Stock investment is good. Leverage is better.
That was the undeniable truth now seared into the minds of people everywhere.
One didn’t even need to hear the bleating chorus of sheep to realize it. Unlike Napoleon the pig from Animal Farm, Yoo Ha-yeon of Alpha Fund was a truly great investor.
Oh, you’re asking if everyone who invested during the dotcom bubble ended up ruined? Anyone who asked that was treated like Snowball—a Trotskyist, basically.
To put it simply: you’d get called a commie. It was a strangely abbreviated metaphor, but considering how often George Orwell was introduced as an anti-communist, maybe it wasn’t so strange after all.
"—Yes, that’s right. You’re quite sharp. Isn’t the shale gas revolution looking very promising these days? I just so happen to have ties to that company in Texas that developed hydraulic fracturing... Oh, you’re asking how I’m connected to them? Well, haha, good question.”
– Click.
"You’re interested in investing more? Hm, let’s see... Are you referring to the new CDO portfolio Alpha Fund just created? You’ve got a good eye. Honestly, this is something I’m only telling you... That’s right. You can think of it as the flagship portfolio we’re unveiling to commemorate the founding of our investment bank. Of course, if another dotcom-style bubble hits, there’s a risk the whole basket could shatter... I’ll contact you separately. I’ve got a plan.”
– Click.
"You’re asking if we’re intervening directly in the oil futures market? Hmm, that’s not really my department... As you know, I prefer options over futures, and the underlying asset is in a completely different sector—it’s not something I’d personally meddle in. Oh, obviously I still know all the oil-related stocks. For the details, talk to Charles—he works under me.”
.
.
.
– Click.
"Whew, what a day.”
I glanced at the clock. I'd started work at six in the morning, and even with the clock striking noon, there was no sign of wrapping up.
“You should take a break. You haven’t been back from Korea for long, you know?”
Charles handed me a cup of coffee, his eyes tinged with concern.
“Pfft, says the guy who barely sleeps these days.”
“Well... you’re not wrong.”
Charles let out a dry chuckle, his deepening dark circles giving him an air of decadent exhaustion.
Alpha Fund had officially slapped on the label of “earned several billion dollars,” so of course there were interviews. And naturally, I became the walking billboard, soaking up all the spotlight—on his behalf too.
Telling the world to invest in me. Right now.
“Thanks to that, we’ve got more investment capital than we know what to do with.”
I shrugged as I lovingly caressed the stack of contracts in front of me. Ah, to think that a few well-placed words could produce such monumental results.
Anyone reading the contract clauses would’ve thought they were investing in a savior, a blood relative, even their own child—it was that generous.
Confidentiality agreements were a given, and then there was the outrageous 3-and-35 fee structure—blowing past the standard 2-and-20 most hedge fund managers got.
On top of that, once the money was in, not even the owner knew where it was going. Honestly, it was the perfect contract for embezzlement.
Not that they’d ever suspect me.
Even though I’d made over a hundred billion dollars, no one questioned whether Alpha Fund might’ve underreported our earnings. Of course they didn’t. Who would even dare to imagine such a thing?
– Tap, tap.
“You’ve really improved at making coffee.”
“Gee, I wonder why. Hah. I used to plan on retiring once I made enough money...”
Charles looked wistfully into the past.
“So, do you hate it? Working beside such a beautiful woman isn’t exactly a common opportunity.”
“Not beside. Under.”
“Oho, that °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° your thing? Honestly, I do enjoy being on top. Two legs are better than four, huh.”
Whether it’s a pig walking on two legs or a human crawling on all fours, both are cases of voluntary devolution. In that sense, the Russian oligarch, Lee Si-hyun’s preference for four legs over two might just be a form of avant-garde art.
Mr. George Orwell, are you watching? 1984 passed safely, and at last, communism has fully melted into capitalist society, becoming a form of revisionist capitalism (with just a hint of red flavor)...
Ah, and for the record—Lee Si-hyun simply likes animals. As the one who often personally administers the punishment for betrayal, she works hard not to fall into human distrust. Her affection for animals is just part of that strategy.
