Chapter 8: Flex
Chapter 8: Flex
Having a lot of money is nice.
The more you have, the insanely better it is.
‘There’s a saying online: if you’re not happy, consider whether you just don’t have enough money.’
A fortune of one hundred million dollars was a staggering amount.
A Han River view apartment, a luxury sports car, designer clothes.
It was enough to live a life of luxury forever, even if I spent lavishly.
‘Though, if I keep pulling out a few hundred thousand at a time, the principal will shrink quite a bit.’
One hundred million dollars was an immense fortune, but now that I actually had it, I found myself worrying about the principal decreasing.
I had only ever saved money, never spent it properly.
Though it was an amount so large that typical spending wouldn't even make a dent.
‘There are some truly incredible rich people in the world. I’m nothing compared to them.’
The world was full of wealthy people who spent two or three hundred million dollars on a yacht they used once a year as a hobby.
Land worth hundreds of billions, stocks worth trillions.
When you valued the equity of company owners, there were quite a few wealthy individuals with fortunes in the hundreds of billions.
‘The joy of making money...’
I had given up on so much in my life.
Poverty had forced me to give up my childhood; I’d been thinking about survival since my teens.
Maturing early is never a happy thing.
In my twenties, my mind was filled with nothing but thoughts of making money. And it was the same now.
The chairmen of corporations who had built enormous wealth.
I never understood why they diligently went to work even in their old age, but now that I was rich, I thought I understood.
‘Making money is the most fun thing there is.’
* * *
After some quick research online, I visited a real estate agency.
Perhaps because it was Gangnam, the staff consisted of slender women in their late twenties.
“Welcome.”
“I’m looking for a place.”
“What are you looking for? A studio? Or an officetel?”
“An apartment for lease.”
They must have assumed a man coming in alone was looking for a small place. The real estate agents flashed bright, professional smiles.
I had more than enough to buy, but I decided to test the waters with a lease first.
I was born and raised in Seoul, but this was my first time living in an apartment.
“There are a lot of lease listings these days. How many in your family?”
“I’ll be living alone.”
“So you’re looking for something around 20 pyeong, then.”
“I like large spaces, so I’d prefer something bigger. I’d also like a new building with a view of the Han River.”
A new building with a Han River view.
I never thought the day would come when I would utter such words.
“Ah, so you’re looking for a nice place. There’s a complex that was completed last year. A 34-pyeong unit goes for about 1.5 billion won on a lease deposit.”
I wasn’t as surprised as I might have been, since I’d already looked up the prices. Even lease deposits in Gangnam were incredibly expensive.
“Can I move in right away?”
“Yes. It’s vacant, so there are many units available for immediate move-in. We have a few on our books, so we can show you right away.”
Two female employees from the agency walked with me to tour the apartment complex.
The swimming pool, community facilities, landscaping.
“The construction company paid a lot of attention to the landscaping. There’s a garden along the walking path, and the central plaza features a water garden. See these benches? They’re made of rattan and cast iron.”
“Ah, I see.”
“Each playground in the complex has a theme so that children can learn and play at the same time.”
She explained various things, from the planted trees to the art installations, but frankly, after living in a semi-basement, everything felt luxurious.
Spacious, pleasant, and clean.
“The unit is on the 11th floor.”
When we entered the apartment, it didn't feel cold at all, even though the heat hadn't been turned on in the empty unit.
When I was married, we had rented a small villa in Gangbuk.
It wasn't as bad as my current semi-basement, but the winter drafts were severe, and it was terribly cold.
‘Nice. This is why people go on and on about apartments.’
Some people find apartment living suffocating, but I bet fifteen years in a semi-basement would change their tune.
No matter how often I cleaned, there was always a cockroach somewhere in the room.
It was a living ecosystem, cohabiting with all sorts of bugs you rarely see in the city.
‘The bathroom is clean, too.’
The place I lived in now had an old-fashioned squat toilet.
