Trust Me, It's Chocolate
"Anything new out of the Research Center?"
Securities traders comb through all manner of reports. They don't follow a report blindly just because it came from their own firm—and Daeseong's Research Center, after all, had a reputation for prediction rates that lagged behind the other major brokerages.
"As a matter of fact, the Center just uploaded an additional report."
"Really? I heard the institutions were specifically requesting reports on a different sector this time."
But it seemed the Center had been grinding its teeth, because this time it had delivered a genuine jackpot with semiconductors.
"Why is everyone suddenly so obsessed with the Daeseong Research Center? Last time around, you all tore into it—what kind of research is this, you said, a whole laundry list of insults."
"Ahem. Come on. Honestly, it deserved the flak back then. What kind of lunatic picks semiconductors?"
"Damn it. If I'd just gotten in and out quickly back then, I'd have made a fortune. I didn't have enough faith."
"If you regret it that much, you should have shorted this time. The Research Center literally told us to short and pocket the profit."
The problem was that the traders hadn't trusted the reports coming out of the Research Center.
"Who could've known that massive fire would break out in the Netherlands?"
Both the original Super Cycle prediction and the subsequent warning of semiconductor headwinds—on all of Yeouido, the Daeseong Research Center had been the only one to call it.
"They spoon-fed us twice and we still spat it out. This time we'd better listen carefully."
"Exactly. If we'd gone long when they said long and shorted when they said short, we'd all be throwing our bonus parties right about now."
Back then, though, doing exactly as the Research Center said had been simply impossible. The faith just wasn't there.
"So what are they recommending this time?"
Which was why, this time at least, they intended to do as they were told.
"Well... gaming stocks."
"Excuse me, what?"
"They're projecting that most of the major domestic game companies will post strong results this year. The report specifically highlights a company called Redhole. It's not a large firm."
The traders pulled up the report, and every one of them wore the same troubled expression.
"Good grief."
"Hmm."
"Of all things, why gaming stocks?"
It was fine, of course, that the Research Center had been making good calls lately. That raised the brand and the value of the firm.
But... how to put it.
"It feels like they're recommending us a piece of shit?"
"That is exactly what I'm feeling."
It was as if someone had brought over a lump of excrement and said, this is delicious, here, try a bite.
"The problem is, that turd is actually sweet chocolate."
The trouble was its appearance—it looked like shit, so the revulsion hit first.
"This time it really is shit, though."
Gaming was a market that had finished growing. The corporate expansion that had run from the nineties through the present had, after all, ground to a halt.
"The biggest problem is that our game companies have zero intention of making good games—they only think about how to squeeze money out of players."
That had recently emerged as one of the great ills of the Korean gaming industry. A farce born of companies obsessing over monetization schemes while utterly neglecting gameplay itself. As a result, investors no longer gave game companies the attention they once had, and the golden age of gaming had, for all practical purposes, ended.
"And they're recommending gaming stocks knowing all that full well."
"Do we take this or not?"
"Hey. Do we really have to taste it to know it's shit?"
"Didn't everyone say the same thing about semiconductors—and didn't they regret it?"
"That's that, and this is this!"
Was this a test? Were they testing the traders' faith?
"If you believe this, you might as well go join a cult."
"So nobody's biting, then?"
"You eat it. If they'd said buy biotech, maybe. This one I can't stomach."
"One lucky semiconductor call and you're getting way too cocky."
"I waited just in case, and... ugh."
As if they'd lost interest, the traders soon drifted back to their desks and their own work.
"......."
But when everyone chases the trend and prefers the mainstream—
"Is it really that bad?"
once in a while, someone has an eccentric taste.
.......
The looks the office people were giving me today were anything but ordinary. Everyone seemed to be staring at me, yet the moment I turned my head toward the gazes I could feel, they all played dumb as if nothing had happened. Then, the instant our eyes actually met—
"Oh, Intern Kang?"
"Ah, yes, sir."
"Weather's turned chilly today, hasn't it? Have one of these."
"I'm sorry?"
"These are genuinely expensive cookies I bought on a trip a while back. Try one. They're delicious."
"......?"
The deputy manager gave me a knowing smile and handed me an expensive cookie.
What on earth was going on? I'd barely finished the thought when—
"Oh come now, you can't just hand over a lone cookie. You have to give coffee too, don't you?"
This time it was the section chief, offering a cup of hot coffee.
"I only meant to make some for myself, but I brewed way too much. Have a cup, Intern Kang. It'll go nicely with the cookies."
From there it snowballed—someone pressed vitamins into my hand, someone else announced they were buying me dinner later. Suddenly everyone was falling over themselves to give me something.
"Heh heh heh. I know exactly why they're doing it."
"Why is that?"
"Everyone's a little embarrassed, but let's call it their way of expressing gratitude."
"Gratitude? To me?"
"Of course! Thanks to the major contract you landed with the semiconductor deal, Mr. Suho, our Operations Team is receiving an incentive for the first time in ages. I imagine everyone's feeling deeply conflicted—you're the intern who should be receiving the most help, and instead we're the ones being helped by you."
Ah, so it was too awkward to say thank you to my face, and instead they were each slipping me something as a small gesture of gratitude. A laugh escaped me before I could help it.
When I'd first arrived at this office, everyone had been so professional it intimidated me—but now they looked almost endearing.
"So if anyone offers to buy you something, don't refuse—accept all of it. They just want to convey how thankful they are, one way or another."
"You really don't have to."
