Chapter 8
Chapter 8
‘Huh…? Something’s different.’
The scent hitting my nose felt slightly unusual.
Until now, it had always been a pleasant fragrance. But now, it felt like it passed through my nose, coursed through my veins, and filled every cell.
Along with a refreshing sensation, it seemed to wash away all my fatigue.
Was it the anticipation of making money? Or was the scent itself having this effect? I couldn’t tell.
And there was something else.
‘It feels stronger.’
Subtle, but slightly more intense.
Of course, I couldn’t be certain. Maybe it seemed stronger because I inhaled it multiple times, or maybe the scent itself had intensified.
Curious, but I didn’t dwell on it.
“Deok-su? What are you doing?”
Team leader snapped me out of my trance.
“Ah, nothing.”
“But why do you think Salarion will rise?”
“….”
I couldn’t exactly say, “It rose because the scent told me.” My mind went blank.
‘I need a logical reason for why Salarion might rise.’
Other than knowing it was a pharmaceutical company, I didn’t have much information.
‘What should I say?’
I thought hard, and one reason came to mind.
“Because of its technology.”
The report earlier said the company had excellent technology.
“Technology, huh…”
“Sammi Semiconductor rose nearly 50% in two days thanks to technology. Salarion might have a similar potential.”
“Hmm…”
“And if the stock rises, the massive short-selling could trigger a short squeeze, pushing the price even higher.”
Team leader’s expression remained stern.
She meant the likelihood was low.
“Sure, it has strong technology. But to overcome that huge short position, you need a big catalyst. One shot.”
“Maybe a new drug succeeds?”
“Could be. But Deok-su, do you know how many new drugs have been developed in our country?”
How many could there be?
“Two to three hundred? Korea is strong in pharma.”
She chuckled.
“Only 31 so far. Thirty-one.”
“Wait, only that many?”
Far fewer than I expected.
“Developing a new drug takes at least 10 years—from target discovery to clinical trials to final approval. Costs billions. Success is not guaranteed. Even top global companies succeed only once in ten attempts. So small pharma companies don’t even dare dream.”
My jaw dropped. Hard, but this hard?
An almost impossible level of difficulty.
So the current rise isn’t due to a new drug.
I reviewed Salarion’s report again. The U.S. wasn’t listed in sales of their generic drug, Ramsma.
Why?
“Team leader, U.S.”
“U.S.?”
Her eyes narrowed briefly, then she looked surprised.
“You’re thinking of FDA approval?”
“…?”
The FDA is the U.S. federal agency overseeing drug approvals.
‘Ah, so that’s why there’s no U.S. revenue.’
Through her words, I realized Ramsma hadn’t received FDA approval.
“Well, if your idea is right, FDA approval could trigger a spike. But it’s not easy.”
“Of course.”
“So, what will you do?”
The rise seemed certain.
But when and why it would rise was unclear.
I didn’t hesitate.
This was a stock with a scent.
I couldn’t ignore a rising stock.
“I’ll buy.”
“How much?”
“All-in.”
Her eyebrows shot up.
“What? Deok-su, putting all eggs in one basket…”
“Team leader, even Warren Buffett didn’t diversify.”
“Hmm… that’s true.”
Warren Buffett, the father of value investing, recommends diversification for ordinary investors but focuses on specific companies after thorough analysis.
“But Deok-su, Buffett focused on undervalued or high-growth companies after careful research. And you?”
“….”
How to respond?
“I can’t explain in detail, but I did my own… diligent research.”
“You just picked, right?”
“I—picked? Animal instinct, gut feeling.”
“You picked.”
Ahem. No argument.
“Well, you do you. I’d never buy, but… if you split your purchase, you can lower the average cost. Handle it well.”
“Yes, understood.”
We finished the meeting.
After a short break, the market opened.
Salarion began rising immediately.
[Current Price: 85,200 KRW]
[Change: ▲1,000 KRW]
I decided to stagger purchases, like she suggested. Buying more if it dipped would reduce the average cost.
I placed orders in both mock trading and my actual account.
Bought 100 shares at 85,200 KRW in my account.
In the mock account, 300 shares.
The rising price started falling.
Bought again at 84,200 KRW, 100 shares.
The stock continued dropping; I bought in stages.
Final average: 590 shares at 83,500 KRW in my account.
1,700 shares in mock trading.
Thanks to her advice, I bought each share over 1,500 KRW cheaper.
Checked the time: 2:55 PM, 35 minutes before close.
Focus dipping—needed caffeine.
Thought of a strong iced Americano.
Looked at team leader—she’d probably want a sweet vanilla latte.
“Team leader?”
“….”
No answer. She was buried in eight monitors, fully focused.
I didn’t want to disturb her.
Quietly left.
‘Ah, better stop by the bank too.’
Withdrew 20 million KRW via one check, then got iced coffee for myself and a sweet one for her.
Back in the office, she still hadn’t noticed.
‘What is she doing?’
Half her monitors showed Salarion charts, announcements, and community posts.
Why Salarion?
“Team leader??”
