February 18th, afternoon.
I had a direct meeting with the chairman of Yukos, one of Russia’s most prominent oil companies. Incidentally, it was also the number one private company in Russia at the moment. People might not realize it, but this group was actually bigger than Daehwa Group.
“...Greetings. Hm. I knew, but seeing you in person... you’re quite young.”
I gave a small smile and nodded.
“That’s right. But aren’t you similar? Once this matter is settled, you’ll soon be the richest man in Russia.”
Like Roman Abramovich, the oil tycoon famous for owning Chelsea Football Club, Mikhail Khodorkovsky, the chairman of Yukos, was also quite young. Calling someone in their late 30s “young” was debatable, but compared to oligarchs with billions of dollars, he definitely counted as young.
“Haha. True.”
Caught in deep trouble due to Russia’s moratorium, he gave an awkward smile. When he had been on the verge of bankruptcy, Lee Si-hyun had used my capital to help him, and apparently, they were on fairly friendly terms now.
“You’re here this time because of the oil storage tanks, aren’t you? Russian crude oil doesn’t often go to Cushing, so it’s not very tied to the futures market... Anyway, for an oil company, the futures market isn’t usually a major concern.”
“That’s correct. To be straightforward—would it be all right if I used your storage facilities?”
“The price?”
“I’ll lend you a contract for a tanker.”
“....”
“As you said, moving oil directly from Cushing to here, to Busan Port, won’t be easy. No matter how much money you have, you can’t just buy a tanker instantly. Even if you got oil for free at near-zero prices, in the end you’d still have to bring it from Cushing. That’s why I thought a partner would be necessary.”
He smiled faintly, eyes gleaming with confidence.
I curled my finger, looking at his face with interest. He seemed to have come here already knowing most of the picture.
‘Did Si-hyun betray me again...?’
Well, unlikely.
“How did you find out? This is pretty amusing.”
Betrayal or not, I decided I’d tease her about it later. Khodorkovsky liked straightforwardness, which made this kind of talk easy.
When I spoke honestly, he laughed and revealed his own thoughts.
“Isn’t it more fun this way? If it were me, I’d wait as long as possible and scoop up futures when they hit zero. Just opening a storage tank and collecting the usage fee? Yoo Ha-yeon, the youngest director of Alpha Fund, doing just that? That’s impossible. It’s only logical you’d use your specialty.”
Mm.
He’s right.
“Heh, you’re an interesting one. That’s right. I didn’t get an oil storage facility just to rent it out to others. That would be... far too boring, wouldn’t it?”
Trailing my fingers along the airy hem of my clothes, I turned to look out the window.
He added in agreement.
“I think of business as... a kind of game. In a capitalist society, this game always has winners and losers, and in the end, it benefits everyone.”
“I heard you used to be an ardent communist.”
“...People can change, you know.”
Also true.
Born under lethargic intellectual parents during Stalin’s rule, he had been a passionate communist—and then, when the Soviet Union collapsed, a greedy capitalist oligarch, later turning into a liberal human rights activist...
Even from what I knew of his history, his transformations were dizzying.
He still looked like the textbook capitalist tycoon, probably because he hadn’t yet suffered any major setbacks, but even so, he was a perfectly fine partner.
If anything, it was troublesome if someone pretended to be too good.
“So what you’re offering is... to take delivery of oil from Cushing in Oklahoma on my behalf, and I’ll in turn receive your oil via Russia?”
“That’s right. From my perspective, the sooner this terrible situation ends, the better. So it’s not a loss-making deal for me either.”
And, of course, there was more.
To take an empty tanker to Cushing, the tanker had to be empty first. Which meant... it would have to stop at Busan Port first to unload oil.
In other words, he could empty out the oil in his own storage facility a bit earlier through me.
A small difference in order, but in time, about two days. In this warped market, that alone could save millions of dollars.
I stroked my chin, mulling over the offer.
“As expected of someone at the top of the industry—you think fast and have a clear grasp of reality. Mm... Cushing’s storage tanks are indeed difficult for me to access directly. It’s where inland U.S. oil is received, after all.”
A lie.
As Alpha Fund’s director and the heir to a Korean chaebol, Yoo Ha-yeon couldn’t use Texas pipelines—but as Yoo Ha-yeon, developer of shale gas, it was another story.
Of course, Yukos had no idea I had ties to a Texas refinery. Naturally, they didn’t know I could arrange an alternative.
Still, revealing my identity in the U.S. was certainly a risk.
I decided it would be more convenient to establish the connection myself rather than leave it to Si-hyun.
I nodded.
“Alright. I’ll take the deal.”
“A wise choice.”
“Haha, of course. My choices have always been right.”
–Clasp.
His large, solid hand met my soft one.
A handshake as light as the weight of the contract itself.
***
February 19th.
Two days before expiration.
The world was going mad.
[No More Space to Store Oil... Pipelines, Tankers, Even Caves Filled to the Brim]
[“At this point, the only place left to store oil is a cooking pot,” says the CEO of storage firm Tank Tiger... Wall Street in panic over being forced to take delivery]
Even Sweden’s salt caves and trains running through Siberia were laden with oil.
