The air in the PC Bang was usually filled with the sounds of virtual warfare—the gunfire of Sudden Attack and the alien screeches of StarCraft. But tonight, the noise died down, replaced by a murmuring current of fear.
Min-jun was in his usual seat, booth 42, reading a digital report on global liquidity flows. He sensed the shift in atmosphere before he heard it. The high schoolers around him took off their headsets. The owner turned up the volume on the wall-mounted TV.
[BREAKING NEWS] ROKS Cheonan sinks off the coast of Baengnyeong Island. 104 sailors on board. Rescue operations underway. Cause unknown.
"Is it war?" someone whispered. "Did North Korea shoot it?" "My brother is in the Navy... fcuk."
Min-jun stared at the screen. The footage was grainy, showing rescue flares illuminating the dark, choppy waters of the Yellow Sea.
To the rest of the room, this was a tragedy. To the boys facing conscription, it was a nightmare.
To Kang Min-jun, it was a calendar entry.
March 26, 2010. The Cheonan Sinking. 46 sailors KIA. Cause: North Korean torpedo.
Min-jun closed his eyes. He felt a pang of genuine sorrow—he wasn't a robot, and the loss of life was tragic. But the sorrow was instantly compartmentalized, shoved into a box labeled 'Emotions', while the box labeled 'Market Logic' tore open.
Monday, Min-jun calculated. The market is closed for the weekend. Panic will fester for forty-eight hours. By Monday morning, the KOSPI will gap down. Foreign investors, sensitive to geopolitical risk, will dump Korean assets. The 'Korea Discount' will spike.
His phone buzzed. It was Grandpa.
"Min-jun!" The old man’s voice was shrill, trembling. "Turn on the TV! It's war! The Reds attacked!"
"I'm watching it, Grandpa. Calm down."
"Calm down? A ship sank! We need to sell. Monday morning, as soon as the market opens, we sell everything. If war breaks out, the stock market goes to zero! We need cash to buy rice and canned food!"
This was the reaction of the 'Ant'—the retail investor. Panic. Flight. Survival instinct. It was why poor people stayed poor during crises, while the rich got richer.
"Grandpa," Min-jun said, his voice dropping an octave, channeling the authority of a Director. "Listen to me carefully. Do not touch the account."
"Are you crazy? Kim Jong-il is going to invade!"
"He won't," Min-jun said coldly. "China won't let him. The US won't let him. And the South Korean government... they can't afford a war right now. The G20 Summit is in Seoul this November. They will condemn, they will sanction, but they will not shoot back."
"How do you know?"
"Because money hates war, but it loves the fear of war," Min-jun explained, though he knew the concepts were flying over the old man's head. "On Monday, everyone will panic. K-Motors will drop. Maybe to 21,000 won."
"21,000? We bought at 22,450! We'll lose... we'll lose almost a million won!"
"Only if we sell," Min-jun cut him off. "Paper losses are not real losses. Monday is not the time to sell, Grandpa. It's the time to buy."
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"Buy? With what money? We spent it all!"
Min-jun paused. He looked at the flickering screen of the news broadcast.
"Do you have anything else? Gold rings? Your emergency medical stash? Anything liquid."
"You... you devil," Byung-ho gasped. "You want me to empty my coffin money?"
"I want to turn your coffin money into a palace," Min-jun said. "Grandpa, this is a 'Black Swan' event. The price will drop artificially because of fear, not because the company is bad. K-Motors is still launching the K5 next week. A torpedo doesn't change the car design. The fundamentals are unchanged. The price is a lie."
Silence stretched on the line. Min-jun could hear his grandfather breathing heavily, the sound of a lighter clicking.
"Monday morning," Byung-ho finally rasped. "I have... I have 3 million won hidden in the kimchi fridge. It was for my dental implants."
"Bring it," Min-jun said. "You'll get gold teeth instead."
Monday, March 29, 2010. 8:50 AM. Zero G PC Bang.
Min-jun had skipped school. He called in sick with "food poisoning."
He sat at the terminal, Grandpa Byung-ho hovering nervously behind him. The old man looked like he hadn't slept in two days. He was clutching a thick envelope of cash that they had deposited via ATM at dawn.
Cash Balance: 3,000,000 KRW.
"5 minutes to open," Min-jun muttered.
The pre-market quotes were a sea of blue (in Korea, red is up, blue is down). KOSPI Futures: -2.5%. K-Motors Expected Open: 21,300 KRW (-5.1%).
"It's crashing," Byung-ho whimpered, gripping the back of Min-jun's chair. "Look at all that blue. We are doomed."
"Fear," Min-jun said, his eyes scanning the order book. "Look at the sell orders. Small quantities. 10 shares. 50 shares. That's retail. That's regular people panicking."
9:00 AM. The Bell Rings.
The market opened. K-Motors gapped down instantly to 21,150 KRW.
"Sell it! Save what's left!" Byung-ho shouted.
"No!" Min-jun snapped. "Look at the Foreigner window."
While domestic individual investors were dumping millions of shares, the 'Foreign Net Purchase' column was ticking up.
Goldman. Morgan Stanley. Merrill Lynch. They were buying.
"The Americans know there won't be a war," Min-jun smiled grimly. "They are sweeping up the shares that our terrified citizens are throwing away."
Min-jun waited. He watched the chart. 21,150... 21,100... 21,050...
It hit a support level. The selling volume slowed down. The panic was exhausting itself.
"Catch the falling knife," Min-jun whispered.
He typed in the order. BUY. 3,000,000 KRW. Limit Price: 21,100 KRW.
"Min-jun-ah..." Byung-ho covered his eyes.
Click.
The order went through.
[Order Executed: 142 Shares at 21,100 KRW.]
Min-jun leaned back. He had just averaged down. His total average cost was now lower, and his exposure was higher.
"Now," Min-jun said, taking a sip of his lukewarm coffee. "We just have to wait for the President to give a speech saying 'We will remain calm,' and the market will realize the world isn't ending."
"And if it does end?" Byung-ho asked, sinking into the spare chair.
"Then money won't matter anyway because we'll be radioactive dust."
Wednesday, March 31, 2010.
The market recovery was V-shaped and violent.
As news reports confirmed that the US and South Korea were pursuing diplomatic censures rather than military retaliation, the KOSPI roared back.
Min-jun sat in his math class, discreetly checking the price on his phone under the desk.
K-Motors: 22,800 KRW.
They had recovered all losses from the panic and were now in profit on the new shares.
Total Shares: 607. Avg Price: ~22,130 KRW. Current Equity: ~13.8 Million KRW.
He had made money on a national tragedy. In his past life, he might have felt guilt. Now, he just felt the cold satisfaction of being right.
He looked out the window. The cherry blossoms were starting to bloom. Spring was coming.
And with spring, the New York Auto Show.
The coil was compressed. The panic had shaken out the weak hands. The only people left holding the stock were the believers and the institutions.
Fly, Min-jun thought, staring at the buds on the trees. Fly me out of this poverty.
[TRANSACTION LOG]
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Date: March 29, 2010
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Account: Kang Byung-ho
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Asset: K-Motors (000270.KS)
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Action: BUY (Averaging Down / Buying the Dip)
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Capital Injection: 3,000,000 KRW (Grandfather's Dental Fund)
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Quantity: 142 Shares
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Entry Price: 21,100 KRW
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Total Holdings: 607 Shares
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New Average Cost: ~22,130 KRW
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Portfolio Risk: EXTREME (100% Allocation + Emergency Funds deployed).