If You're Told to Cut, You Cut
"Managing Director. Did you see the personnel announcement that just went up? Delta One is suddenly getting a new hire?"
"Yes. That's right."
"We don't exactly need additional headcount."
"You don't bring someone in only when you need the extra hands."
Song Jiwoon could not, for the life of him, make sense of this transfer.
"Delta One recruits exclusively from engineering backgrounds, sir. People skilled at programming and rigorous mathematical design."
"The one coming to us is, how should I put it... a little special."
"I'm well aware. He made a name for himself in the Research Center, and then at the Trading Division he tore down a 10-billion-won sell wall without blinking and pulled in an enormous profit."
"Then you know him well."
"That's exactly why it puzzles me. The man is pure instinct, isn't he? A wild animal. Bring him into the Derivatives Division and he'll be climbing the walls. This place will feel to him like a cage."
This was a place where money was made through meticulous mathematical analysis and design.
Not a place to charge in headlong with beastly instincts and sheer nerve.
"I know. Which is precisely why the higher-ups want to send him to us."
"Pardon?"
"They want him to learn precision. To breathe in rhythm with the market itself."
"That doesn't make any—"
"Why do you keep picking at it? This isn't the first incomprehensible order that's come down from above."
"..."
He couldn't argue with that.
Corporate directives had always been, by nature, an unbroken chain of things no one could understand.
"From now on, take him with you to every meeting. Walk him through all of Delta One's active contracts and core operations in detail. Ask for his opinions, too."
"He knows nothing about our work. He won't have anything to offer."
"That's why he doesn't know. So watch closely what he says when he looks at our operations, and report it to me every day."
"I'm sorry, what?"
Just who was this Deputy Kang Suho, that he warranted treatment like this?
"Don't overthink it, Song. What's the style here in Yeouido? No matter your résumé, no matter your status — prove your skill, and the opportunity is yours. This is no different. Kang Suho has already proven himself more than once, and now it's simply Delta One's turn. Our job is to support him so that ability of his has room to run."
"..."
Then just leave him in the Trading Division — why drag him all the way up here? He wanted to protest, but one look at the Managing Director's face said the conversation was over.
"...Understood, sir."
"Good. Finish up your work and come report this afternoon."
"Yes, sir."
Leaving the office, he barely managed to resist slamming the door behind him.
He was still swallowing his anger as he stepped into the elevator — and then—
"...!"
The name on the badge of the man already riding inside leapt out at him.
[Deputy Kang Suho]
The monster of a new hire who had been racking up insane results ever since his transfer.
If the Research Center had felt like a library, this place — true to everything he'd heard — felt like a laboratory.
The office was immaculate from end to end, and every object sat squared away at perfect right angles.
It was clean enough to make you wonder whether someone here had a genuine case of obsessive-compulsive disorder.
"From today, Deputy Kang, this is your desk."
"Ah, understood."
Team Leader Song, whom he'd run into by chance in the elevator, was remarkably sharp-edged, his clothes without a single wrinkle out of place. The sort of man who clearly managed himself with obsessive precision.
"Do you usually leave your things scattered around?"
"Excuse me?"
"I'm sensitive about that sort of thing. Keep your desk clean at all times. And when you use company equipment, maintain it exactly as you see it now — angles and all."
"Ah... yes. I'll do that."
So that was why the office looked the way it did.
"Then let's move. Come on."
"I'm sorry — what?"
"You'll be with me all day. I have back-to-back meetings across the division, so you'll watch and learn. Ah, right — you were our firm's ace, weren't you? Not much for you to learn, then. I won't need to explain derivatives in painstaking detail, either."
"..."
"So listen carefully today, and if you have an opinion, feel free to voice it. Understood?"
"Ah... yes."
The truth was, Suho had only the fundamentals where derivatives were concerned — nothing like an expert's command.
But he couldn't bring himself to say that to a team leader whose eyes seemed ready to eat him alive on the spot.
"We're busy, so let's go."
"Yes, sir."
The moment he sat down in the first conference room behind Team Leader Song, an employee in glasses fired a laser pointer at the screen.
"The current KOSPI 200 options volatility skew is excessively tilted toward the puts. Implied volatility on out-of-the-money puts has climbed to eighty percent of its historical high."
