I Thought I Was Going to Die, You Bastard
I thought I was going to die, you bastard.
July 25th. Monday.
I stopped by the securities firm.
In 2026 you could tap into overseas derivatives with a smartphone app, but in this era you had to go through a brokerage. Besides, I had deposited four billion won in my account and was treated as a VIP, so I planned to use the firm rather than trade directly.
“Haha! Welcome, sir.”
The Private Banker I had met when opening the account greeted me with a smile.
“You like coffee, right? I went out of my way to get some premium beans when I heard you were coming. I tried it myself—the aroma is incredible.”
“Ah. Thank you.”
I took a sip. I still couldn’t tell how it was different from instant coffee. Coffee was for caffeine, not flavor.
After the coffee, we got down to business.
“As you requested last time, I converted your entire deposit into dollars.”
“Thank you for your trouble.”
“Haha, not at all. Now that the currency exchange is complete, I assume you came today to proceed with the investment?”
I nodded.
“That’s right.”
“As it happens, I’ve been watching the market and have a few promising stocks lined up. If I may explain—”
“No. I already have a place in mind.”
“Ah… I see. Which one…?”
“VIX-related derivatives.”
The employee’s smile froze in place.
Still, a professional was a professional. He quickly pulled himself together.
“S-sir? Did you say VIX…? You mean you want to trade VIX-related derivatives, not just check the Volatility Index, correct?”
“Yes. Futures.”
“……”
His pupils trembled like mad.
“Are you… expecting a major negative event in the market, sir?”
“Yes. The market doesn’t look good.”
He tried to keep smiling, but his eyes clearly said he was looking at a lunatic.
“Sir, even so, VIX derivatives are not the answer. Futures especially are extremely dangerous. Just holding the position will eat away at your principal. If you believe the U.S. market will decline, allow me to recommend safer, better products—”
“No. I’m going with VIX futures. Long position only. No shorts.”
“……Understood.”
Realizing words wouldn’t work, the employee squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them and handed me a consent form.
“This is the ultra-high-risk product subscription agreement. It confirms that I have explained the risks in detail and that this investment is being made at your own request.”
“Pen, please.”
“Just a moment, sir. Please reconsider one more time. What you’re attempting is truly dangerous. The market is unsettled, but if it stabilizes even slightly, your principal will melt away like ice cream—”
Scratch, scratch.
I signed.
“The agreement… has been received.”
“Please execute the purchase as soon as the market opens today.”
“Uh…”
The employee looked more ashen than I did. Apparently, if I took a huge loss, it wouldn’t be good for him either.
“Good work.”
“Please be careful on your way…”
I left the firm under his gloomy farewell.
I returned to the company, focused on game development, and went home.
July 28th. Thursday.
The market, which had been trending downward, rebounded slightly.
[You crazy bastard! Pull out right now!]
When I told Kim Seung-wook I had invested in VIX instead of an inverse ETF, he exploded. I answered calmly.
“Already bought.”
[Then sell it right now! Do you even know what VIX is? If the stock market rises just one percent, VIX drops roughly five percent! And you put three-times leverage on it?! Are you insane?!]
“I kept my promise. Exactly three times leverage.”
[Shut up and close the position!]
“Hanging up.”
[Hey! Wait! Don’t hang up—]
I ended the call and sat on the sofa, stroking Som-mungchi.
“Hoo…”
I had acted calm with Seung-wook, but I was just as anxious. No one stays sane while watching their account bleed in real time.
‘Stock experts really are something.’
Even though I knew Black Monday was coming because I was a regressor, investing was this difficult. Yet they bet tens or hundreds of billions on an uncertain future. Professionals in any field deserved respect.
July 31st. Sunday.
The crash still hadn’t arrived.
I was shocked by the loss report from my PB. Hundreds of millions of won had vanished from the account. I had been warned it was a dangerous investment, but the reality was worse than I imagined.
August 1st. Monday.
[Hey! Fuck! We’re screwed!]
A call came from Seung-wook.
“How did you even get a phone? Soldiers are supposed to be asleep right now.”
[I told the platoon leader it was an urgent call and borrowed it! More importantly, the U.S. political parties reached an agreement to raise the debt ceiling! You’re a VIP so you can contact the firm twenty-four hours, right? Call them right now and close the position!]
“I don’t trust politicians. Buy when there’s fear, sell when there’s euphoria. This is fear.”
[Fear my ass! Everyone else is celebrating the agreement! Stop talking nonsense, you short-selling bastard, and close the damn position!]
“I’ll think about it. Hanging up.”
[No! Think about what?! Your account is melting! How the hell are you so calm while your money is disappearing—]
I stroked Som-mungchi, who was purring on my lap, closed my eyes, and steadied my mind.
One day.
Two days.
Three days.
Four days.
Five days later, on the morning of August 6th, Saturday.
[Yihan!!! It happened! It actually happened! Holy shit, it happened!]
For the first time in history, the United States’ credit rating had been downgraded.
*
“Hahaha.”
Looking at the account now drenched in red, laughter spilled out on its own. It had been a long, humiliating, and oppressive wait.
The PB had begged me to close the position even now, Kim Seung-wook had sworn at me to come to my senses and threatened to tell my family, yet—
‘So whose words were right?’
Return rate: 480 percent.
The murderous fees and rollover costs (contango) while holding the position had eaten away more than thirty percent of the principal, but I had not only recovered it—I had made 5.5 times my original capital.
