera.

For a civilian guest, that was a perfectly reasonable ask. Nothing to argue about.

Terrified that Wild Horse might change his mind, Minjae pushed to lock in the collab for this evening.

The truth was, coordinating a time between a man who streamed for a living and a man with nowhere to be had never been going to take much work.

And just like that — with the speed of a lightning strike — he had landed a collab with the biggest guest of his career.

When the conversation ended, Minjae couldn't tell whether he was awake or still dreaming.

This isn't some impersonator, right?

The suspicion hit him a beat too late. He pulled up Wild Horse's messenger profile. A potted plant, a keyboard, a landscape — not a single photo that could hint at who the person actually was.

What the hell is this.

A profile that didn't even give away whether he was looking at a man or a woman. The uneasy feeling was hard to shake.

But no matter how he turned it over, the only person he'd handed his personal contact to recently was Running Wild Horse. Unless his number had somehow leaked on stream, nobody else could have pulled a stunt like this.

After a stretch of second-guessing, he decided to trust it. And the first place he broke the news was his own stream's community board.

A single line. No explanation, nothing extra. That was all it took. Comments started stacking up in real time, and from there the rumor tore through every crypto board on the internet.

Within an hour, Minjae's community board had lost its mind. Regulars who never missed a stream, people who had never given him a second glance — they all poured in until the place was a full-blown madhouse.

In the entire history of his channel, he had never drawn attention like this. Not even close.

"Today we hit an all-time high."

The legendary high-school trader who had turned a single million won into two hundred billion in six months. With a guest like that sitting beside him, there was nothing he couldn't do.

He was still mapping out the stream when his phone rang. It was his hyung from the private coin circle — the one that operated off the record.

The second he picked up, the voice on the other end came at him in a rush.

"Of course it is. You get caught faking something like this and you're actually dead."

The rumor had already traveled that far. The man on the other end wasn't even trying to hide how worked up he was.

"Hahaha. You sure about that?"

A hyung who ran multiple bars in Gangnam, volunteering for housework. Minjae was only now grasping just how far Running Wild Horse's reach actually went.

"It's fine. After the stream we'll do the afterparty at your place. See you then."

"Don't worry. I'll drag him there even if I have to get on my knees. Oh — and depending how things go, I want to invite him into the circle. That's alright, yeah?"

Minjae had no intention of letting a meeting with Running Wild Horse end as a one-off. He wanted to build a real rapport — stay in touch for a long time.

Anyone in his position would have been thinking the same thing. Anyone who touched coins, at least.

I just hope he's not a complete asshole.

The coin circle Minjae ran with was a tight five-man group. It had started as a way to get close to the whales he'd met through streaming, and by now it looked less like a hangout and more like a proper trading club.

He wanted Wild Horse in it.

"How long has it been since we had a new face?"

The circle had a handful of rules, and one of them governed new members.

First: a seed of at least two billion won.

Second: a trader whose skill every single person in the room could acknowledge.

Third: unanimous consent from every existing member.

The first two were steep, but every so often someone came along who could clear them. The last condition was the real wall. Getting five men of completely different temperaments to all say yes was no small thing — which was why it had already been a year since the last new member had walked in.

If Wild Horse joined on the back of tonight, it might put some life back into a circle that had been going slack.

"That I don't know yet. We've only texted, and the profile's all weird pictures."

"No idea."

The man was wrapped in so much mystery that there wasn't a single thing anyone could say for certain.

Minjae had never wanted an evening to arrive more in his life.

Having agreed to meet Pongpongi — or rather, BJ Minjae — I spent the entire day pacing in front of my closet. I'd been called a legend in the industry, more or less, and I wanted to keep at least a shred of dignity intact.

"I don't want to look like a total loser."

But a closet belonging to someone who never shopped for fun was never going to hold anything convincing. The only halfway decent outfit I owned was the one I'd worn to the hotel with Jieun.

Yeah, no. Not this.

BJ or not, a guy was still a guy. I had no interest in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wearing the same clothes I'd worn to see Jieun.

I gave up on finding an answer at home and left well ahead of the meeting. If I was going out anyway, I figured I might as well shop first and head to the meetup from there.

I steeled myself and made for the department store.

A weekday afternoon — the place was mostly empty. I started by wandering the luxury hall. Brands I actually recognized sat alongside names I'd never heard of in my life, storefront after storefront.

I don't want to look like some tacky rich guy.

Even with all those options, I couldn't quite make ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my feet move. I didn't know the first thing about fashion. One wrong call and I'd walk out of there looking like a lottery winner who'd just discovered money.

Ah, forget it. Next time.

I promised myself a future attempt and turned around, then went looking for something mainstream and familiar. The goal was the bare minimum. As long as I didn't look pathetic, that was enough.

I was in the middle of repeating the same familiar looks from the same familiar brands when my phone rang. Hui-gyeong — the same Hui-gyeong who had earned herself a full night of my anger.

Yesterday came back in a rush, and my teeth ground together on their own.

"What do you want?"

"What happened with what?"

She went straight for the sensitive question, no warmup. She must have gotten the wrong idea after Jieun and I bailed on the drinks last night. As far as I was concerned, that particular misunderstanding wasn't a problem.

"No, we're not. Jieun just doesn't want to meet guys for a while, so we left. Which means you can stop shoving random weirdos at her."

"You're saying that to my face? Have you lost it?"

I couldn't tell if she was picking a fight. Even if it was technically true, hearing it said out loud still pissed me off. I wanted off the phone.

"Whatever. Why are you calling me about this? Go ask Jieun."

"I said we're not."

But the longer I stayed on the line with Hui-gyeong, the more a thought started to settle. The idea that Jieun and I were together had come to her a little too easily — as if she already knew exactly how I felt.

I asked, just in case.

"You know I like Jieun, don't you."

Sure enough, a disbelieving little laugh came down the line.

"...That so."

Hui-gyeong said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. To me, it landed differently.

To be fair, I hadn't exactly been subtle.

My mother used to say there was no reason to be ashamed of liking someone, and no reason to hide it either — especially not for an ordinary guy like me.

So from the time I was a kid, I never bothered burying how I felt. I never came out and asked Jieun to date me, but I told her she was pretty the way other people said hello, and whenever I missed her I was the one who reached out first and made a nuisance of myself.

Given all that, I'd always figured Jieun — and Jieun's friends — might already know.

But thinking something and having it confirmed to your face were two different things. It was the same as a coin that could go up or could go ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠down. You never really knew until you saw it happen.

This was the first time anyone had said it to me directly.

So Jieun knows too, then.

Something I had only ever half-suspected turned out to be real, and the knowledge left my chest in a knot.