It was an old house, and the landlady had never renovated it.
I remember telling a few friends in high school, and they were all shocked that such a place still existed in Seoul.
Believing one should inspect a home carefully, I asked.
“There are no bugs here, right?”
“No, sir. It’s a high floor, so mosquitoes don’t come up this high.”
A few mosquitoes would have been fine.
Compared to the house centipedes, cockroaches, earwigs, camel crickets, mice, and swarms of gnats in my current place, wasn't that an improvement?
In fact, I had lived in a semi-basement for so long that I’d reached a state where I could distinguish between different types of cockroaches.
The most common, the light, yellowish-brown German cockroach.
The medium-sized Japanese cockroach with its black body.
The smokybrown cockroach with its smooth pronotum and wings that wrap around its body.
And the American cockroach, reaching up to 5cm in length and capable of short-distance flight.
When you live in a semi-basement for a long time, you inevitably develop the ability to tell a cockroach's gender.
From the living room window, I could see the Han River and the Olympic Expressway.
“The view is great.”
“Yes. It’s a unit with a great view of the Han River. We have listings on higher floors, too. There are still some that haven't been occupied.”
An 11th-floor Han River view.
I felt like a higher floor might make me a little dizzy.
The first time I went to the rooftop of my 20-story office building, I’d even felt a touch of acrophobia.
“Could I possibly see a larger unit as well?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll show you.”
When I saw the 40-pyeong unit, I could feel a sense of vastness and luxury that was different from the 30-pyeong one.
While I was at it, I looked at the 50-pyeong and 60-pyeong units as well.
‘Wow… the difference is huge.’
The 30-pyeong unit was perfectly fine, but the feeling changed as the size increased.
The difference in the lease deposit between a 30-pyeong and a 60-pyeong unit was a billion won.
I wondered what it would be like to live with a bedroom, a computer room, a hobby room, and a workout room all set up.
“I’ll take the 60-pyeong unit.”
A lease contract is about tying up your money, not spending it.
I decided to sign the contract, thinking I’d tie up another billion won in exchange for a taste of luxury.
“You’re so young, but you have a lot of money.”
While signing the papers, the landlord, who owned several properties, complimented me for the first time on having a lot of money at a young age.
I transferred the deposit immediately and received the passcode and keys to the unit.
Returning to the apartment alone, I was overjoyed, even though it was empty.
Standing in the living room, looking out at the Han River, a smile spread across my face.
* * *
There were so many things I hadn't been able to enjoy in my teens.
I gained a little financial freedom after starting part-time jobs and getting a full-time job in my twenties, but there were things I’d wanted to do in middle and high school.
Enjoying things you missed in your teens later in life is much less fun.
‘My interest in cars will probably wane as I get older.’
I had lived my whole life frugally.
But when it came to a car, I decided to spend boldly.
Wouldn't the satisfaction of driving a mid-size car in college be greater than that of driving a luxury foreign car in my 40s or 50s?
“Welcome, customer.”
I visited several car dealerships in Gangnam.
It was to pick a model that suited my taste.
‘Cars these days are all so good. I’d be satisfied with whatever I buy.’
The dashboard designs were flashy, the texture of the leather seats luxurious.
“Turbo S. It has a 4,000cc V8 engine, all-wheel drive, and 642 horsepower. It’s suitable for city driving, as well as sports and track driving.”
I was so captivated by the car that the salesman’s words barely registered.
Honestly, it felt absurd.
One or two trivial options cost over ten million won.
Nevertheless, I placed an order, thinking I couldn't live my whole life worrying about money.
‘I’ll save elsewhere. Just this once, I’ll indulge.’
* * *
It had only been two days.
The price of the coin, which had risen to $19,345, suddenly plummeted by more than $2,000.
Considering its history of major ups and downs, it wasn't particularly unusual.
“I broke my 20 million won savings account to invest, you know? But why did it drop the moment I bought in?”