"And?"
"Delta is hedged to neutral, but gamma risk is the problem. If the index plunges, our negative gamma means position losses could compound exponentially."
All the derivatives jargon Suho had once studied came flying out, one term after another.
Team Leader Song didn't so much as twitch an eyebrow as he issued his orders in a flat, dry voice.
"How are you managing vega?"
"We're currently long vega, so we're positioned for expanding volatility — but theta is bleeding out fast. Time decay alone is running two hundred million won a day."
"Then scale up the covered calls to defend theta. And don't just carry the out-of-the-money puts — bundle them into spreads and distribute the risk. Fence the gamma in with strangles so it doesn't run wild."
"Understood. I'll rebalance immediately."
Click-clack-clack-clack.
The traders began hammering their keyboards at a maddening pace.
Suho could only stare blankly at the scene.
So this is how Delta One works.
In the Research Center, they had analyzed the value of companies; at the Trading Division, they had read supply, demand, and market momentum. But here... here they were waging war with mathematical formulas.
"Getting a feel for it, Deputy Kang? Trading works off the data and forecasts the Research Center hands down. This is different. This is a place that builds formulas designed so rigorously that you don't lose so much as a tenth of a won."
That was the nature of Delta One.
Traders made predictions. Here, they engineered structures — flawless designs built to generate profit in any scenario.
Even if that profit amounted to a mere tenth of a won, they scraped it together tens of thousands of times over until it compounded into something enormous.
"Your impressions?"
"I never really knew how the Derivatives Division operated, so I feel like I'm getting a valuable education today. You and everyone here — you all look magnificent, like true masters of the craft."
"..."
The team leader studied him with an expression that said he hadn't expected that answer.
"It's a far cry from the Trading Division. Doesn't it feel stifling?"
"No. I still have a great deal to learn, but the idea of generating returns through an approach like this — I find it fascinating. Genuinely enjoyable, too."
It was no lie.
The sheer refinement of it — that investments of such precision were even possible — left him in genuine awe.
"Then let's move to the next conference room."
Without a moment to catch their breath, they moved to the second meeting.
This one was an even more extraordinary sight.
The screen was packed edge to edge with dense equations and probability distribution tables.
"This is the structure of the ELS we're about to issue. The underlying assets are the S&P 500 and the EuroStoxx 50."
"The structure?"
"Three-year maturity, step-down type. The early-redemption barrier starts at ninety percent and steps down to sixty by maturity. In other words, we pay the coupon even if the index drops forty percent — but if it ever gets cut in half at any point during the term, principal loss is locked in."
Team Leader Song flipped through the documents and cut in with surgical precision.
"You pay interest as long as it doesn't get cut in half? The yield won't come anywhere near what we need."
"That's why we burned some volatility into it. A handful of companies have seen their volatility spike recently, so option premiums are expensive. We ran the simulations — probability of principal loss came in under zero point three percent. The index conditions look favorable too."
"Even so, the structure needs another pass. Tell Sales we'll set the coupon yield at seven percent. Have them configure it that way."
"Yes, sir."
There was something called a Monte Carlo simulation.
A program that ran anywhere from one hundred thousand to a million randomized trials. Major securities firms maintained dedicated high-performance computing servers for exactly this purpose, using them to grind out simulations and find the optimal formula.
Same building, and yet the people up here seemed to live in an entirely different world.
"Last item on the agenda: the Wire Credit project. It's essentially complete — all that's left is signing the contract."
Wire Credit?
That was a company Suho knew very well.
Germany's flagship fintech firm — grown so large it had earned a place in the DAX, the country's benchmark index.
It was aggressively pushing international expansion, too, a company with every chance of multiplying its growth several times over.
"Ah — you wouldn't be familiar with this one, Deputy Kang. Here, read this."
A DLS worked like this: the securities firm bought up a company's bonds, then repackaged them wholesale into an interest-paying product and sold it to investors.
In a word — selling someone else's debt as a gift-wrapped income stream.
"This is a project we've been working on for months. We beat out the competing firms and barely clawed this deal away — it's a massive one. The size alone tops three hundred billion won."
They would buy up three hundred billion won of Wire Credit's bonds, resell the package domestically, and pocket the margin.
