In the office, where a subtle heat lingered like an afterglow, I brought the long yet brief one-month-long festival to its end.

“All positions cleared?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

—Smile.

“Good. Let’s take the day off.”

A cheer erupted. I waved to my loyal subordinates, who were drenched in exhaustion as though they might collapse, and stepped into my private room.

‘I feel like I’m going to die...’

Thud.

Physically, it hadn’t been that hard. My body was like a thin yet resilient thread—weak in strength, but brimming with vitality.

Mentally, on the other hand, it had been quite grueling.

“Heh. Huu, haa...”

Especially at the end—it was nerve-wracking. No matter how much the exchange rate didn’t move exactly as I wished, I didn’t think hitting 2,000 won per dollar would be this hard.

Originally, I had projected up to 2,300 won... Probably other forces had joined in. If I’d pulled out just a little later, I might have been screwed.

“First... let’s get this done before anything else.”

I forced my drowsy eyes open and focused on the screen, as if plunging my head into it. After living on barely three hours of sleep per day for weeks, fatigue was creeping in.

If I fell asleep now, I’d probably sleep a solid twelve hours.

Click.

$120 billion from shorting the won and attacks on other parts of East Asia... $20 billion, $19 billion, $24.3 billion in options, $2.8 billion in futures, $50 billion in stocks, $70 billion in CDS...

‘And I shaved $24.3 billion off the options in exchange for dismantling a few funds, so I should subtract that...’

Ah, and there’s $50 billion tied up outside of Korea. That should be added too.

I worked my slightly rusty brain to calculate Alpha Fund’s total assets.

Total:

$331.8 billion.

At that moment, a lightning bolt struck my brain, and I blacked out.

***

$300 billion.

Just thinking about it made my scalp tingle.

Crazy...

I had collapsed into sleep like I’d fainted, and even after waking, I was still basking in the afterglow. I’d been too consumed by the frenzy to process it, but now that I’d crossed the finish line and looked back, a mountain of money was piled behind me.

I had known. I’d capped the maximum at $400 billion.

But knowing and feeling were two different things. This... this was truly an insane number.

Even Ha Yeong-il, who had worked on Wall Street and seen massive amounts of money, stood with his mouth agape, mumbling in disbelief.

“Ha... ha... $300 billion. At today’s rate, that’s ₩600 trillion, right?”

His bloodshot eyes and the twisted smile made him look slightly deranged—but I was probably no better.

“$300 billion... Ah... ahaha! God, this is such a strange feeling.”

Even if we handed out ₩10 million to every one of Korea’s 50 million citizens, we’d still have ₩100 trillion left.

Of course, the exchange rate won’t stay like this forever, so for a more realistic figure...

Korea’s ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) current GDP is $600 billion. That means this is literally enough to buy half of Korea.

Even with all the current bubble in the markets, I could buy five or six Microsofts, cover the entire U.S. annual defense budget and still have some left, even build two space stations up in the sky.

You could argue it’s just a “mere double” from the original money—but it’s not. The previous $150 billion was mostly debt. But now, almost all of the $300 billion is mine.

Looking at just the capital alone, excluding liabilities, that’s $200 billion. If I maintain the leverage at about 5x, Alpha Fund’s assets would exceed $1 trillion.

J.P. Morgan Chase, the world’s largest investment bank, holds $600 billion in assets and $60 billion in capital. I’ve just overtaken that by multiple folds—instantly.

“Hoo, and it’s not even $300 billion, it’s $331.8 billion.”

“Ahaha, right. Almost rounded that down by accident. Though... didn’t the dotcom bubble take a dip just now? Factoring that in, wouldn’t it round out closer to $300 billion?”

When I mumbled that nonsense, Ha Yeong-il shook his head and chuckled softly.

“We put in $50 billion—how could $30 billion disappear? Even if it dipped, the loss would barely scratch $1 billion. Add it all up, it’s probably $331.6 billion or so.”

Ah. Right.

A mere $1 billion...

I shuddered at the sense of generational shift—even toward myself.

It was insane. No, it wasn’t me that was crazy—it was the world.

‘Well, either way, what does it matter?’

I was now the richest person alive.

