Not Bad

Not bad. Siyun's decision ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was unwavering.

The three employees, on the other hand, looked frozen solid.

"Holding... did you say holding?"

Yang Miyeong asked, forcing herself to stay calm. She, too, could hardly believe what she'd just heard.

The upper limit had broken, and the order book was flickering so fast the price changes were hard to follow with the naked eye.

Screeeech.

Screeeech.

The swings were exceeding five percent. Three hundred million won appeared in a single second, vanished, and appeared again, over and over. No matter how much trading experience these employees had, they had never seen anything like this. Staying calm while hundreds of millions of won sloshed back and forth was easier said than done.

Siyun spoke into the microphone.

"Hold your position."

A short answer. Yang Miyeong pressed her lips together, as if trying to hide her shock.

"Understood."

But Go Guhyeon, fidgeting in his seat, eventually couldn't hold his tongue.

"Team Leader... it's likely to fall to the lower limit now. The momentum has already shifted. With no resting bids left to support the price, holding is... it looks far too dangerous."

Go Guhyeon's large face had flushed red. Siyun studied it for a moment, then asked.

"Guhyeon, what are your assigned duties?"

"My duties are... monitoring executed positions and... reporting to the Team Leader if the loss limit is exceeded..."

"So. Have we crossed the loss limit?"

"W-well, no, but..."

While they spoke, Juil Express's price was drifting further and further from its upper limit. The take-profit point was 56,100 won. If it fell to +21.4%, he planned to dump everything. That range was the minimum condition Siyun's analysis had identified for the trend to hold, and he intended to wait it out until the price hit 56,100.

Before anyone noticed, the price was at 56,500. The moment to take profit was closing in. Yang Miyeong, in charge of execution, carefully closed her hand around the mouse.

Just as fear began to spread through the room—

Screeeech!

A massive wave of buying rushed in. In an instant, Juil Express began climbing vertically.

"Wh-what?! It's going back up!"

The price, which had dipped into the +22% range, was already charging back toward its upper limit. While everyone rubbed their eyes in disbelief, Juil Express posted a gain of +30%, smothering the panic.

He glanced at the clock. 9:32. Thirty-two minutes after the market opened, Juil Express had ended its war.

"The buy orders are stacking up again!"

"At this rate, I don't think it'll collapse easily?"

Only then did the employees let out sighs of relief. Watching them, Siyun spoke.

"Juil Express is the center of the entire nation's attention. It's on the news, on personal YouTube broadcasts, even covered by foreign media. It's the stock even people who've never cared about investing know by name."

Perhaps because of Siyun's dry tone, everyone's faces stayed tense.

"If it were headed for the lower limit, it wouldn't have wobbled around like this. It would have plummeted straight down."

Then his gaze shifted to Go Guhyeon on the monitor.

"Go Guhyeon."

"Y-yes..."

"I'd like you to remind yourself what your job actually is."

"I-I'm sorry..."

Buy orders were still piling up in the trading window. Siyun checked the chart once more, then addressed the employees.

"It looks like we'll close at the upper limit today, but if anything unexpected happens, call me."

"Yes, sir!"

Siyun turned off the monitor and rose from his seat.

All afternoon, Siyun sat not in the booth but on the office sofa. Even during breaks, he checked on Juil Express. It was still holding its upper limit—backed by strong buying pressure.

Fifty-four percent profit so far. And this wasn't the end. If they ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠realized the gains tomorrow, the final profit would likely top 3.5 billion won.

Another investment warning is coming, no doubt.

The stock had posted back-to-back limit-up days and become a national obsession; the exchange wasn't going to sit on its hands. It would be safest to close out the position before the warning dropped.

As he scrolled through financial news, the phone in his pocket buzzed. It was the one he used to communicate with the SST staff. Go Guhyeon's name appeared on the screen.

His voice was trembling. At the interview he'd shown real nerve, and his personal trading record had been excellent—yet his heart apparently wasn't as strong as Siyun had assumed.

But Go Guhyeon was new. For a rookie, it was an understandable slip.

"I wasn't angry. That's just the way I talk."

"R-really...?!"

"Everyone makes mistakes. I did. Every employee at Hansan Securities probably did. But a mistake that repeats itself isn't a mistake anymore. It's a lack of skill. You understand what I mean, right?"

"Yes, sir. I understand perfectly. I will never repeat the same mistake again."

Siyun hadn't meant it as a rebuke, yet the man's voice had gone rigid.

"Relax. Stop looking at the money and just look at the numbers. Then the path will show itself."

"Yes... thank you for your guidance."

After hanging up, Choi Tae-wook came over.

"Director, was today a slightly anxious day for you?"

"Again? This mood-reading game of yours?"

"Haha, a game, hardly. I just picked it up naturally. You kept rubbing your chin and neck today. That means you were wrestling with something, correct?"

"Right answer. What prize should I give you?"

"No prize necessary, haha. Well then, I'm off to make deliveries."

Choi Tae-wook headed straight for the warehouse. Truly a unique friend. Was it that observational acuity that made him so good at picking stocks?

He passed the time on the sofa like that, and soon quitting time arrived.

That evening, after dinner, he turned on the TV to a financial news channel. Beside him, Jeombak-i let out a groan of protest.