“As they say, the higher the mountain, the deeper the valley. It’ll make up the loss and go back up soon.”
“You think so?”
“Of course. There’s a fixed supply of Bitcoin, so it can’t be issued endlessly like the dollar. You can’t even compare it to gold, which is constantly being mined. Limited editions always appreciate over time.”
“You’re right. Look how much it’s risen this year. There’s no need to get anxious over a drop of just 10%.”
Every morning at the office, my colleagues who had invested in cryptocurrency would engage in heated discussions.
Kim Sang-gi, claiming to have done his own research, spoke like a Bitcoin expert.
“Cryptocurrency will become the payment method of the future. You won’t have to worry about not having local currency no matter what country you go to. As long as you have Bitcoin.”
“Right, right.”
“Cryptocurrency is only unfamiliar to the public now because it’s still early. Just like how the internet became familiar and mobile phones became part of our lives! In just three or four years, cryptocurrency will be integrated into our daily lives.”
“Let’s go!”
“You can’t miss out on something so undervalued. Don’t ever sell!”
“Let’s gooooo!”
My colleagues were as excited as little kids.
Pharmaceutical companies are known for having a small salary gap between new and experienced employees, so people grew more sensitive about money and investments over time.
“I heard Director Seo put in 100 million and has already made 60 million.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. He invested just one week before us.”
“Director Seo, that guy has a knack for money. He was good at stocks, too.”
With people around them making ten or twenty times their investment in cryptocurrency, they felt they had no choice but to pull out their money and rush in before the window of opportunity closed.
‘This is why it’s a market ruled by greed.’
Human indicators, you could call them.
I had a feeling that the most dangerous time is when the people closest to you start jumping in indiscriminately.
Team Leader An asked with a smile.
“Assistant Manager Kim, you bought some coins last time, didn't you? How much is it now?”
“Well…”
Should I tell him it was a hundred million dollars?
They would probably all collapse from envy.
“I’ve sold it all now.”
“You sold? You just kicked away an opportunity to make money. Why on earth?”
They all looked as if they felt sorry for me.
“It’s just… checking the price dozens of times a day was so exhausting, I couldn’t take it. I couldn't even sleep soundly at night.”
“Come on. I know you worry a lot about money, Assistant Manager Kim, but you have to endure that kind of discomfort to invest.”
While Team Leader An was choosing his words, Kim Sang-gi spoke up.
“You don’t know much about investing, that’s why. Opportunities to make money like this don’t come around easily. This is a once-in-a-decade investment opportunity.”
“Is that so?”
“This is capitalism. It’s not strange for capital income to surpass labor income. It’s natural. In places like Silicon Valley, making 100 times your investment is nothing. There are cases where people make over 10,000 times their initial investment.”
“Hmm.”
“Think carefully. How long will it take you to buy a house by saving pennies? You have to seize the opportunity when it comes.”
That was Kim Sang-gi's advice, delivered with a look of pity.
The others agreed with his opinion.
“Assistant Manager Kim, fortune favors the bold.”
Listening to Team Leader An, I realized just how caught up in a rosy fantasy everyone was.
And then, three days later.
The price of Bitcoin was $12,531.
It wasn't quite cut in half, but it had lost nearly 40% from its peak.
“Wow. Did you check the price today? I put in 30 million last week. Now I only have 18.5 million left.”
“I put in 50 million. I’m at 39 million.”
“This is crazy. It’s falling like a waterfall. I didn’t sleep a wink last night checking the price.”
Unlike the stock market, cryptocurrency trades 24 hours a day, so many of my colleagues were losing sleep.
“Seniors, you have to invest when the price drops, not get scared. There's a saying, ‘Bet on fear.’ Bitcoin will rise again.”
Kim Sang-gi, leading the investment charge.
My colleagues were looking to him for guidance.
And through these human indicators, I smelled the lingering greed and opportunity.