Chapter 176: The Movie Begins
Chapter 176: The Movie Begins
I truly had no desire to attend the premiere of *The God of Investing*.
Three hours earlier, I'd gotten a text.
―Oh Myeong-woo: So today’s the day, huh.
―Kim Shin: Yeah.
―Oh Myeong-woo: A man has certain duties he must fulfill, even if it means kicking off the covers in regret later.
“Hoo…….”
Why on earth had I agreed to show up?
‘Was it a mistake from the start, deciding to produce the movie?’
I could’ve just made a cheap B-movie, but Dream Art Rainbow had roped in the top A-list actors from Korea, and they’d all signed on.
Hollywood staff had joined in droves, too.
―Vice President Jeong Beom-tae: To capture your childhood accurately, sir, we built seven enormous sets.
―Vice President Jeong Beom-tae: We recreated the PC bang where you worked part-time down to the last detail for historical accuracy. Keyboards, mice, mouse pads—even the components inside the towers are exact matches from twelve years ago. We replicated the fridge and the drinks on display as faithfully as possible.
No, did they really need to go that far with the PC bang?
They didn’t install an old version of Windows too, did they?
―Vice President Jeong Beom-tae: The semi-basement room where you lived for so long. Someone else was living there, and it was tucked away in such a narrow alley that we couldn’t get filming permits from the local authorities.
―Vice President Jeong Beom-tae: But who am I? After watching the miracles you create, sir, even I learned a thing or two.
―Vice President Jeong Beom-tae: We rebuilt that entire alley from scratch. Not with temporary walls or props, but actual construction—brick by brick, since it was brick houses. We even tried to replicate the cracks in the yard’s cement.
They rebuilt the houses in the alley just for the movie shoot?
―Vice President Jeong Beom-tae: We commissioned KEPCO and had them bring in old utility poles, planting them right in place.
The utility poles could’ve been faked……
I’d been sending the grandmother who owned that semi-basement 3 million won every month starting this year.
I’d already covered her medical bills last time, and pocket money would make her look reliable in front of her grandkids.
“Look cool out there.”
I slipped into the suit Jo Soo-ah had picked from the closet.
These were high-end pieces costing over $100,000 each, so I rarely reached for them.
But once I put it on, I definitely felt like clothes made the man.
“We’ll be late. Hurry up.”
“Got it. I’ll be back.”
Even heading into the office on a Monday felt easier than this.
* * *
Flashbulbs popped like fireworks!
The moment I stepped out of the Mercedes, reporters’ cameras exploded in a frenzy.
“This way, sir.”
Guided by the event staff, Lee Jong-yeop and I walked the red carpet together.
Security kept the press and crowd at bay effectively.
Lee Jong-yeop waved and smiled at the cameras.
“Hyung, the media frenzy is no joke. Looks like every outlet in Korea is here.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
I was used to dealing with the press by now.
It just felt awkward because this was *my* movie’s premiere.
“Look this way just once, please!”
A quick scan at the photo line wrapped up the entrance formalities.
I wasn’t at the blanket-kicking level of dread yet.
* * *
“Thank you all for coming. We never dreamed the CEO would attend the premiere.”
Seong Ho-jin PD, who I’d grown close with during my long stay in the States, greeted guests. He’d since become the director.
“Thanks for all your hard work making the film. I’ll enjoy it.”
“Haha, we poured everything into it.”
It might’ve been better if they hadn’t worked so hard.
“Right this way, sir.”
Following Vice President Jeong Beom-tae’s lead to Screening Room 1, where the film staff gathered, I crossed paths with actors, singers, and celebs in the hallway.
“Hello!”
“We’re Aurora 8!”
“Honored to meet you, sir. We’re the sparkling Shine Girls!”
Boy groups and girl groups bowed to me at angles of more than ninety degrees.
How hard they must’ve hustled to debut after clawing through trainee competitions.
“Thanks for coming out.”
I nodded lightly to each group as I entered the screening room.
“It’s Kim Shin, the CEO.”
“He really showed.”
Screening Room 1 buzzed with film industry folks.
The prime center seats had three rows cleared front and back.
VIP treatment, as expected.
“Have a seat here. Perfect angle, dead center to the screen.”
As Vice President Jeong Beom-tae guided me, everyone in the room stared our way.
‘Whoa, this is intense.’
I walked on, soaking in the actresses’ heated gazes.
Girl groups were cute, sure, but under the theater lights, the actresses’ aura was on another level.
The fully dolled-up ones were straight-up stunning.
“Thanks to everyone who made this film possible. I’m Kim Shin.”
Before sitting, I bowed deeply, earning applause.
Young directors and studio heads clapped enthusiastically.
Fortunately, my rep in the industry was solid.
I’d been the rainmaker for a film scene parched by COVID.
Me, Lee Jong-yeop, and security took the empty seats.
“The movie starts soon. It turned out great.”
I waited quietly as Vice President Jeong Beom-tae promised.
I was watching a film adaptation of my own past.
When I first heard the pitch, I’d imagined something like *The Social Network*—Facebook’s founding turned into an Oscar-winner.
Fwoom!
The theater lights dimmed.
‘Here we go.’
