The lobby of the securities firm was quiet, smelling of floor wax and stale air conditioning. A digital ticker tape ran across the wall, flashing red numbers that meant nothing to the few elderly people dozing in the waiting chairs.
To the staff, Kang Min-jun and Kang Byung-ho were an odd pair. A seventy-year-old man in a worn-out hiking vest clutching a plastic bag, and a teenage boy in a mustard-yellow school uniform with a backpack slung over one shoulder.
They looked like they were there to ask for directions, not to open a trading account.
"Ticket number 104," the automated voice chimed.
Min-jun nudged his grandfather. Byung-ho stood up, adjusting his hat nervously. He held the black plastic bag against his chest as if it contained nuclear launch codes.
They sat at the counter. The clerk, a woman in her late twenties with tired eyes, forced a polite smile. Her nametag read Kim Ji-young.
"Welcome to Daewon Securities. How can I help you today?"
"I want to put money in," Byung-ho grunted, placing the bag on the counter. "And open an account."
The clerk peeked inside the bag. Her eyes widened slightly at the stacks of 50,000 won bills. Cash. Unlaundered, physical cash.
"I see," she said, her tone shifting to professional caution. "For a deposit of this size, we recommend our 'Safe Growth' Bond Fund. It yields 4% annually and is practically risk-free. Or perhaps a Time Deposit?"
"No funds," Min-jun cut in. His voice was calm, cutting through the air like a scalpel.
The clerk blinked, looking at the high school student. "Excuse me?"
"We don't want a managed fund with a 1.5% expense ratio and a front-end load fee," Min-jun said, rattling off the terms effortlessly. "We want a self-directed brokerage account. Direct market access."
The clerk frowned. "Student, stock trading is very risky. If your grandfather loses this money—"
"Set the commission tier to the digital lowest," Min-jun continued, ignoring her concern. "0.015% for HTS (Home Trading System) trades. No margin account yet, just cash. And please issue the OTP (One Time Password) generator immediately. We need to trade today."
The clerk stared at him. A sixteen-year-old shouldn't know about commission tiers or expense ratios. He spoke with the cadence of a frantic day-trader, or worse, an institutional manager.
"Grandfather," the clerk turned back to Byung-ho, bypassing the boy. "Is this what you want? If you sign for a self-directed account, the bank is not liable for any losses."
Byung-ho looked at the clerk, then at Min-jun. He saw the terrifying confidence in his grandson's eyes. He swallowed hard.
"Do what the kid says," Byung-ho muttered. "But give me the passbook. He doesn't touch the passbook."
Twenty minutes later, they walked out. Byung-ho had a bank book and a security card. Min-jun had the ID and password for the trading software scrawled on a sticky note.
"Where now?" Byung-ho asked, clutching the empty plastic bag. He looked lighter, but also terrified. "Home?"
"No," Min-jun checked his watch. "10:30 AM. The market is finding its morning direction. Our home internet is too slow. The latency is 50 milliseconds. We need speed."
He pointed down the street. A neon sign flashed in the daylight.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
ZERO G - PC BANG.
10:45 AM. Zero G PC Bang.
The air inside was thick with cigarette smoke and the smell of spicy ramen. It was a cavern of blue LED lights and the deafening clatter of mechanical keyboards.
Min-jun led his grandfather to a secluded corner booth.
"This is hell," Byung-ho coughed, waving the smoke away. "Why are there so many kids here? Shouldn't they be in school?"
"They skipped. Just like me," Min-jun muttered. He paid for three hours and sat down.
He booted up the computer. It hummed with power. He navigated to the Daewon Securities website and downloaded the HTS client.
Installing Cybos Starter...
The progress bar filled. Min-jun felt a familiar rush of adrenaline. In his previous life, he had commanded a terminal with six monitors, pulling data from Bloomberg, Reuters, and internal AI servers. Now, he had a single monitor stained with ramen broth.
It was enough.
He logged in. The interface popped up—a chaotic mess of grey windows, flashing numbers, and jagged lines.
"What is all this?" Byung-ho squinted at the screen. "It looks like the cockpit of a fighter jet."
