The Stock Investment Research Club
Annex Building, 3rd Floor of Sunjin High School.
Though it was connected to the main building by a covered walkway, few students ever set foot here. The closer you got to the end of the corridor, the thicker the silence became.
"Here it is."
Where Min-jae stopped was the classroom at the very end of the hallway. On the door hung a sheet of paper with Stock Investment Research Club scrawled on it in hasty marker.
Stock Investment Research Club
Not a single proper club sign to its name. Pathetic.
Works for me.
Unremarkable meant unnoticed. It was the perfect place to hide away and sharpen my blade.
The old sliding door screeched as Min-jae pulled it open.
"Hey guys, I'm back."
The classroom was smaller than I'd expected. A central table cobbled together from four or five desks, and two computers with chunky CRT monitors tucked in the corner.
Three people sat inside.
"Oh, Min-jae's here."
"You're late today. The water for your cup ramen's gone cold, man."
The members, sprawled in various states of comfort, turned their heads. But the moment their eyes landed on me, standing behind Min-jae—
Click.
Every motion in the room froze as if someone had hit the pause button. The chopsticks reaching for a cup of ramen, the hand turning a newspaper page—everything hung suspended in midair.
"...Kang Seon-woo?"
Someone mumbled my name in a daze.
An understandable reaction. This school had been founded by my grandfather. The chairwoman of the foundation was my aunt, and even the principal got flustered whenever I was around. For the family's resident problem child to appear in this dust-trap of an annex clubroom—it had to be more shocking than seeing a ghost.
"Uh, sorry for startling everyone?"
Min-jae stepped forward, breaking the awkward silence.
"Seon-woo wants to join our club, so I brought him along. You all know him, right? Kang Seon-woo from our class."
The members looked like they couldn't believe it. I didn't bother making excuses and simply gave a light nod.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Kang Seon-woo, second year. I look forward to working with you all."
At my greeting, they scrambled awkwardly to their feet. Their discomfort was plain—unsure whether to return the bow or ignore it entirely.
Quick to read the room, Min-jae began pointing the members out one by one.
"The kid holding the cup ramen is Park Dong-hoon, first year. He's good with computers."
"Oh, uh, hello, sunbae-nim..."
"Hey."
The chubby-cheeked first-year hastily set down his chopsticks and bowed.
"And the one with the glasses over there is Jung Jin-su, second year."
"Nice to meet you."
The second-year shuffled his feet and avoided my eyes.
Every one of them seemed harmless. Charitably, you'd call them innocent; less charitably, they looked like kids who'd never found a club and were here to kill time.
But the person I was looking for wasn't among them.
"And..."
Min-jae's gaze turned toward the window.
Mine followed naturally.
"The person by the window is Han Jae-yi, third year. She's the club president."
Han Jae-yi.
The moment I heard the name, a faint smile crept across my lips.
There you are. Exactly where I knew you'd be.
In the future, Han Jae-yi would run the largest private equity fund in Yeouido. People said she was a woman forged of sheer iron will, determined to shatter every handicap she'd been born with—but the girl before me looked nothing like those descriptions.
Either way, with Han Jae-yi at the helm, the graduates of the Sunjin High Stock Investment Research Club would, thirty years from now, carve out their own success stories in Yeouido. The club's name would live on the whole while.
And if I secured that connection ahead of time?
"Kang Seon-woo?"
Han Jae-yi smiled at me and extended her hand.
"I'm Han Jae-yi, the club president. Third year."
"A pleasure, sunbae-nim."
"Just call me noona."
She accepted the introduction without a flicker of surprise. If anything, her composure was so complete that it *I* was the one thrown off balance.
"So you want to join, like Min-jae said? You've sorted things out with any other clubs, I assume? As you know, we could run into problems with them otherwise."
"Ah, I've never actually been in a club."
"What? Is that even allowed?"
When Han Jae-yi asked in surprise, the others just looked at me with expressions that said, He's Kang Seon-woo—of course it is.
