A Wall Street Genius's Final Investment Playbook-Chapter 319: The 100-Billion Race (15)

Meanwhile, South Korea was in a complete state of celebration.

People who had followed Ha Si-heon’s bets were waving wads of cash and dancing, thanks to their skyrocketing returns.

—Player Ha Si-heon—goal! Yet again, he shakes the net today!

—South Korea! Clap clap clap clap clap!

—(Account proof) Is this a return rate or a phone number?

—Turned on my MTS app on the bus to work, then immediately got off. As of today, I’m done being a salaryman.

—Everyone, open your charts and bow your heads. This is divine territory.

But it wasn’t just small investors who were celebrating.

Even ordinary citizens who had never once opened a stock account were now clutching their smartphones, checking charts every few minutes.

The reason was simple.

<World’s First ‘100 Billion Dollar Fund’—Who’s the Real Originator?>

<“Japan’s Masayoshi vs. Korea’s Ha Si-heon”... A Battle of National Pride on Wall Street>

<Ha Si-heon Throws a Fastball at Masayoshi Son... “Did You Copy This One Too?”>

Because this was a Korea-Japan match.

The media breathlessly covered every development, while online communities and social media blazed with fiery commentary.

—Whenever Japan shows up, my blood kimchi concentration hits 200%.

—The only thing we’ll ever yield to Japan is fine dust.

—Let’s win and build CU, GS25, and Emart24 on Dokdo—Convenience Store Three Kingdoms!

<Korea vs. Japan.>

Those three words were like a sacred incantation that awakened the combative instincts etched into Korean DNA.

And this time, the intensity was on another level.

Because relations between the two countries had recently plummeted to their worst state in years.

<2015 Korea-Japan Comfort Women Agreement—The Hidden Backroom Deal Revealed>

In December 2015, amid public outrage, the Korean government hastily concluded the so-called comfort women agreement.

It was a closed-door negotiation, carried out unilaterally and without proper communication with the victims themselves.

Even then, critics had accused the government of trying to patch over a profound national wound—one demanding historical justice—with a sloppy, rushed deal.

And now, years later, the truth buried in state-corruption investigations had surfaced.

<Gov’t Promised to Remove “Statue of Peace”? “We’ll Find an Appropriate Solution”>

<Japan Attempted to Silence Victims... “Remain Quiet on the International Stage”>

<Gov’t Accepted “Final and Irreversible Resolution” Clause as Is>

<10 Billion Yen Wasn’t Compensation but “Consolation Money”... Japan Evades Responsibility>

Japan had dodged responsibility to the very end—and worse, sought to silence the victims forever.

But the real problem was that the Korean government had agreed to such an absurd demand without resistance.

It was a betrayal—selling off the nation’s pain and dignity at a bargain price.

<Public Fury Erupts: “End the Diplomacy of Humiliation!”>

<“This Agreement Is Null and Void!” Presidential Candidates Compete to Promise Renegotiation>

Faced with boiling public anger, every major presidential hopeful vowed to scrap the deal and reopen negotiations.

But Japan’s stance was ironclad.

<Japanese PM Declares “No Further Talks”—Shuts Door on Renegotiation>

Using the “final and irreversible” clause as a shield, Japan completely locked the door to dialogue.

When politics failed, citizens took matters into their own hands.

After the one in Seoul, another Statue of Peace was erected in front of the Japanese Consulate in Busan.

Japan’s counterattack came fast and hard.

<Gov’t Demands Immediate Removal of Busan Statue>

<Japanese Consul General Recalled—Korea-Japan Diplomatic Tensions Peak>

Recalling a consul general is, in diplomatic terms, practically cutting ties—an extreme gesture meaning, “We’re done talking to you.”

But that was only the beginning.

<Japan Halts Currency-Swap Talks with Korea—Economic Retaliation Card Played>

The Korea-Japan currency swap allowed Korea to borrow dollars from Japan in times of financial crisis.