Whine...

"Hm?"

He'd noticed the robotic dog moving sluggishly all day, and a check confirmed it: the battery was nearly dead. He had spares somewhere, but he seemed to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠have lost them during the move.

"Hang in there a little longer. I'll run to the convenience store."

Whine...

He headed outside. He almost never came out at this hour, so on a whim, he took a stroll through Han River Park. That was where he ran into Assistant Manager Min So-hee. She was power-walking, and she froze in surprise when she saw him.

"Oh? What are you doing here?"

She sounded genuinely taken aback.

"Just coming back from the convenience store. Jeombak-i says he's hungry."

"Jeombak-i... oh, that robot dog of yours?"

"That's the one."

When Siyun rattled the batteries he'd bought, she laughed as if it were the funniest thing, then asked, "But why on earth is he named Jeombak-i? Spotty?"

"He was originally all white, so I was going to call him Snowy. Turns out he had a defect."

"A defect?"

The Jeombak-i that Bang Yo-han had sent over from Japan had been malfunctioning out of the box. After a great deal of trial and error, they'd finally found a repair shop, and the technician had opened up the dog's belly to fix it—leaving a long black mark across it.

And so Snowy became Spotty.

"Oh, so ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that's the story..."

With that, Min So-hee pulled two energy bars out of her pocket.

"Have one."

"I'm fine."

"Fine, he says. You told me you barely ever go outside. You spent energy, so you need to eat an energy bar."

"That wasn't a pun just now, was it?"

They ended up sitting side by side on a bench. Siyun gazed blankly at the Han River for a while before asking, "How's the trading team doing these days?"

"Same as always. The Team Leader shouts his head off every morning, and we're buried in executions. We still eat lunch at our desks, too."

Listening to her, Siyun found himself wondering something. Why had she chosen such a punishing line of work?

"Was being a trader your dream, Assistant Manager?"

"We're not even on the same team anymore—how about calling me by my name? It's a pretty one. Min So-hee."

"No, thank you."

"Tch."

She pouted, then answered the question anyway.

"My dad traded stocks. It started as a hobby, but somehow the household kept getting poorer. We went from owning our apartment, to a jeonse lease, to being practically kicked out into a monthly rental."

Siyun said nothing.

"My parents divorced when I was in high school. After that, it was just my mom and me. And of course that was exactly when I had to decide on my career path. I just got so curious. What was this thing called the stock market, that it could make a person so miserable?"

She bowed her head as if steadying her emotions, then lifted it again and looked at Siyun with defiant brightness.

"I wanted to face the thing that made me miserable head-on. And I wanted to beat it."

A smile touched her lips, but it couldn't quite erase the sorrow beneath it.

"So... did you win?"

"Still fighting. Round one! Round one! Like that."

She swung a fist through the air. Siyun turned his gaze back to the river, and then he said, "Well then. I hope you win."

The next day, he arrived at the office early, scanned the market conditions, browsed the news to pass the time, and then logged into the messenger. The SST employees appeared on his monitor.

"Good morning, Team Leader!"

"Morning, everyone."

He slowly studied the three faces. The tension had mostly drained away—except for Go Guhyeon, whose mouth was clamped shut like a vise.

"Guhyeon?"

"Yes, Team Leader!"

"Something on your mind?"

"No, sir. I'm keeping this mouth under control in case I put my foot in it again."

The employees on either side of him couldn't hold back their laughter.

"Like I told you yesterday—just relax. A stiff body makes a stiff mind, and going rigid like that won't help you either."

"Whewwww... understood, sir."

Only then did Go Guhyeon release the breath he'd been holding.

Five minutes before the open. Siyun addressed the employees.

"The odds are good we hit the upper limit again today—or somewhere near it. Today's objective is to catch the moment it peaks and starts coming back down. That'll be our sell signal. Exactly what price that turns out to be, we won't know until the market opens."

The employees swallowed hard.

"No need to be nervous. When I give the signal, dump everything at market price."

"Yes... understood."

His plan was to liquidate every last share before the investment warning landed.

The clock struck nine. The market opened, and Juil Express gapped up and began climbing fast.

After its steep ascent, Juil Express faltered just shy of its upper limit. Then the price swung violently and turned downward. Siyun spoke at once.

"Sell now."

"Yes, sir!"

Yang Miyeong, who'd had the sell orders queued and ready, dumped every share at market the instant the words left his mouth.

"Average entry 76,420 won. Full liquidation complete."

At her words, every eye turned to the Day Trading Ledger window. Siyun checked the results too.

The SST employees' jaws dropped in unison.

"Ninety-six percent... nearly a hundred percent in three days...!"

"This is real, right? I'm not dreaming?"

The employees' faces were dazed. Siyun looked at the faces on his screen and said,

"That's it for today's shift. When you clock out, go have some beef. There's a premium Hanwoo restaurant in front of the office called Woojung—the food should be excellent."

"B-beef?!"

"I'll wire you the money. Snap a photo of the receipt and send it to me tomorrow."

"Waaah! Thank you, Team Leader!"

Total profit: 4.8 billion won. Half of it was Siyun's share. Money made in three days: 2.4 billion won.

Watching his employees celebrate, Siyun murmured to himself.

"...Not bad."