It wasn't as if I possessed knowledge like theirs, nor was I any great analyst. I'd simply gotten lucky on the strength of this one mysterious, extraordinary sense of smell.
"Hmm~ Then I suppose I'll have to cancel my plan to express my gratitude by taking you out for some beef, just the two of us."
"......Refusing when someone is trying to express their gratitude would be rude. I'll absolutely be there."
"Then let's wrap up work quickly today."
"Yes, sir!"
Suddenly, my motivation blazed to life.
What was his secret, I wondered.
Truthfully, it probably wasn't anything all that complicated. Research is a more honest field than people think. You see exactly as much as you analyze, exactly as much as you know. In other words, the more you read and dissect compared to others, the better you get.
And the fact that Kang Suho found the minute differences nobody else could see, and turned them into predictions, meant—
"He must be steadily working through an unimaginable volume of material."
"I'm sorry?"
"Nothing. By the way, Section Chief—what's your read on Intern Kang Suho?"
"Ah, well... I think he's a capable kid. Look at the leisure sector, and he called the semiconductor swing all on his own, didn't he?"
"And his day-to-day conduct?"
"Unfailingly courteous. He's never once been late, and as the youngest, he throws himself into even the grunt work."
Right. That was the problem.
With so many Royal Family members worming their way into companies as Parachute Hires, the press had taken to hammering the practice relentlessly. So these days, plants sometimes disguised themselves as ordinary interns—but it always showed.
That tone, that manner—the way they looked down on everyone around them. That alone was enough for the people sharing an office to catch on.
"He seems passionate about the work, and good-hearted too. A blessing has definitely landed in our office, hahaha."
But Kang Suho had shown nothing but the exact opposite, every step of the way. With his pedigree and that uncanny analytical gift, surely a person was entitled to a little arrogance at least once? Watching him now, maybe that humility was his secret all along.
As the saying goes, the riper the rice, the lower it bows.
"About this latest report—the one on gaming stocks. The one Intern Kang picked."
"Yes, what about it?"
"Our Daeseong Securities traders aren't happy with it, it seems. They're saying they can't fathom why it was chosen."
"And the institutions?"
"The institutions are lukewarm too, but they'd already committed to the contract without question or condition, so they've chosen to trust it and hand over the money."
"And our traders all looked the other way?"
"Yes. All but a small handful."
Cheon Doa was so dumbfounded that a bitter laugh slipped out.
"Ha. How is it that our own traders have less faith than the institutions?"
"Honestly, I can't entirely blame them. As you know, the market's been in poor shape since last year. The China bubble, the THAAD dispute, Brexit... With so many traders already cleared off their desks, they can't afford reckless gambles."
Cheon Doa understood that much. For nearly two years, Yeouido had been passing through what could only be called its hour of death.
"Still, they're family from the same firm. The least they could do is pretend to believe."
"If you were a trader, Team Leader, would you buy the gaming stocks without a shred of doubt?"
"That's..."
Cheon Doa couldn't answer readily. In her own judgment, gaming stocks right now were a tremendous gamble.
"I..."
But after a moment's hesitation, she spoke again.
"In the end, I'd buy them."
"I'm sorry?"
"Suho recommended them, didn't he? No matter how absurd the stock, I think I'd choose to trust him once."
"......."
Judged by cold reason, staying out of gaming stocks was the correct call. But hadn't she learned, through her experience with the man named Kang Suho, that reason simply did not apply in the face of his predictive power?
From the opening bell to the closing one, the traders never stop moving their fingers. What is today's meta? Where does the money go? It is a world that demands ceaseless calculation and lightning-fast judgment—a world where a few seconds decide your returns. The one gambling hall sanctioned by the state. That is the stock market.
"......."
But today, there was one stock that had every trader's nerves wound tight.
"Huh? It's up three percent?"
"That's it coming off a quick spike. It hit five percent earlier."
"Ah. I should've just thrown a little in when they told us to and flipped out. Would've been tasty."
"It's just opening-momentum hype. Word is they opened the game for a few days of beta testing, and the reviews are good."
"So what? It's still a game made in this country, isn't it? And a pay-to-play one at that. Who's going to play that?"
Gaming stocks like this were dangerous. You could strike fast and get out, sure—but mistime your entry and miss your exit, and you were locked in forever.
"However good the reviews, it's still a domestic game, and they're all more or less the same."
"Right. Anyone going in here is a lunatic... huh? Hold on. What's going on with this?"
Before long, screams began erupting from every corner of the trading room.
"Hey—wh-why is this shooting up like this?"
"It's already past fifteen percent?"
"This thing is climbing like it's insane?"
The very gaming stocks they'd been so busy trashing were surging in unison. And at the crest of it all was Redhole, the company the Research Center had recommended so forcefully.
"I hear Battle Island is the talk of the overseas scene right now? Even in the test version, the concurrent player count has already blown through the ceiling."
"On top of that, foreign financial firms have put out reports. They're calling it the game company to watch."
"So that's why everything's piling in right now?"
It was a defining trait of the Korean market—its tendency to rotate by theme. When a major catalyst breaks, stocks across the same sector rise together.
"Even so, this is pure madness. It's a tiny company—how can it possibly move like this...!"
"Argh. If I'd known this would happen, I'd have gone all-in on Redhole."
"What about boarding now, even this late?"
"At this price? Are you insane?"
There's a famous saying in the stock market. 'Should've bought back when...'
And true to that eternal truth, the stock price that had launched like a rocket was now well on its way to Mars.