For an export-dependent economy like Korea’s, it was an indispensable safety net.

If that disappeared, massive foreign-capital outflows could begin overnight.

Japan had struck directly at Korea’s economic weak spot.

And the pressure didn’t stop there.

<Japan Follows Up by Canceling High-Level Economic Talks>

<“Future Economic Cooperation Depends on Korea”—Hints at More Retaliation>

Japan’s message became increasingly blunt: “Remove the statue. Or there will be consequences.”

The internet exploded with rage.

—Since when was remembering history a crime?

—If we flinch for a few pennies, we’re signing up our descendants for generations of servitude.

—What’s the government doing? Taking our taxes just to stay silent?

There was only one thing the furious public demanded:

A strong counterattack.

To pay Japan back in kind—or better yet, to speak out boldly for once.

Yet the acting president’s caretaker administration could only repeat feeble statements like “We regret this situation.”

There was a reason.

Japan supplied key components and materials essential to Korea’s core industries like semiconductors and displays.

If Japan decided to impose export restrictions or tariffs in retaliation, Korea’s flagship sectors could be crippled overnight.

Such was the tragedy of an economic underdog—unable to cry for justice or defend historical truth before a stronger power.

Survival always came first, and righteous voices grew small.

But then—

At that bleak moment, Ha Si-heon appeared.

Right in the heart of world finance: Wall Street.

Just as Japan sought to dominate global markets with its hundred-billion-dollar mega-fund, Ha Si-heon stepped up to block its path.

The internet exploded with patriotic cheers.

—You watching this, government? This is how you face Japan!

—He’s shouting ‘Long Live Korean Independence’ in the middle of Wall Street!

—Japan’s doing economic warfare? Cute. We’ve got Ha Si-heon Nation.

—We’ll give your favorite line right back at you—taste some of that ‘final and irreversible’ loss!

Of course, the duel between Ha Si-heon and Masayoshi Son couldn’t actually change diplomatic relations. But for citizens suffocating under a powerless government, it was a thrilling proxy war.

As the whole nation held its breath, Masayoshi Son spoke first.

[You’re deflecting the point. Why are you listing sectors unrelated to your expertise—or even to healthcare itself?]

[And cryptocurrencies? Is that your grand vision of a future infrastructure?]

Masayoshi dissected every stock Ha Si-heon had mentioned, tearing his argument apart piece by piece.

But then—

<UABS, AWRB—Ha Si-heon’s Picks Skyrocket>

<Ha Si-heon’s Investment List Already on a “10-Wins, 6-Losses” Streak!>

Ha Si-heon’s stocks surged one after another, and each time they did, the nation erupted as if Korea had just scored in a World Cup final.

The profits flashing on their accounts were exhilarating—but even sweeter was watching arrogant Japan finally humbled.

—Beating Japan with economics—so damn satisfying.

—They cut the swap line? We’ll sign a profit-swap with Ha Si-heon instead.

—From now on, whenever Japan distorts history, Saint Si-heon shall descend again!

In truth, whether Ha Si-heon’s stocks succeeded or not had nothing to do with Japan. Even Masayoshi Son suffered nothing worse than a bruised ego.

But that, precisely, was what mattered.

To have “Japan’s pride crushed by money.”

It was a thrilling counterstrike against the recent bullying of an economic superpower.

The internet erupted in cheers, and the fervor swept across the nation in an instant.

—For all the citizens who need antacids, Saint Sean is slathering soothing ointment in the form of returns, lol.

—Do I have to exchange currency to buy U.S. stocks? I’m a newbie and don’t know anything ㅠ.

—Welcome to your first economic independence movement, right? Must-read guide for rookie retail investors: [www.saintseanmadeinkorea.com.]

—Is this the famous headquarters of the Ha Si-heon ‘Donghak’ retail-investor movement? Let me board too...

Now, “following Ha Si-heon” was evolving beyond simple investing into a kind of patriotic movement.