And Wire Credit — of all companies — was more than worthy of the bidding war.
"What did you make of the report? It's solid, right? The balance sheet is stable, the growth potential is enormous, the company's ratings are excellent. You were the ace of the Research Center — one look and you can size it up, I'm sure."
Frankly, it was the kind of company where reading the report felt almost like a formality.
Everyone in Yeouido knew Wire Credit; every rival securities firm had been drooling over the deal.
"Hm?"
And yet — why?
"!?"
The moment he unfolded the report, the stench of a rotten sewer drove straight into his nose.
"So? How was your day with Deputy Kang Suho?"
"Well... not bad, sir."
Managing Director Park, receiving the report, let out a snort of laughter.
"At first his face was full of mischief, but it seems you've taken a bit of a liking to him now?"
"..."
He couldn't deny it.
Team Leader Song had expected Kang Suho's first impression to be insufferably arrogant.
After all, the man had come up through the Research Center and then delivered major results at the Trading Division.
Surely his nose would be pointed at the sky — but surprisingly, he was polite, and he showed a genuine eagerness to learn.
Beyond that, he even seemed to find the work here interesting.
So instead of just dragging him through meeting after meeting, Song had shown him the large project currently in progress and asked for his opinion.
"The large project... you mean Wire Credit?"
"Yes, sir. With your approval, the contract will be finalized by tomorrow."
"This is a real catch. A beauty of a deal. The competition must have been fierce — good work bringing it in."
"Thank you, sir."
The Managing Director reached for his approval stamp — then froze.
"But... you showed this to Deputy Kang Suho already?"
"Yes."
"What did he say about it?"
"He wasn't pleased with it, sir."
"What?"
"He says he'd rather recommend something else."
Managing Director Park set down his pen.
"Something else? Like what?"
"The Rare Earth ELS, sir."
"Rare earths? Is the outlook good right now?"
"No. It came up as a candidate once before, but it was passed over and we went all-in on Wire Credit instead."
"And out of nowhere, he recommends that one?"
"Yes. He claims it looks better to him."
"On what basis?"
"He didn't give a proper explanation."
At those words, the Managing Director's face suddenly turned grave.
"He really said that? That Wire Credit isn't worth it?"
"He didn't put it that bluntly... but that was the unmistakable thrust of it."
"I see."
Park drummed his fingers on the approval board, lost in thought.
Before long, his face hardened with decision.
"Team Leader Song."
"Yes, sir."
"Scrap Wire Credit."
"!?"
For a moment, the shock stole his voice entirely.
"S-scrap it, Managing Director? This deal?"
"Yes. Erase it like it never happened. Instead, restructure it as the Rare Earth ELS. That can be done in no time, can't it? Right?"
"B-but sir! This deal took months of grinding work — we barely wrestled it away. If we scrap it now, we will never win a contract with Wire Credit again, and Ilseong, our direct competitor, will swallow the whole thing! We'd be setting the table and handing it straight to Ilseong!"
"You think I don't know that?"
"Then why on earth—"
Park let out a short sigh.
"Team Leader Song."
"Yes, sir."
"When you're told to cut, you cut. Understand? Even if something goes wrong, there's no one here to hold you accountable. Someone far, far above me will take the blame for you."
"I... beg your pardon?"
"No more questions. Do as you're told."
What protest could he possibly make when the man above him was promising to shoulder everything himself?
In the end, Team Leader Song trudged back to his own desk.
"...Scrap all of this?"
Months of grueling work, thrown away just like that.
But without the Managing Director's approval, the project simply could not move forward.
And someone above Park would personally take responsibility.
What in the world—
"Whew."
Thinking it over any deeper would only make his head hurt more.
He had no choice anyway.
Tap-tap. Tap-tap.
Half in a daze, he sent out emails to one department after another.
The project had been suspended.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
Before long, messenger windows began popping up from every direction.
Every single one of them said the same thing: nobody could understand why this project was being halted.
"..."
Team Leader Song had plenty he wanted to say — that he didn't know the reason either, that some new deputy had come along and muddied the waters.
"..."
But he forced himself to stay calm, and relayed to the messenger exactly what the Managing Director had told him.