The summer rain pounded against the small basement window, sounding like gravel being thrown at the glass. But the noise inside the room was louder.
"It's gone! It's all gone!" Grandpa Byung-ho was pacing the floor, clutching his chest. He looked like he was having a stroke. "Min-jun! The news says it was hacked! The exchange is dead!"
Min-jun sat at the computer, his face illuminated by the blood-red glow of the monitor.
Mt. Gox Price: $0.01.
Just days ago, Bitcoin had hit $32.00. Their 5,000 BTC holdings were briefly worth $160,000 (approx. 170 Million KRW). Then, the hack happened. A security breach at Mt. Gox. Panic selling. A flash crash.
In minutes, the price had plummeted from $17 to pennies.
"We were rich!" Byung-ho shouted, grabbing Min-jun’s shoulder. "For three days, we were rich! And you didn't sell! You greedy bastard, you didn't sell!"
"Grandpa, let go," Min-jun said, his voice calm but strained. "It's a flash crash. It's artificial."
"Artificial? It's zero! My 500,000 won is gone! Your inheritance is gone!"
Min-jun stood up. He grabbed the old man's trembling hands.
"Grandpa. Look at me."
Byung-ho was hyperventilating. The trauma of the IMF crisis—of waking up to find your money worthless—was resurfacing.
"Do we hold our coins on Mt. Gox?" Min-jun asked firmly.
"W-what?"
"Do we keep our coins on the exchange?"
"No... they are in the kimchi pot. On the USB."
"Exactly," Min-jun said. "The exchange was hacked. The ledger was not. Our coins are safe. The price on the screen is a lie because the marketplace is broken. But the asset is still in the jar."
"But nobody wants them! If nobody buys them, they are worthless!"
"I want them," Min-jun said.
He turned back to the screen. The price was bouncing back erratically as Mt. Gox suspended trading. It stabilized around $2.00.
From $32 to $2. A 94% drop. To a normal investor, this was the end. The bubble had popped. Bitcoin was a scam.
Min-jun looked at the chart. He knew the future. This was the first "death" of Bitcoin. It would die 400 more times. And each time, it would rise stronger.
"Grandpa," Min-jun whispered. "If you sell now, you lock in the loss. You prove the world right. But if you hold... you prove them wrong."
"I'm too old for this," Byung-ho slumped onto the floor. "I can't watch the money disappear, Min-jun. It hurts physically."
"Then don't watch," Min-jun turned off the monitor. The room went dark. "From today, we forget the kimchi pot exists. We don't dig it up. We don't talk about it. We wait for the winter to pass."
Byung-ho stared at the black screen. "How long is winter?"
"A few years," Min-jun lied (it would be 18 months). "But spring always comes."
November 10, 2011. The Day of Judgment. College Scholastic Ability Test (CSAT).
The entire country of South Korea held its breath. Flights were grounded to prevent noise during the listening exam. The stock market opened an hour late. Police cars escorted late students with sirens blaring.
It was the Suneung. The single day that determined your caste in Korean society.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Min-jun stood at the gates of his testing center. Mothers were praying on the pavement, clutching rosaries and talismans.
Min-jun’s mother, Sun-ja, fixed his scarf. Her eyes were red. "Here," she handed him a thermos of warm tea and a box of sticky rice cakes (Yeot) so the answers would 'stick'. "Don't be nervous. Just do your best. Even if you don't get into a SKY university, we still love you."
Min-jun smiled. "I'll be home for dinner, Mom."
He walked through the gates. He wasn't nervous. He had traded derivatives with 50x leverage. He had stared down loan sharks. He had managed a logistics company's burn rate. A multiple-choice test? This was a vacation.
Period 1: Korean Language. Min-jun read the passages. It was pattern recognition. Logic flow. Easy.
Period 2: Mathematics. He finished in 40 minutes. He spent the remaining time mentally calculating the valuation of Hermes Logistics based on the Q3 user growth metrics.
Period 3: English. He read the questions. The grammar was awkward, archaic "textbook" English that no native speaker used. But he knew the rules of the game. He selected the answers the test makers wanted, not the ones that were linguistically natural.