"Fair warning, though—there's not much to see here. Our funding got cut ages ago, and the computers are antiques. We couldn't dream of actual investing."
She glanced around the room and gave a wry smile. Rather than being ashamed of her own shabby circumstances, she spoke like someone bracing a new recruit for disappointment in advance—considerate to the last.
"I won't stop you if you're set on it, but... are you really sure?"
I stared at her for a moment.
Unexpected. So different from the Han Jae-yi of the future, who'd stop at nothing on the road to success.
But that sense of responsibility. That grit, determined to protect a club even as it collapsed around her.
This, on the other hand... isn't bad at all.
What if someone with that kind of dedication became one of my people? Nothing could be more reassuring.
"Yes, I'm sure."
I answered with a voice full of conviction.
"Actually, this is exactly the kind of place I've been looking for."
After the brief introductions, we left the clubroom and headed back toward the classroom. Min-jae chattered at my side the whole way, clearly still buzzing with excitement.
"Man, you picked perfectly. Everyone's been worried the club might get shut down."
"Shut down?"
"Yeah. School rules require a minimum of five members. Fewer than five means no funding—and pretty soon, no clubroom either."
Min-jae let out a sigh of relief and went on.
"But with you joining, we're exactly five. Seriously, you're our savior."
I smirked and kept walking.
"Speaking of which, other than the club president, none of them seemed remotely interested in stocks."
"Ah... yeah, about that."
Min-jae scratched the back of his head, embarrassed.
"The truth is, nobody signs up, so Jae-yi noona just takes whoever walks in. Those first- and second-years you saw? Yeah, they really don't care about stocks. They're just killing time."
"What about you, then?"
"Me?"
"Yeah. Did you join because you're interested, or did someone drag you in?"
At my question, Min-jae's eyes lit up and he answered without hesitation.
"Me? I'm very interested. It's fascinating."
The unexpected word pulled an involuntary laugh out of me.
"Fascinating?"
"What, why are you laughing?"
"No, it's just—saying the stock market is *fun* is what's funny."
The stock market is a battlefield. A scene of utter chaos where some weep tears of blood while others scream in ecstasy. And he calls it *fascinating*.
But Min-jae was dead serious.
"Isn't it, though? The IT bubble gets built up and bursts, companies rise and fall—all of it starts in the stock market. Isn't it amazing that the currents changing the world show up as numbers right in front of you?"
I studied the boy's profile in silence.
So he's not just a model student. He approaches it academically.
Pure curiosity, not greed. Had our class president always had this side to him? What did he end up doing in my previous life?
Just then, as if something had occurred to him, Min-jae turned to me.
"Wait, but why did *you* join our club? You always said club activities were a hassle."
His eyes were full of bewilderment.
Fair enough. An outsider every student in school knew about—a third-generation chaebol heir, no less—had walked into a club on the verge of extinction of his own free will. Anyone would be curious.
I answered with a light shrug.
"It wasn't the hassle. Wherever I went, people just got uncomfortable around me. I figured it was better not to go anywhere at all."
"And now you've changed your mind? Why?"
"Hmm. I have a feeling this club is going to become a legend in about thirty years."
"...A legend?"
Min-jae echoed it back like I'd said something absurd, but I just smiled and walked ahead instead of answering.
That's right, kid.
Right now, they were a bunch of wallflowers buried in a dusty back room.
But the day will come when the alumni of the Sunjin High Stock Investment Club own Yeouido.
The next morning.
Only the clink of chopsticks drifted over the breakfast table. It was a morning spread no different from any other, but the empty seat where Father used to sit loomed as large as ever.
Across from me, my little sister Seon-ah picked at her food, counting grains of rice.
"Kids."
It was Mother who broke the heavy silence. Seon-ah's eyes and mine turned to her at the same time.
Setting down her spoon, she spoke in a calm, level voice.
"Starting today, I'm going to go to the office."
Seon-ah's eyes went wide.
"The office? You mean Dad's company?"
"That's right. It's the place your father devoted his whole life to. I can't just leave it be."