She flinched at my voice, quickly minimizing windows.
“Hey! What are you looking at?”
“Coffee. Iced vanilla latte with extra syrup.”
“Oh, thanks.”
Her embarrassed expression looked like she’d been caught doing something naughty.
Why?
I asked, half-joking.
“You didn’t buy Salarion, right?”
“….”
After my meeting with Deok-su, Kim Yuri sat down to check emails.
Applications for the new team members had poured in.
Read them, but none impressed.
Still had to hire.
Market opened.
‘Better review applications later.’
She focused on the stock market.
Checked portfolio, foreign and institutional activity.
Then Salarion came to mind.
She would never buy it—yet curiosity piqued after Deok-su’s confidence.
‘Let’s see.’
Analyzed from multiple angles. For now, little potential.
Overvalued, typical for pharma.
Selling short seemed safer.
Yet Deok-su had been right three times in a row. Couldn’t ignore him.
She hesitated.
‘Okay. Just this once, I’ll trust him.’
Insufficient evidence, but she decided to follow him.
Had to stagger purchases—but had to buy now.
Ordered 10,000 shares.
Nearly 900 million KRW.
At that moment, a voice called her.
Deok-su, by her chair.
Had he seen everything?
Damn, tried to be discreet.
“You didn’t buy Salarion, right?”
“I did.”
“What? But you said it was bad.”
“I thought so, but changed my mind. In this market, flexibility is key. Our animal-instinct intern chose it; I couldn’t ignore.”
“And if it drops?”
“I’ll get a little flak.”
“No? What are you saying?”
She chuckled.
“Just kidding. Responsibility always lies with the investor. And if it drops, make it back. I’m Mirae Securities’ top trader. Didn’t invest too much anyway.”
[Order Executed]
A small pop-up appeared.
[Salarion Purchase Completed]
[Quantity: 10,000]
[Price: 84,000 KRW]
840 million KRW.
Much more than expected.
Meanwhile, at the shabu-shabu restaurant, owner Kim Pan-seok was cleaning.
Phone alert—loan interest due.
Sighed.
Wife Son Young-mi asked, concerned.
“Problem?”
“Loan interest… due.”
“Ah…”
No further words; both thought about rent and bills.
Kim Pan-seok felt sorry for his struggling wife.
Young-mi felt sorry for not being able to help him.
She worked at a nursery by day, restaurant by night/weekends, yet no improvement.
Couldn’t close early due to unfair franchise contract.
Early closure meant massive penalties.
“It’ll be fine. You work hard. Surely, it’ll work out.”
“Yes, it’ll work.”
Holding hands, they shared a rare, tender glance.
The restaurant was empty.
Kim Pan-seok cleared his throat; Young-mi nodded shyly.
-Ding!
The door flung open.
“Dad!”
Startled, they separated instantly—three meters apart.
Seeing his parents, I smirked inwardly.
“Whatcha doing?”
“Ahem.”
“Hmm? What’s up?”
They feigned ignorance.
“Back from work? Go rest.”
“I thought I’d help.”
“Go rest. You must be tired from a full day.”
“Okay.”
“Here. Take this.”
I handed a white envelope.
“What’s this? Already got paid?”
“Not salary… I earned some from investing. Use it for loan interest and rent.”
“You must be short… sorry.”
“Don’t be. Families help each other.”
“Yes. I may have failed in business, but succeeded in raising a child.”
“Right. Child-raising is a jackpot.”
Seeing them smile, hands clasped, I felt good.
“Then I’ll go.”
Kim Pan-seok and Young-mi stared at the envelope.
Their child, once tiny, now grown and responsible. Proud.
Curiosity: how much?
Kim Pan-seok carefully opened it.
A check.
“Why make a check…”
Checked the amount.
“200?”
Young-mi thought 2 million was a lot, but then…
“Give it here.”
“Here.”
She looked closer.
“Wait!!”
“Huh?”
“Two… two thousand. 2,000.”
“What? Two thousand??”
They blinked in shock.
Thanks to their son, a few months of worry lifted.
“Deok-su earned this by investing?”
“Yes.”
“Our son will be the world’s greatest investor? Like Warren Buffett?”
“Buffett, not Buffet.”
“Hmph. Our son will surpass Warren Buffett. He’s a genius.”
“Yes. A genius.”
Time passed, son grown—but their doting attitude remained.
On my way home, handing parents 20 million KRW, I passed the same franchise shabu-shabu.
Corporate-run, full of promotions, no seats.
Some jerk opened it less than 100 meters away after my father refused to sell.
I vowed revenge.
But no—capitalistic revenge: take their money, not emotions.
One day, I’d make it happen.
Team leader handed me dozens of applications.
“Deok-su, pick a deputy-level and manager-level employee. Who seems good to you?”
“Me? Why ask me?”
“Just curious. Guess.”
“Uh?”
She frowned.
Refusing now would show veins on her forehead.
I checked each profile carefully.
One applicant caught my attention.
Pleasant scent again.
‘Huh? Why here?’
This reaction felt different.