As he bubbled in the OMR sheet, Min-jun’s mind drifted.
Jin Hyuk-jae. The heir wouldn't be taking this test. Or if he did, it was a formality. He was likely already accepted into Yonsei or a US Ivy League through a "special donation admission" or a rigged "global talent" track.
The front door is locked for the poor, Min-jun thought, shading in answer C. So I have to kick it down.
To defeat the Daegwang Group, Min-jun needed legitimacy. He couldn't be a shadowy figure forever. He needed the alumni network. He needed the title. Seoul National University. Business Administration. The factory of the Korean elite.
He put down his pencil. The bell rang.
November 14, 2011. The News.
Four days after the exam. Min-jun was at the PC Bang, but not for gaming. He was looking at the stock ticker.
[BREAKING] SK Telecom selected as preferred bidder for Hynix Semiconductor.
Min-jun stopped breathing. It happened. The "Debt Zombie" had found a savior. The SK Group, a telecommunications giant with massive cash reserves, was buying the chipmaker.
H-Semicon (000660) Stock Price: 29,000 -> 32,500 (+12% VI).
The uncertainty was gone. The "Creditor Management" era was ending. The stock wouldn't go to the moon overnight—the market was still skeptical about SK's ability to run a chip company—but the floor was now solid concrete.
Madam Jang's loan was safe. The collateral was bulletproof.
Min-jun leaned back in his chair. He checked his phone. A text from Oh Jae-il. "Boss. We hit 10,000 monthly active users. Coupang wants to expand the contract to the entire Seoul region."
A text from his Mom. "Min-jun, come home early. I made Galbi-jjim."
He looked at the screen. Bitcoin was dead (for now). But Hynix was alive. Hermes was flying. And the Suneung was over.
For the first time since his regression, Min-jun felt the crushing weight on his shoulders lift by a millimeter.
December 2011. Acceptance Day.
The computer screen refreshed. Min-jun, his father, and his grandfather crowded around the monitor in the living room. His mother was in the kitchen, too scared to look.
[Seoul National University - Admissions Result] Name: Kang Min-jun. Department: College of Business Administration. Status: ACCEPTED (Full Scholarship).
"Yes!" His father shouted, punching the air. "Yes! My son! SNU! SNU!"
Dong-wook grabbed Min-jun and hugged him, lifting him off the ground. The taxi driver was weeping openly. "I did it... we did it... no more taxi driving for you. You're going to be a Minister! A CEO!"
His mother ran in, dropping the ladle, crying as she hugged them both.
Even Grandpa Byung-ho wiped a tear from his eye. "A dragon from a ditch," Byung-ho muttered proudly. "A real dragon."
Min-jun hugged his family. He smelled his father's cheap cologne and his mother's cooking.
In his previous life, he had gotten into a mid-tier university. He had worked his way up through sheer grit, always feeling inferior to the SNU graduates at Daegwang Group. Now, he was one of them. He had the golden ticket.
But as he looked over his father's shoulder at the acceptance screen, Min-jun’s eyes were cold.
SNU Business School. It wasn't just a school. It was where the children of the Chaebols went to network. It was where the children of the politicians went to find donors.
He wasn't going there to study. He was going there to hunt.
[Volume 2 Conclusion] The High School Arc was over. The Seed was planted. The Unicorn was born. The Ticket was punched.
Now, the real game began. Volume 3: The Campus War.
[TRANSACTION LOG - YEAR END 2011]
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Asset: H-Semicon (000660)
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Status: HOLD.
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Current Price: 34,200 KRW (Post-SK Announcement).
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Unrealized Gain: +45% (Entry ~23,500).
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Equity Value: ~28 Million KRW.
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Loan Status: Servicing Interest (450k/month).
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Asset: Bitcoin
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Status: HOLD (Deep Loss).
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Current Price: $4.20.
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Unrealized Loss: -95% from peak (but +5000% from entry).
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Asset: Hermes Logistics
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Status: Series B Funded. Breaking Even on Operating Cash Flow.
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Personal Stake: 85% (Diluted by Coupang/Jae-il).
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Personal Status:
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Identity: SNU Freshman (Class of 2012).
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Cash: ~2.1 Million KRW (Low).