"It is," Min-jun said. "And we're about to take off."
He typed in the code. 000270.
K-Motors (Kia).
The chart loaded.
Current Price: 22,400 KRW. Volume: 350,000 shares.
"Okay," Min-jun whispered. "Let's see who's hiding in the water."
He opened the 'Hoga-chang' (Order Book). This was the window that showed the queue of buyers and sellers.
"Grandpa, look here," Min-jun pointed to the right side of the screen. "See that number at 22,500 won?"
Byung-ho squinted. "It says... 45,000."
"That means there are 45,000 shares waiting to be sold at that price. That's a 'Wall'. Someone—a big institution—placed a huge sell order there to scare people. They want retail investors to think, 'Oh, the price can't go higher than 22,500,' so they sell their shares cheap."
"So we shouldn't buy?" Byung-ho asked anxiously. "If a big guy is selling?"
"No," Min-jun smiled. "We buy because he's selling. Look closely."
Min-jun pointed at the transaction log at the bottom. Buy 10. Buy 50. Buy 100.
Small orders were nibbling at the wall. But then, a flash.
BUY 5,000.
"Someone is eating the wall," Min-jun said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "They are suppressing the price to accumulate inventory. Once that 45,000 share wall is gone, there is no resistance until 23,000."
Min-jun's hand hovered over the mouse.
"Transfer the funds, Grandpa. Enter the OTP."
Byung-ho's hands shook as he pulled out the small digital token. He pressed the button. Six numbers appeared.
Min-jun typed them in. Deposit: 10,500,000 KRW.
Buying Power: ~466 Shares.
Min-jun set the order type to Market Order. He didn't want to haggle over 50 won. He wanted in.
"Wait," Byung-ho grabbed Min-jun's wrist. His grip was like iron. "Min-jun-ah. That money... that's my blood. That's ten years of carrying bricks on my back."
Min-jun stopped. He looked at his grandfather. He saw the fear. This wasn't a game to the old man. This was survival.
Min-jun turned his hand over and squeezed his grandfather's rough, calloused hand.
"I know," Min-jun said, his eyes locking with the old man's. "I'm not gambling with your blood, Grandpa. I'm building a foundation with it. Trust me. Just this once."
Byung-ho searched his grandson's face. He let out a long, shuddering breath and released his grip.
"Do it."
Min-jun turned back to the screen.
The Sell Wall at 22,500 dropped to 15,000. Then 5,000.
Crunch.
The wall vanished. The price ticked up to 22,450.
Min-jun clicked [BUY].
A pop-up window appeared. Order Executed. Bought 465 Shares of K-Motors at 22,450 KRW.
Min-jun leaned back in the creaky leather chair. The noise of the PC Bang—the shouting gamers, the clatter of keys—rushed back into his ears.
He had just bet his family's entire liquid net worth on a car company that most people still associated with faulty transmissions.
"Is it done?" Byung-ho asked.
"It's done," Min-jun said. He minimized the window. "Now, we wait."
"For how long?"
Min-jun looked at the date. March 3rd.
"Exactly twenty-nine days," Min-jun said. "April 1st. New York Auto Show. Until then, we don't look at the price. We don't flinch. Even if it drops."
"If it drops, I'm going to have a heart attack," Byung-ho muttered, lighting a cigarette despite the 'No Smoking' sign he was sitting directly under.
Min-jun watched the ticker for one last second.
22,450 -> 22,500.
The uptick had started.
The gears of the great machine were turning, and for the first time in two lives, Kang Min-jun was not being crushed between them. He was riding them.
[TRANSACTION LOG]
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Date: March 3, 2010
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Account: Kang Byung-ho (Proxy: Kang Min-jun)
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Asset: K-Motors (000270.KS) [Real Entity: Kia Motors]
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Action: BUY (Market Order)
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Quantity: 465 Shares
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Entry Price: 22,450 KRW
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Total Cost: 10,439,250 KRW (approx. with fees)
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Remaining Cash: ~60,000 KRW
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Leverage: None (1:1)
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Portfolio Allocation: 99.4% K-Motors.