‘22 billion won…!’
The number of zeros on the account balance made my head spin. The money I earned from Dot Hero suddenly felt trivial.
Anyone else might have quit game development and decided to enjoy life or become a full-time investor with this kind of money, but—
‘Why did I make money in the first place?’
I made money to make games. I wasn’t making games to make money.
I contacted my PB.
“Convert one billion won into Korean won and deposit it into PlayForge Nexus’s corporate account. Of the remaining funds, invest fifty percent safely in large-cap blue-chip stocks that track the index, and the other fifty percent in the places I specify.”
[Send me the list and I’ll execute it immediately with the maximum fee discount!]
Unlike before, when he had tried to talk me out of every decision, he now answered “Yes!” without hesitation. I liked that.
‘This is why you have to succeed first.’
Respect dripped from the PB’s voice.
[Sir, if you ever predict market movements like this again… please let me know.]
“Well… all right.”
I had no idea what he was planning, but it wouldn’t happen. I had no intention of making another gamble this reckless.
‘I thought I was going to die, you bastard.’
I now knew exactly what it felt like to have your blood run cold. From now on, I would only make long-term investments in solid blue-chip stocks using my regressor knowledge. Futures? I wasn’t even going to look at them again.
“Director, you seem to be in a good mood today. Did something nice happen?”
I nodded at Cha Ju-hee’s sharp question.
“Yes. The debtor paid back the debt.”
“A debtor? You lent someone money?”
“No. I paid back the debt I owed myself.”
“???”
The profits had been deposited into PlayForge Nexus’s account, the parent company and investment vehicle.
First, I repaid the four billion won I had borrowed from PlayForge Studio. It was like moving money from my own account to my own account, but since the corporation was a separate entity, this was necessary to avoid complications.
“Client, which demographic are you targeting?”
“Children and women.”
“Hmm… You know games are usually aimed at adult males, right?”
“Yes. But according to the statistics we looked at, most adult males interested in games have already tried Dot Hero at least once. We judged that children and young women actually offer higher expected value.”
“Well, if that’s what you want.”
Next, I signed a contract with a TV advertising agency targeting North America. Dot Hero’s growth had slowed, but I judged it still had potential. It cost several billion won, but after the money I had made from the investment, I could sign the contract with a smile.
“Hello. I’m here to look at a building to use as a company headquarters.”
“Ah! You’re the one who called this morning! This way, please!”
Next, I looked for an office building to support PlayForge’s growth. The current office was enough for seven people, but I had no intention of remaining a small studio forever. It made sense to move before land prices in Pangyo skyrocketed.
“How about this one? It fits your budget perfectly.”
“Hmm… The building is five stories, which is fine, and the size is good, but… isn’t this too far out? Since we’re an IT company, I was thinking of eastern Pangyo near Pangyo Techno Valley.”
“Oh, please don’t say that. That area is way out of your budget. You’re not trying to lease space in a huge building—you want to buy an entire headquarters, right? All the small buildings that used to be there have already been demolished. Where would you find what you’re looking for?”
“If I take out a small loan, I could probably manage up to five billion. Is that still impossible?”
“Now we’re talking! I thought you meant thirty billion with a loan! Haha. Even if it’s a bit away from Techno Valley, there’s a perfect listing that just came up. Follow me!”
The real estate agent led me toward Baekhyeon-dong.
“Here it is. Nice, right?”
“Oh…”
A six-story mini building.
The floor area was good, and the fact that it was new and clean appealed to me.
“How much is this one?”
“Exactly 5.2 billion! You know listings in Pangyo are drying up, right? It’s a little above the average price, but considering the Pangyo Station opening and future appreciation, it’s a steal. The owner didn’t even want to sell, but something urgent came up, so this is the price.”
“Hmm.”
I thought for a moment, then decided.
“I’ll take it.”
It was only one or two stops from the heart of Pangyo, Techno Valley, so the infrastructure was convenient. Unlike the central commercial district, it was closer to residential areas, so there were plenty of restaurants and cafés.
‘This area will rise a lot later too.’
It wouldn’t be bad when the time came to move to a larger place.
“S-so, we’re… moving?”
“Sounds good, right? We’re going to have more employees soon, and this place is too small. It’s a new building, so it’s clean, and since it’s ours alone, we won’t have to worry about disturbing anyone even if we work late.”
“E-employees…! F-finally, we’re hiring… W-when are we moving, Director? Next week? The week after?”
“I’m not planning to move that quickly.”
“Then the hiring…?”
“After we move.”
“N-no way…!”
Jaemin’s eyes grew moist.
We had signed the contract, but we weren’t moving right away.
Since it was a brand-new building, interior work was needed, and the timing wasn’t ideal either.
‘Pangyo Station won’t be finished for a while yet.’
It was mid-August now, so we would have to wait until October. Not moving in right after signing felt like a loss, but it was actually better.
‘We have a game to make.’
Development of the tentatively named Management Bureau, which had started in the first quarter, was nearly complete—about eighty-five percent. The game was almost finished. Moving now and causing chaos would only risk lowering the quality.
“Our goal is to finish Management Bureau by October.”
“Th-then we really need to hire more people…”
“No. We’ll finish it with the people we have now. We can do it, right?”
“……”
Jaemin’s already gloomy face grew even more depressed.
“Everyone, let’s work hard!”
I was going to make sure we finished by October no matter what.