The Fall of Icarus
Ontel had suddenly found itself at the center of the world's attention, all because of the news that it was pushing forward with optical semiconductor development.
Since American stocks have no daily price ceiling, the company posted a staggering 62% gain in a single day — a rise so extraordinary that it drew eyes not only across the United States but around the entire globe.
Day after day, Ontel's every move was being dissected across the internet, television, and newspapers. And amid all this intense scrutiny, details about the optical semiconductor began to surface — and with them, the paper I had quietly buried online was suddenly receiving more ferocious attention than it had ever known.
My paper was being picked apart by the formidable investigative powers of the stock gallery forums. Of course, almost no one could actually understand its contents — but that didn't matter to them in the slightest.
Having sensed that Ontel was onto something, these people were throwing themselves at the stock like moths to a flame, wagering everything they had. And Ontel's share price, climbing on the ants' pocket change as kindling, kept rising day after day until it finally broke through $40.
Save for the short sellers and the faint of heart who hadn't dared to climb aboard, the market was a chorus of rejoicing ants, everyone basking in happiness. But I knew exactly what future awaited them, so I placed my hands on the keyboard and left a single post.
A word of advice: don't trade on borrowed money. Don't swing between euphoria and despair over every daily tick. Take the long view, and hold.
Grandpa. What did you write there?
"Hm? Oh, it's nothing. Just some standard advice — don't trade on debt, don't ride the emotional rollercoaster of daily price swings, hold for the long term. That sort of thing."
Heh, why? They're total strangers to you.
"Well, they're pitiful, aren't they? They're investing with a 'if the price crashes, I might as well die' mentality. I have to save at least one of them."
Hmm... I don't think a single soul will listen.
"Can't be helped. Every investment is the investor's own responsibility."
Having left behind that painfully obvious advice — the kind everyone knows and no one follows — I closed my laptop and asked Alex.
"So, when do we start moving?"
Not yet. We respond once the big players start making their moves.
"Hedge funds really are a laugh, though. They don't even bother verifying anything — they just declare it a fraud and start moving."
Ontel was my business partner now, a company stepping in step with my grand march to prevent the end of the world. Thanks to Alex's own inspection of them — read: a thorough background check — I was able to confirm the existence of a massive coalition of players.
A full twenty-one hedge funds and private equity firms are involved, plus four brokerages and banks. We can't move carelessly. They'll probably strike at the optimal moment — when Ontel's price looks like it's peaked — at a timing no one can react to.
A coalition of Wall Street forces was steadily stacking up a massive short position against Ontel's relentlessly climbing stock. I could see in granular detail how they were preparing to strip-mine the ants' savings, and their sheer ruthlessness left me clicking my tongue.
"Seriously, when on earth did they even photograph our research building?"
What do you expect? There isn't a single guard or employee on site. Any random kid walking down the street could walk right through the front door.
"Tch... I did tell you to keep it cheap, but this is a bit much."
The building was far too decrepit to call a research institute. It was so neglected I suspected a safety inspection would return a grade of D, so I suppose it was easy for the public to misread the situation.
Anyway... once they start churning out short reports like bamboo shoots after the rain, Ontel's stock will begin to collapse before anyone can lift a finger. And if that happens, well — the picture won't be pretty.
Ontel's finances were already far from healthy. If the coalition's operation succeeded as planned, large-scale capital infusions — fresh investment, additional loans, and the like — would become nearly impossible. And if that happened, my plans for developing and mass-producing the optical semiconductor would likely fall apart before they'd even properly begun.
Which meant that, whether I liked it or not, I had no choice but to intervene in Ontel's current predicament.
And honestly, Grandpa, it's in your interest to step up here. If you just sit back and do nothing, odds are you'll get branded a con artist, dragged around from place to place, and put through investigation after investigation. What a hassle that'd be.
I was set to receive a full hundred million dollars in cash from Ontel. If the public came to believe the optical semiconductor was, as the bears claimed, a complete mirage, I would inevitably find myself cast as a principal or accomplice in embezzlement and breach of trust. Alex grinned as he said it.
"What a pain this has become..."