The film opened with the protagonist’s childhood.
A cute boy in shabby clothes appeared.
“Kim Shin. Let’s go on a trip with Dad.”
“A trip?”
“Yeah, a trip where we can make lots of money. I’ll buy you a hot dog.”
“Really?”
The boy rode a kindergarten yellow bus to Jeongseon Casino in Gangwon with his father.
While Dad gambled, he waited in the bus or stood by the road watching people.
“Tsk tsk, you here with your dad?”
“Yeah.”
“Get yourself something to eat.”
Passing uncles pitied him, slipping him 1,000-won bills.
Then the debt collectors came to the house, and Dad went on the run.
‘So that’s what my past looked like.’
Real events, since Dad was a gambling addict, but too extreme for ordinary folks to grasp.
“Dad, I need 5,000 won for reference books.”
“Shin-ah, Dad’s got his whole fortune right here—30,000 won.”
“So?”
“Tonight, I’ll turn it into 150,000. Then I’ll hook you up with book money *and* allowance.”
Seeing him lose every time yet swear “today’s the day” brought back memories.
He was a great guy aside from the gambling, but he never quit.
The film rolled on, the protagonist struggling through his teens.
School friends from interviews? They’d recreated my student days.
There was one important difference, however...
The protagonist studied like mad and excelled in sports.
Girls adored him.
“Shin-ah, I like you.”
“Jung-yeon-ah.”
“Yeah?”
A stunning teen actress—the spitting image of my youth—heard my lookalike lead say:
“Do you know how beautiful the world is?”
“Huh?”
“You’re as beautiful as that world. But I don’t have the money or time for liking people. Sorry.”
“……”
The onscreen me spouted nonsense and coolly walked away.
‘Is this a comedy?’
Confusion hit.
‘Back then, I was a total loser in school, scraping by. Sure, I dreamed of dating.’
In high school, the protagonist worked part-time, studied finance at home till nosebleeds.
―Know money to make money.
―Money moves the world.
―I will never fail.
Wall-posted mottos.
I’d told Seong Ho-jin PD about my early money obsession in interviews, but they’d glamorized it like this?
Next came the scenes set at Arcor.
The film showed me chatting with coworkers on the rooftop.
“Real estate! Real estate! Seoul property never drops! Today’s the cheapest it’ll ever be!”
“Sigh, if only I’d bought Isung Electronics twenty years ago.”
“Ten years back, Mirae Heavy Industries was supposed to explode.”
“Yeah, right. It’s been stagnant ever since.”
He nodded subtly or pondered calmly during their investment talk.
“The flow of capital……”
It showed me sipping coffee from a paper cup on the rooftop in winter.
The fictional Kim Shin pondered global finance and seemed to be patiently waiting for his moment.
‘All I thought about was eating pork stir-fry on the company card…….’
Broke as I was, what investment worries?
Once again, he gazed across Seoul from the rooftop while sipping instant coffee.
The cityscape shifted beautifully through spring, summer, fall, winter.
Not raw truth like *The Social Network*, but a hyped-up version of me.
* * *
Ellie at JP Morgan had risen to star manager status.
Her returns, negative post-COVID, had dazzlingly rebounded in a year and a half.
[Returns: 280%]
On Wall Street, high returns made you king.
As Kim Shin and Investor A’s dedicated manager, Ellie’s name rang through the industry.
“Ellie, thoughts on coal funds?”
“China’s real estate market’s looking shaky. Know anything about bond issuances?”
Coworkers constantly sought her take.
Ellie craved Wall Street success.
Not middling high returns for a few years, raking incentives to climb exec ranks.
‘I want to launch my own fund, investment firm—with my name on it.’
Ellie had spent four years on Wall Street.
Despite the daily grind, she still thought about Kim Shin from time to time.
She’d sidelined love for ambition, and he’d left her.
If she ditched love, she had to succeed.
‘Bubble, inflation, stock crash scenarios…….’
For Kim Shin’s request, she’d built portfolios for over six months across scenarios.
Her team consisted of two subordinates.
“Marian, Violet. Time to execute.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
The blonde beauty pulled a hair tie from her desk, tying her hair back tight.
With her two staff, she unleashed orders via the internal system.
The Dow, Nasdaq, and S&P 500 had all reversed direction.
Heavy short-selling across stocks, aggressive put option buys.
“My God, what’s going on?”
Orders topped $23 billion, drawing Senior Manager Choi Jae-bok.
Ellie didn’t look up.
“Fulfilling a client request.”
“A client?”
Excluding pensions, how many clients at JP Morgan could trade over $23 billion daily?
But she handled private clients.
“Kim Shin’s orders?”
“Can’t discuss client details.”
Even unspoken, the action spoke volumes.
She wasn’t hiding much anyway.
Kim Shin’s fame alone—betting on a downturn—would sway the market.
JP Morgan kept it tight, but the scale and style leaked across Wall Street.
Massive shorts and puts.
It was a bold portfolio, and an enormous volume of orders poured out from Ellie’s team.
“Sell our holdings.”
“What? Why?”
“Kim Shin’s moving.”
“Seriously?”
Wall Street watched Kim Shin’s every play.