Along the coasts, not holidaymakers but tankers rested their massive hulls, while cold Russian pipelines carried hot crude, warming the permafrost.
And I was calmly sipping coffee after locking the warehouse doors.
–Hoo.
The hot steam met the window, frosting the glass.
“When will production cuts begin?”
Si-hyun, visiting for the first time in a while, glanced at the bed as she asked. Perhaps she had fond memories of the Daehwa Securities building—outside of my home, we usually met here.
“A week after expiration. By then, oil demand will have shot up, and we can make plenty of money. Just remember—we sell our holdings at a premium by timing it slightly differently.”
“Understood. We should publicize this one heavily.”
“Exactly. Negative oil prices will be no small shock.”
On the chart, bright green letters displayed the current WTI futures price:
—‘$1’
That was the price per barrel. The drop to $1 had just happened, and it showed no sign of falling further.
It was too much of a shock. $1 was practically the symbol of a free contract. In most deals, if someone offered it for $1, it was close to giving it away.
That’s why the price had been stuck for hours.
—‘How could you sell at that price?!’
That’s what everyone was thinking.
“Fools. If they got out now, at least they’d have some money left.”
Hearing my mockery, Si-hyun spoke smoothly.
“Fools, huh. Do you think there’s anyone you’d call truly wise, miss?”
“Buffett?”
“Mm. Someone other than him.”
—Shrug.
Finishing my coffee, I shook my head.
“I’m not an arrogant person.”
“Really?”
“...Not that arrogant. There are plenty of wise people in the world. It’s just that there are environments that make even wise people act foolish.”
For example...
I gazed at Si-hyun’s face—and her ample chest.
Mm, stare at something like that long enough and you’d go stupid too. Lucky for me, I was a woman.
“...You probably count as wise yourself. You approached me early.”
Si-hyun gave a short laugh.
“Heh, I’ll take that as a compliment, my lady.”
—Flick.
I shook my head again and focused on the chart, recalling a small incident from yesterday.
—‘...Add more decimal places to the quote window? Do we really need negative signs? By when? Right now? Who’s asking? Oh, Yoo Ha-yeon. Yes, yes, understood.’
This was still a time when digital systems were run haphazardly. They hadn’t even prepared for the year 2000 until 1999, so of course they hadn’t imagined negative oil prices.
When I asked if they even knew what a “negative” number was, naturally, they hadn’t cared about something so trivial.
Then—
—Tick.
$0.98
The quote window changed. With no buyers at $1 despite countless offers, someone had finally worked up the nerve to lower the price slightly.
“Wow.”
An uncharacteristic short exclamation slipped out, and my eyes curved pleasantly at the sight.
‘Today... will it drop to $0.01? Or maybe $0.001?’
Normally, contracts were for 1,000 barrels... which meant that soon, $1 might mean $1 per contract, not per barrel—$1 for 1,000 barrels.
—Tap, tap, tap.
The cheerful sound of price changes rang out. Traders, feigning indifference yet glued to the chart, were in panic—frantically hammering the button, still clinging to a shred of hope.
To me, it sounded like applause... or outstretched hands of desire.
$0.80
In an instant, $0.90 broke—
—Click.
I picked up the internal phone to contact my secretary’s office.
“Patch through the monitor feed.”
—“Yes, understood.”
Beside me, Si-hyun tilted her head.
“Monitor? What feed?”
Several large monitors were stacked like a fortress on my desk. Aside from the one showing the chart, the rest were black.
I smiled brightly and ran my fingers along the back of her neck.
“Here, I’ll show you... something fun I installed.”
“What... ah, shit, what the hell is this?”
Si-hyun scowled, swearing.
—“Sell it now!”
—“Uh, at what price... It’s dropped further! Broke $0.80!”
—“Just sell!!”
Beep.
On screen, countless people bustled frantically, shouting over one another. Like shards of stained glass, countless oil traders and industry players were frozen mid-scream in this unprecedented crisis.
To my perfect memory, the image would remain a vivid afterimage, making it all the more delightful.
“Don’t worry. Only in places where I can’t be caught. Some of it’s even legal wiretapping...”
Ah, I couldn’t hold it in.
—Thud.
$0.73
$0.70
$0.60
$0.50
Eyes wide, I fixed my gaze on the screen, mind fully immersed while my body sat far back.
That way, I could see it better.
.
.
.
$0.30
$0.20
$0.17
$0.12
$0.09
A shiver of exhilaration traced my spine. Unbothered by the gaze beside me, I threw my arms wide and let out a cheer.
I’d dressed it up with airs, but perhaps some unruly nature still lingered inside me.
.
.
.
$0.01
$0.001
$0.0001
The price fell to surreal depths. Movements slowed into resignation. Silence.
I committed every detail to memory. A terrible hobby, finding pleasure in others’ downfall—but right now, guilt didn’t matter.
I was in an ecstasy. I was still right there, at the scene—
As the game’s sole administrator.
.
.
.
0.
It dropped.