"B-but Mom, you've... you've never worked before."
Seon-ah's voice trembled faintly. Losing Father was still so fresh—the thought of Mother stepping onto a hard road of her own clearly frightened her.
A bitter look crossed Mother's face for a moment. Then, as if to soothe her daughter, she spoke gently.
"Your uncle made that same suggestion to me... but I see things a little differently. This is a company your father protected with everything he had. I can't hand it over to someone else's hands."
The moment I heard that, I scoffed inwardly.
So that's what Kang Tae-yong proposed. Of course.
A professional management structure. Rational-sounding on the surface, but underneath it was the same transparent con—plant his own people and puppet the company from the shadows. If Mother had shown even a hint of vulnerability, he'd have snapped that bait right up.
But Mother made the same choice as in my past life.
A relief. History hadn't wavered. She was becoming the iron lady once more, ready to walk a road strewn with thorns.
I set down my water glass quietly and spoke up.
"It's the right call."
Mother's and Seon-ah's gazes snapped to me.
"You'll do well, Mother. Father would have wanted it that way, too."
"...Seon-woo."
"Besides, the moment you borrow someone else's hands, what's yours becomes theirs. It should be you who takes charge, Mother."
My support eased the tension in her face considerably.
"Thank you. Hearing my son say that gives me strength."
Mother picked up her spoon again. The mood at the table had softened, just a little.
"Mother."
"Hmm? What is it?"
"Do I, by any chance, have a stock account under my name?"
At my question, Mother's hand froze mid-soup. She looked at me, puzzled.
"A stock account? Probably. Some were sorted out after your father passed, because of the inheritance... and your grandfather left some shares in trust for you and Seon-ah."
Then her eyes filled with concern.
"But why bring that up all of a sudden? Do you need money?"
"Oh, no, nothing like that. I'm not going to touch the stocks inside. I just need the account itself."
"The account?"
"Yes. The thing is, I joined a club at school."
I added it with a deliberately sheepish expression.
"The Stock Investment Research Club."
Mother's eyes went round. Beside her, Seon-ah stared at me too, her face reading, Oppa? Him?
And no wonder—I'd spent the last two years drifting through school like a ghost.
"They said it's good to have an account in your own name. I won't touch any of the holdings—I'd just like to use the account itself. Or you could open a new one for me, whatever's easier."
The moment I finished, Mother's face lit up.
It had nothing to do with stocks or money. Her son had joined a club on his own initiative—was about to do something with other kids, together. That alone was what delighted her.
"Goodness, our Seon-woo, joining a club of all things?"
"Yes, a friend asked me to do it with him."
"Well, well. That's wonderful. I'd actually been worrying about whether I should transfer you to another school."
Some of our cousins had enjoyed flaunting their status at school. I wasn't one of them. The looks people gave me at that age weighed on me—and they hurt, too.
My mental fortitude really was garbage back then, wasn't it. Worrying my parents like that.
Mother nodded, a smile of relief spreading across her face.
"Of course you can use it. It's yours—what's there to ask permission for? Though wouldn't a fresh account be simpler?"
"Yes, I'd prefer that too."
"Then I'll write up the consent form and have Secretary Kim handle it."
"Thank you, Mother."
I gave a short answer and picked up my spoon again. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep my expression in check.
Done.
I could have simply asked for an account and she'd have handed one over, but this way I'd spared my mother one more worry while she drowned in company affairs. And now I could make money, too.
Time to get down to business.
The truth was, the real reason I'd chosen the stock research club—important as the favors to Han Jae-yi and Kim Seok-jun were—was to build an environment where I could actually trade stocks. Knowing the future meant exploiting it, and exploiting it meant filling my own war chest.
If I'd just announced I wanted to trade stocks out of nowhere, it would've raised eyebrows.
Joining the club solved everything. All that remained was to feast on the information to come.
Right then—down the hatch, and off to school.
I scooped rice into my soup and started eating. My stomach needed to be as full as my resolve, after all—there was hard work ahead.