***

I had earned a terrifying amount of money. There was no way it wouldn’t become an issue.

At any other time, maybe not—but right now, every financial expert in the world was watching the Asian market. And given that derivatives are, by nature, a zero-sum game, someone asking where all that money had gone was inevitable.

Rustle.

“As expected, they’re digging like mad. If we hadn’t built this scale, we’d be in serious trouble.”

I clicked my tongue while reading the morning paper. I had prepared for this, but it was simply too large a sum to hide.

[“Conquered Wall Street?” Analysts estimate someone gained over $100 billion amid East Asia’s financial meltdown]

[Goldman Sachs CEO: “A new predator of the financial era has appeared. The global order will be reshaped.”]

[Morgan Stanley chief strategist: “Unidentified mega-capital is destabilizing the market with extreme volatility”]

For the past few days, Wall Street had been in chaos like a kicked beehive. Word had spread that “someone” had raked in an astronomical sum during this crisis.

Top investment banks scrambled to hold emergency meetings, and analysts pulled all-nighters writing up reports analyzing the root and consequences of the situation while we were celebrating.

How did they figure it out? Simple. This world’s too small for secrets.

—Damn, we lost a ridiculous amount. How can anyone not profit in this market?

—Wow, strange. We took a beating too. At least we won’t get fired, I guess.

—...? If you didn’t win, who did? Soros? Tiger Fund?

—Not us, either.

If someone loses money, someone else has to gain it. That’s one of the few truths in this world.

No matter how secretive hedge funds are about their positions, after the war ends, whispers always spread. Several fund managers realized that none of them had come out as the winner.

The very next day, every financial news channel aired special reports about the “mystery investor,” and panels made all sorts of guesses.

A shadowy force that had reaped incomprehensible profits from East Asia’s financial crisis. The estimated scale—at least $100 billion—left even Wall Street veterans speechless.

[“Not Soros, not Robertson... Who is the ‘invisible hand’ that shook Asia?”]

Names like George Soros, who once crushed the Bank of England, and Julian Robertson of Tiger Fund were mentioned—but most analysts concluded they were far too small in scale to be the culprits.

Even if you added up their profits, it wouldn’t approach the rumored $100 billion. In fact, Tiger Fund was rumored to have suffered massive losses trying to play Korea’s forex market.

Considering most of that mystery money came from the Korean theater, it meant Tiger Fund had become prey—devoured by someone else.

The anonymous figure was already becoming a legend on Wall Street.

“...Will you reveal it?”

It was Lee Si-hyun, who had come to greet me after a long while. Upon hearing the figure $300 billion, she’d been momentarily dazed, but she still held unwavering faith in me.

Snort.

“Of course I will. I’ve built everything up for this moment.”

Maybe in the past, no—but now, Alpha Fund held undeniable recognition and connections.

Didn’t I already feel it not long ago? When I earned tens of billions of dollars at the age of eighteen, instead of pointing fingers at some young Asian girl daring to take America’s money—they gave me applause and praise.

“Oh, of course I’ll spin it a little. If I want to skim some off, I’ll have to report a lower asset figure.”

“...Heh.”

Si-hyun let out a soft laugh. She was probably calculating my net worth in her head right now.

Shrug.

“Alpha Fund needs to draw attention this time. It'll make things easier behind the scenes.”

Thanks to that, Alpha Fund’s reported assets would drop to around $250 to $270 billion—but I didn’t think anyone would question it.

Who in the world would hear that I made $100 billion and go, “Hey, didn’t you actually make $150 billion instead?”

They’d be too busy praising Alpha Fund’s achievements and churning out gossip about the two young genius fund managers who had earned hundreds of billions at such a young age.

Charles, who’d now find himself in the media spotlight out of nowhere, might struggle a bit... but with enough money, he’ll be fine.

“I wonder if Korea will manage to hold on... I’m worried I drained too much out of them.”

As the saying goes—when whales fight, the shrimp’s back gets broken. Even though I tried to give Korea as much leeway as I could, its economy was in complete shambles.

I just hope they hold out until I can help again. But that’s what worries me a bit.

I let out a sigh that sounded almost regretful.