The second week of December arrived, and for NeoPharm , i had the feeling that it was the time. The online noise, carefully orchestrated for over a month and a half, wasn't just buzz anymore; it was like a strong storm. Reporter Park ? He might as well have been writing love poems to the stock ticker , but he was useful , these kind of naive people they are what is wrong with this world.
My cracked eBEST terminal, displayed the number with: ₩1,250,000. Profit: ₩850,000. my face glowed , was it the screen or was it my face ? Enough. More than enough for now , i thought.
Time to vanish. Over two super tense days, I slowly sold off my shares into the wild market. A little here, a little there — quietly, carefully. The last click of the mouse echoed through the silence of the PC Bang booth. A cold wave of relief hit me, but right after came something sharp and bitter. Was this what winning felt like? It tasted more like ash and cheap instant noodles.
Saturday. SK Telecom sat pretty at a respectable +7% on Mr. Choi's bulky monitor. I walked into the study, the smell of old paper and pipe tobacco hit me. "Looking solid, sir. Steady climb," I offered, forcing the easy tone.
He wasn't looking at SK Telecom. His monitor was showing the NeoPharm chart, still riding its artificial high.
His gaze, however, was fixed on a small, crumpled piece of notepad paper on his desk – a sheet I vaguely recognized as one I'd used for writing down random thoughts during our sessions.
My heart skipped a beat. What was on it?
He turned slowly. His eyes, usually sharp, looked extra cold in the weak winter light.
"NeoPharm, Min-jun," his voice was rough and low "Quite the little miracle these past month and a half or so. Especially... convenient for anyone who knew exactly when to hop on and hop off."
He tapped the crumpled paper. On it, in my quick handwriting, were words I had carelessly written while making my online profiles — a list I must have thrown into my study notes: "DayTraderKim" , "saviourGojo" and "NeoPharm" , "How to make it go up", "when to sell", "how to buy low and sell high" — all the trading stuff I was trying to figure out.
My gut clenched. I felt cold inside. "Yeah, lots of hype, sir," I said. I tried to sound calm, but I wasn't. "Everyone's talking about it on the forums. Like it's catching fire."
"Hype?" He said the word like it was poison. "Or a carefully planned lie? I saw these names," he pointed at the paper, "showing up a lot on some trading forums… all talking about this company. Tell me, boy," he leaned forward, the old chair creaking, "do you really think it's a coincidence that every time these 'users' appear, the trading volume jumps? That every bit of 'good news' had fake fans cheering it on?"
His hands tightened on the arm-rest. "You made a smart point the other week, Min-jun, about how feelings can create 'self-fulfilling prophecies' in small stocks. That made me look closely at the market . Then I found this." He tapped the paper. "I've seen this trick many times before. This isn't luck. It's a scam."
Denial was pointless. The physical evidence, combined with his own market insights and my earlier cynical comment, had him.
He wasn't guessing; he was sure of it. "The market runs on information, sir," I shot back, the heat rising in my own chest even though the room was cold. "Some people... they're just better at using it. Those who bought? They made their choice." The old feelings of regret , it made me defensive , like a shield going up.
"Choice?" The word exploded from him.
His fist slammed onto the heavy oak desk. Teacups jumped, spilling tea onto old financial sheets . Yoo-jin, sitting silently with her book in the corner , flinched. " What choice does an pensioner have when you sell lies about a miracle cure ? What choice does a young father sweating over bills have when you give him false hopes doubling his money ? I saw those posts, Min-jun! I saw how you took advantage of their need!" His face was red, a vein throbbing at his temple".
"Decades ago... I was that young father. Lost everything – everything – to a con man selling the same lies ! Is that who you are now? Hmm? Another snake?"
"The world isn't some fairytale, Mr. Choi!" I snapped. The carefully curated apprentice facade was gone. "You think the big players follow the rules? The institutions? They twist markets every damn day with their fancy reports and whispered 'guidance'! What I did was pocket change compared to their scams!"
"So just because they steal truckloads, you think it's okay to steal small ? That's your moral compass?" he shouted, spit flying - "I tried to teach you about building something! Creating value! Not to take advantage of people's struggles like some street scammer! "
"My family this is for them , i do what is necessary , i need to toughen up!" I shouted back , my voice shaking.
"My sister... Hana... she'll have a chance now! A real one! Is wanting that so fucking wrong?" The words sat between us , bitter and cutting.
"Oh this is your justification ? There are right ways and wrong ways, Min-jun!" he said, voice low and broken now , "And chose the wrong way. You chose to be a thief. A liar."
The words hit hard. The pain was immediate, brutal. "Maybe," I said, in whispering sound, cold air was seeping through the window. "But I won't apologize for wanting to win in a game rigged from the start against people like us." I stood up, the chair scarping loudly on the wooden floow
"Thank you for the lessons, Mr. Choi. They were... honest and showed me a lot." I didn't look at Yoo-jin. Couldn't.
The weight of her gaze, mix of shock and something far worse – disappointment, maybe pity. I pulled the study door open and slammed it behind me. The sound filled the hall , loud like a gunshot.
Mr. Choi sat back onto the worn leather sofa, the springs made a weak, tired sound. The room felt big and empty , filled only with the faint smell of pipe smoke. His trembling hand found a small, framed photo on the messy side table – a younger him, impossibly young, his wife smiling, and a little girl with pigtails and a gap-toothed smile. Not Yoo-jin . Another daughter. Gone. Taken.
It was some kind of scam that was partially responsible for it and the reason he is living so far away from that noise. A bitter taste filled his mouth.
History , it seemed , liked cruel jokes.