Chapter 15: Earning Pocket Money (4)

After visiting Executive Director Ha Jusung, I was lying on my fluffy bed, munching on snacks, soothing my body tired from being outside.

Even though I’ve scattered crumbs all over the bed…

Yeah, I don’t care.

Lee Sihyeon, my secretary, bodyguard, errand runner, and cleaning lady, will clean it up.

“Miss, I have a question.”

I don’t know why, but Lee Sihyeon, staring intently at my crumb-covered hands, cautiously looked at me before asking. It seemed to be a somewhat impolite question.

I rubbed my hands on the blanket, wiping them off before answering.

“Yes. Ask away.”

“Why did you only invest 100 million won? If it was such a certain opportunity, you could have borrowed money, or even converted your assets into cash to invest. Even if you just put in the 50 million won you gave me…”

“Aha, you wanted to invest too?”

She waved her hands, denying it.

“Ah, no, no. How could I… u-unless you were okay with it, Miss. About 40 million won, excluding the money I need…”

I chuckled, shaking my head.

“Hey, it’s not like I’d mind. It’s good for me if you make money. I just wanted to earn some pocket money.”

“Then maybe…”

It’s unfortunate for Sihyeon, who’s expecting a 100-fold return, but all the seats are taken.

“But that’s difficult. This is a special case, 100 million won is the maximum I considered. I told you, derivatives are zero-sum games.”

Someone wins, someone loses.

If I win 10 billion won, someone loses 10 billion won.

And that someone will be one of the most promising, most aggressive players on Wall Street.

“10 billion won is fine. It’s not like the loss falls on only one side; aggressive investors sometimes take such losses.”

But more than that is risky.

The moment the loss becomes ‘catastrophic’ rather than ‘occasional’, that person will harbor resentment.

The OTC nature of the trade means my information and position are openly known. They’ll blame someone specifically, rather than just bad luck.

I know. It’s a contract. A pre-existing agreement. There’s no reason for resentment.

But people aren’t that straightforward. Even if they don’t show it, they’ll remember it.

Am I crazy to make an enemy of a Wall Street fund manager?

Remember. Money isn’t everything.

“Ah…”

Lee Sihyeon looks a little disappointed, but understands, as expected of a clever person.

…And, I haven’t told her everything.

‘A well-fed hunting dog gets lazy.’

Rewards shouldn’t be too small, nor too big. Our relationship isn’t that close; we’ve only known each other for a year or two.

I subtly guide her thinking.

“If I used all my assets, around 10 billion won, I could make several hundred billion. But… who would believe that?”

“B-believe what?”

“Forgot? My account isn’t mine. It’s grandpa’s. No one will entrust that much money to an eight-year-old. Not even America.”

Money needs power to protect it.

“I don’t know much, but the FBI might investigate. A hired killer might appear, or they might simply refuse payment, exploiting the OTC nature of the deal.”

It may sound like a lie, but something similar happened during 9/11. The US government investigated those who profited massively from options.

Especially those of color—Asians or Arabs—faced stricter scrutiny; many were wrongly accused.

“…They could refuse payment? It’s a trade?”

Ah, she doesn’t know. Institutions sometimes disable buy buttons on trading apps because of their own short selling, pretending nothing happened.

They cause financial crises and then hold bonus parties.

“You could have asked Ha Jusung; he would have explained that. It’s a shame. That’s why he’s here.”

I shrug, seeing her speechless.

“It’s easier to manage smaller sums. There’s no one to absorb that volume anyway; it’s a pointless assumption. The derivatives market is still small.”

Super-rich people worldwide don’t have incredibly high returns. Like a snowball that becomes too large to manage alone, so too is money.

“Ah, yes. I understand.”

Lee Sihyeon seems overly tense due to the sudden mention of 10 billion won. The maturity date is far off; there’s no need to worry yet.

“This is just a bit of seasoning; the real thing starts next month. Buying options starts then. Relax.”

Lee Sihyeon sighs in relief.

“Ah, yes. I’m sorry. I was too nervous…”

“Don’t overthink it. I told you, it’s pocket money.”

I smile.

It’s like spending a night at a casino that’s happy to pay me.

No need to overthink it.

***

September 18, 1985. Wall Street.

Stanley Miller is troubled at Dreyfus Fund.

“Damn it. Should I sell?”

Normally, this wouldn’t be an issue. The exchange rate shift is imminent; he bought many options across a wide spread (210-230 yen) in 5 yen increments.

But someone wants a 215 yen barrier option.

‘Haa… should I just sell?’

Only 50,000 dollars…

It’s not a major asset. The fund’s foreign exchange option assets are insignificant compared to its core assets; even a 100-fold return is only millions of dollars.

Focus on the main fund, managing hundreds of millions of dollars. Small gains are hardly noticeable.

Triple Witching Day is in two days. He could lose tens of millions trying to earn millions.

After a moment of thought, he shakes his head.

“Tsk. Why am I even bothering?”

It’s not his money; just sell it.

He’s already dissatisfied with his compensation from the fund. How much has he done for them?

-Click.

Miller frowns, picks up the phone. He calls an Asian fund manager he met.

[Oh, Mr. Miller. Have you decided?]

“Yes.”

An unpleasant person.

Devoid of human feeling, calmly suggesting collaboration after stabbing someone.

His willingness to cooperate even with those who harmed him was strange. Even cold-blooded Wall Street fund managers are emotional.

A classically rational person, much to the delight of classical economists.

But like classical economics, he was pushed out of Tokyo and returned to his obscure homeland…

He must have been right. The world is not expressed by equations.

Miller accepts the offer with renewed confidence.

“Fine. Sell the options as you said. I don’t want to bother with such trifles.”

[Trifles… Haha, yes, of course. For a Dreyfus Fund manager, this is peanuts.]

It seems like a provocation, but it’s not. Flattery, perhaps.

“Yes. I’m trying to earn some pocket money, but failing to prepare for Triple Witching Day would be ridiculous. The rumors would hurt my career.”

The value of money differs.

For Lee Sihyeon, millions of dollars are unimaginable.

For Ha Jusung, a successful fund manager, it’s considerable.

But… for a Wall Street genius…

Mere pocket change. Focusing on it risks greater losses.

A future legend, a living money-making machine who would later use short selling to subdue the Bank of England and derail Britain’s euro adoption, makes this rational judgment.

***

“Who wins a chicken game?”

“Um… the fearless one?”

“What if both are fearless?”

What if both players are insane?

“…”

“The one with less to lose.”

Therefore, I must win.