If you're going to turn the whole world upside down, you have to put up with at least this much hassle.
The original plan had been to hand over the entirety of the research — development and implementation alike — to Ontel, with me occasionally dropping in to offer consultation and advice. But knowing the situation left no room for such leisure, I sighed and picked up the phone.
"Yes. Mr. CEO."
Kim Cheol-min, the lawyer Ontel had assigned to me. The phone barely rang twice before he picked up, and I got straight to the point.
"About the technology transfer agreement we just signed... would it be possible to add a few clauses?"
"I'm... sorry? You want to amend the contract?"
"Yes."
Kim Cheol-min said nothing, clearly thrown by the sudden request. But he soon seemed to collect his thoughts, and asked again in a calm tone.
"Might I ask what you'd like to add?"
"Oh, it's nothing all that important... it's just that it seems some people looking to stick it to Ontel are working some serious moves behind the scenes."
When I briefly explained that a coalition of massive capital was scheming to strip Ontel and countless retail investors down to their underwear, he lost every trace of his earlier composure and began to stammer.
"Excuse me...? What do you mean by... no, wait — where did you even get information like..."
"There've been a lot of shady peddlers hanging around the company lately. I got curious, did a little digging, and stumbled onto it by chance. Anyway... if Ontel's stock price gets skewered, the optical semiconductor — everything — goes down the drain, doesn't it?"
The company's earnings were already poor. With a CEO, senior executives, and board members all publicly vowing to pour enormous money and time into a technology that was unproven — no, practically certified as a fraud — it was obvious that furious shareholders would flush every last one of them out.
So I made them a new offer.
"Let me participate in the development directly. I'll need Ontel's research facilities and equipment, plus unlimited personnel and funding support."
"...? You want to participate in development yourself?"
"I'm not saying I'd be involved all the way through mass production. Just far enough to produce a single working prototype."
If I'd offered to oversee the entire path to mass production, Ontel would have welcomed me with both hands raised — but that would drain far too much of my time and energy. So I intended to help only as far as producing one prototype to show the world.
"Even that much would be an enormous help to Ontel, you know? Since we'd be verifying that it can actually be built before researching it, you'd save a revolutionary amount of time, and you'd need fewer researchers and less development capital too."
Working out every step of a solution from scratch, knowing nothing, versus solving a problem when you already hold the answer and the full solution — the difference in difficulty was heaven and earth. Which meant my invoice to Ontel was bound to look a little different.
"Let's raise the royalty from 15% to 25%."
"I'm... sorry? Twenty-five percent?"
Kim Cheol-min sounded even more stunned by this demand. Deciding, apparently, that no amount of reconsideration would make this acceptable, he didn't even bother escalating it up the chain — he resolved to reject my outrageous proposal on his own authority, his voice turning a touch firm.
"Mr. CEO, with all due respect, I don't think that will be possible. Twenty-five percent is far too excessive..."
"In exchange, we produce a prototype we can show the public within three months."
"...Three months?"
My absurd promise to bring an optical semiconductor into reality in a mere three months seemed to have knocked every prepared word out of him; Kim Cheol-min fell silent. But without giving him so much as a chance to respond, I went on with an easy smile.
"Pass my conditions up the chain, and tell them to think it over carefully before deciding. Well... I do believe, without a shred of doubt, that Ontel is more than capable of developing an optical semiconductor on its own..."
"It's just that Ontel is a little short on time. No — very, very short."
With that, I hung up. The call from Kim Cheol-min did not come right away.
Through Alex, I learned that inside Ontel's boardroom, my outrageous demands had split the directors into warring camps of supporters and opponents, locked in fierce debate and unable to reach a decision. I waited leisurely for their call for a full week.
And then, at last...
The moment arrived.
Countless short reports — each bearing the names and missions of analysts from the most prestigious, influential hedge funds, private equity firms, and banks that everyone had heard of — came pouring down like bamboo shoots after a rain, and with them came a colossal red candle plunging straight down in a single instant.
Icarus of the stock market, who had soared without a thought for the heavens...
The day of Ontel's fall had come.