“...I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Never mind. I’m in the wrong. Sure.”
“Mmh, whatever it is, I can’t be the one at fault, so you must be right. Oh, and the coffee is good, but I’ll stop here. You can drink the rest. Or throw it out. Up to you.”
“....”
I mean, I’ve given him this much money. You’d think he’d be satisfied. But no, Charles always has one more thing to ask for.
“What, you still want to go back to the university lab?”
“...I have a PhD.”
“I meant as a professor. With a nameplate and everything.”
“Oh, that. Of course I still want that...”
Charles had taken a corporate job just to survive, thanks to the sad truth that math doesn’t pay. And now he was completely roped in. But even now, he still held a deep, unshakable affection for mathematics.
Even with all his work, he’d occasionally have math journals delivered just so he could read the latest papers.
A total weirdo, but not a hard one to understand. After all, I’ve been called a newspaper addict more than once myself.
“You know you’re not leaving the organization, right? When you’re in your fifties, I’ll get you a tenured professorship in math or economics. Just hold out until then. I’ll give you plenty of academic leave—you can read your papers on vacation.”
“...Did I ever say I read papers to you?”
“Ahaha~ that’s a secret.”
And how did I know that? A little indirect answer should do: all documents employees send or receive go through a round of internal screening before they leave the system.
***
3:00 p.m.
I’d taken a short nap over lunch. When I woke up, the first thing I saw was Charles Gray sighing deeply.
“...So, you want to get involved in the oil futures market?”
Looks like he read it thoroughly.
That cabinet was just crammed with hastily dumped materials from the plane, but I guess he found and read them himself. This is why working with smart people is such a relief.
“Yeah. You’ve already seen almost all of our classified material, haven’t you? I gave you clearance up to the second tier, and a few level-one files too... You know it’s a real possibility, right?”
“...There’s more classified stuff I don’t know? Besides dotcom bubble manipulation, shorting the pound, the Barings collapse, and causing Black Monday? What else is there?”
You’re shocked at the weirdest stuff. You seriously thought that was everything?
“If you’re curious, work harder. Technically you’re not supposed to know, but since all the secrets came from my brain, I can just tell you if I want.”
“Ugh, forget it. I have no idea what’s in that head of yours. I’ll just stick to my job.”
Charles muttered and went back to scribbling equations before turning away.
.
.
.
How long had it been? Charles eventually glanced at me and hesitated before speaking.
“Uh...”
“What? Is it too much?”
“It might be tough.”
I see.
Honestly, I’ve never liked math, so I’m not great at this kind of thing. No, actually, I think liking math is the weird part.
Anyway, while I could grasp things intuitively, I still needed expert help to solidify everything clearly.
I crossed my arms and beckoned with my index finger.
“How much bigger does the market need to get?”
“Thirty percent—no, fifty percent bigger.”
“Got it.”
“...That’s it?”
“I’m not someone who denies numbers or statistics.”
After all, solutions come from clearly recognizing the problem. I know I’m not the most agreeable person by nature, so I surround myself with good people. And because I know that playing games with people’s emotions can go very, very wrong, I hire lots of bodyguards.
“So, we just make the market grow more. Sigh... Guess I’m not going home again today. Still, owning that media company will come in handy.”
“You bought a media company? Since when? Wait, if you publish articles that obviously, the Fed’s gonna call.”
“Oh, I bought it under a different hedge fund’s name, so it’s fine. It was payment for sweeping that little OTC derivatives disaster under the rug a while ago. There’s no digital trail, so unless they talk first, no one’s gonna find out.”
It was a deal made during the chaos of the financial crisis. Back then, phones rang hundreds of times a day, and transactions—especially one-off OTC trades that were already disasters from the start—were nearly impossible to track.
Basically, unless the other side talks first, no matter how much the press acts as Alpha Fund’s mouthpiece, they’ll never know. Hell, even the outlets working as my mouthpiece probably don’t know.
And obviously, if I’ve bugged Charles, I’m not going to leave some total stranger unwatched.
“...You know, the more I think about it, the scarier this gets.”
Smile.
“It’s fine. I’m a very kind person.”