The Hyenas Circle
Hedge funds and traders, as a rule, never expose their positions.
Should a position ever see the light of day, rival speculators—hyenas and piranhas by the dozens—would strip them to the very soul. Such was daily life in the financial world, and so these players guarded the secrecy of their holdings with almost paranoid rigor.
But this time was a little different.
"The company known as Limitless, with which Ontel claims to have signed a technology transfer agreement, is a research lab that has existed for less than a single month. Its CEO is a man in his twenties with no verifiable research history or credentials of any kind."
"After an in-depth review of Ontel's current state, we could find no clear basis or evidence that the company possesses the ability or capacity to develop optical semiconductor technology. What we did find was a financial situation so dire that one worries for the company's very future."
"No serious research into the technology has even been conducted, and development will require a minimum of thirty additional years. Hasn't Jenkinson Huang, CEO of Mbidia, himself stated that it is impossible with today's technology? Ontel's plan to launch within three years is absurd and wildly exaggerated."
This was an alliance of whales so vast that no ordinary pack of hyenas would have dared dream of opposing it. When they all raised their voices in unison, publishing massive short-selling reports to expose Ontel's "fraud," a colossal shockwave swept through the market almost immediately.
This was no crude short attack. The reports were built on rigorous, logical analysis—complete with on-site investigations conducted firsthand—and the fear they carried swallowed the market whole in an instant. And Ontel's stock price, as if it had never known better days, began to plummet.
Firewood was being heaped onto the flames of Ontel's falling stock from every direction. And thanks to all of it, I was able to cross over to the United States being treated, quite literally, like royalty by Ontel.
The core research division responsible for Ontel's technology development. The Campus.
I had arrived here under the temporary title of Chief Development Coordinator, and I spent my days darting from lab to lab, rattling the researchers at every turn.
"Hmm... why is the board in this state? Did you not adjust the INP settings?"
"Run the chamber preheat for about thirty minutes, and don't forget the HMDS coating before cooling."
"Let's see the real-time reflectivity monitoring. Hmm... the lattice alignment is off."
The Campus was packed with world-renowned scholars and brilliant minds. When a young Easterner none of them had ever heard of—in academia or industry—came strolling in and started issuing orders left and right, they had initially radiated open displeasure. Now, however, they were following my instructions with almost docile obedience.
"No, I'm telling you, it's impossible to etch the circuit that way in a photolithography process?"
"Hmm... I see. Then I suppose I'll modify the equipment?"
"I'm sorry—what?"
"It's impossible with the current technology. Then I'll just build something rough for now."
"???"
"There's no program... well, then we make one, don't we? I'll send it over by tomorrow."
"?"
If it doesn't exist, build it. Develop it. Modify it until the impossible becomes possible. The research staff had now witnessed the literal creation of something from nothing more times than they could count. Overwhelming everyone purely through skill and capability, I was driving the optical semiconductor prototype toward completion at full speed.
"At this point, have we covered the minimum level of technology we need?"
Roughly, yes. It's far too crude for mass production, but if you teach them this much, then given enough time, they should be able to upgrade the equipment on their own and build a system capable of manufacturing at scale.
I had already taught them a solid foundation of the basic knowledge required to fabricate optical semiconductors. Of course, with everything currently focused on developing the prototype, I was paying no heed whatsoever to economics or efficiency—the unit cost was astronomically high—but that was not the pressing problem right now. The pressing problem was...
"Mr. Kang."
"Ah, there you are."
Kevin, Ontel's Chief Technology Officer. Dressed in his usual suit, he collapsed onto the sofa in my office with an utterly exhausted face, roughly loosening his tie. I asked him,
"So how did the SEC's closed-door hearing go?"
"About as expected."
The U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission had opened an investigation into allegations of stock manipulation at Ontel. Having just returned from being summoned before them, Kevin shook his head with his brow deeply furrowed.
"They view the technology transfer agreement itself as an absurd, hollow transaction. They've concluded that the board approved this deal as nothing more than a trick to solve Ontel's funding problems by propping up the stock price."
"So they just swallowed Wall Street's narrative whole."
"Well... given that you have not a single credential to your name, it's honestly not a strange conclusion to reach. No—if anything, you'd have to call it a sensible, rational judgment."
"Even so, isn't that going too far? Aren't they being far too one-sided, entertaining only those arguments?"
"Well... the other side has plenty of heavy hitters with enough influence over the SEC commissioners, so I'm sure that played its part."
"But frankly, it didn't help that we have nothing to put forward as things stand. Your entire research history amounts to that one paper you posted online, doesn't it? And even that is being assessed by numerous scholars as plausible-sounding but divorced from reality. It's mired in controversy, which makes it difficult to use as grounds for persuading the commissioners."
My résumé had nothing to offer anyone. Because of that, not a single soul believed that optical semiconductor development was even possible. Especially not from a graduate student who had failed to earn even a master's degree, never written a single proper paper, and dropped out of his program altogether.
"And... did something happen at your graduate school? The Korean academic community issued a negative statement regarding you, and a few of the SEC commissioners are treating you as an outright fraudster because of it."
"Ah, that?"
I snorted and shrugged.
Professor Kim Hwan-soo—my former advisor—was throwing his weight around, taking the lead in drowning me. I had no idea why he was throwing himself into slandering me over this particular issue with such passion, but thanks to him, back in Korea it was already all but settled fact that I was a fraudster of historic proportions.
Professor Kim Hwan-soo had sunk his teeth into this whole affair, even appearing on interviews with the major terrestrial networks, cheerfully showering me with slander while smiling for the cameras. And naturally, in the aftermath, articles dredging up every scrap of my past lined up one after another, and public opinion of me was hardly kind.
People I couldn't even identify claimed to have attended school with me, fabricating stories that never happened to paint me as a con artist. The place was crawling with opportunists riding the wave to pile abuse on me. And yet, not one person in this room—neither Kevin nor anyone on the Campus—looked at me as a fraudster.
Because, already...
every last one of them was in the same boat with me, past the point of no return.
"So how much time did they give you?"
"Two months. I suspect that's the absolute limit."
"Hmm... that is a bit tight."
What Kevin had requested when he appeared before the Securities and Exchange Commission was, quite simply, time.
To prove that the agreement Ontel had signed was not some ulterior scheme—that it was, in truth, a technology transfer deal with a company genuinely holding optical semiconductor technology, and a core strategic vision for the company's future in developing and mass-producing the next generation of semiconductors—he had bought me two months.
"Any problems with development?"
"None. The equipment modifications and program development needed for fabrication are proceeding steadily."
"You understand, of course, that if the development fails..."
"I know. Ontel's executives get prosecuted for stock manipulation and breach of trust, and I get branded a fraudster of the century, indicted, and thrown in a cell. The company itself will most likely go under."
At my words, Kevin fell silent, his expression hard.
"But... those are all things that only happen if I fail to develop the optical semiconductor, aren't they? If I succeed, every last one of those stories becomes meaningless."
If I produced the optical semiconductor, the contract between Ontel and me would be not merely legitimate but enormously profitable for Ontel. They would hold an absolute monopoly on the technology destined to lead and dominate the future of the entire semiconductor industry.
And so...
I smiled and told him,
"So buy back and burn your own shares, have the executives dig into their own pockets and buy stock—do whatever it takes to defend the price, and just hold out for exactly two more months."
"Because in two months... the moment of counterattack will arrive—the one that repays every humiliation Ontel has suffered, all at once."