The eyes of the entire nation turned to the grand arena called Wall Street.

Right then, Masayoshi Son launched his counterattack.

[In the world of investing, what matters isn’t just picking the ‘winning horse,’ but how much profit you actually generate. And the very first button in asset management is the raise—that is, capital formation.]

[If the Cure Fund is truly that promising and your forecasts are so exceptional, why hasn’t a single anchor investor appeared yet?]

[Reality is cold. It means people might trust you with small sums, but they won’t entrust you with one hundred billion dollars.]

It was a painful point.

No matter how flashy your play in a scrimmage, the real game is different.

So then, what was the state of the “real game”?

In the 100-billion-dollar race, the tide was turning against Ha Si-heon.

Masayoshi Son had already raised 80 billion dollars and was nearing the finish line, while Ha Si-heon, unable to present a single major investor, was still stuck at the starting line.

However, Ha Si-heon answered calmly.

[Of course we already have an anchor investor. It’s just that discussions are ongoing, and some paperwork isn’t finalized yet, so we’re delaying an official announcement.]

The moment he said this, a memory flashed across Koreans’ minds.

When Ha Si-heon visited Korea, he had been spotted unusually often around Namsan, where the National Pension Service headquarters is located.

—Could it be... no way...

—Is the National Pension Service... Ha Si-heon’s anchor?

—The anchor investor he mentioned— In other words, the giant pool of capital now in talks—

—Could its owner be none other than the Republic of Korea?

Public opinion surged like a riptide.

The reason Ha Si-heon had been able to fight alone on Wall Street until now—

The reason he never shrank back, even before colossal capital—

Was precisely because he was never alone!

He might have looked like a solitary warrior, but not for a single moment was he truly alone.

There had always been a stalwart allied force at his back.

More trustworthy than anyone, more powerful than any capital—

An allied force of fifty million citizens of the Republic of Korea!

The reaction was explosive. Patriotism swelled hot across the entire country.

—Dear NPS, I’m sorry for cursing you all this time... didn’t realize it was the war chest to crush Japan.

—Just called the fund and paid off my overdue contributions, lol. Ammo loaded—ready to sortie, kek.

—Can you hear us, Light Si-heon! Use this to smash those bastards’ skulls!!”

—The money taken from my paycheck every month was independence-army funding... damn, I’m overwhelmed... Long live Korean independence!!! But when’s it happening? Ha Si-heon must be exhausted from all this independence fighting—send in the closer already.

By this point, everyone took the NPS investment as a foregone conclusion and cheered it on.

Their sortie felt already set in stone.

All that remained was to hold their breath and await the historic moment.

And amid those soaring expectations...

The National Pension Service stood before a momentous decision.

***

NPS headquarters, main conference room.

Twenty members of the Fund Management Committee had gathered in one place. They were members of the highest decision-making body with final authority over more than 700 billion dollars of the people’s retirement funds.

Once the members were seated, Chief Investment Officer (CIO) Pyo In-hwan began to speak.

“Thank you for attending on short notice. We have a new investment agenda that requires urgent review.”

Everyone’s eyes moved to the report at once. The title on the first page read—

<Request for Investment Approval: The Cure Fund (Proposed Size: 20 Billion USD)>

Twenty billion dollars—an astronomical sum that came to more than 26 trillion won. There was no precedent in NPS history for allocating that much to a single investment destination.

Several members frowned.

“Is there any need to rush a decision during such a sensitive period?”

“The first principle of investing is prudence. The natural course is to execute after the next administration is inaugurated, in line with the new national policy agenda.”

It was the pushback he had expected. The committee included four vice-ministers. In normal times, they would faithfully reflect the Blue House’s wishes.

But with impeachment having removed the control tower, there was no commander to issue orders. For them, the best option was to “do nothing.”

A wry smile flickered across Pyo In-hwan’s lips.

This place ostensibly existed for investing. In reality, it was nothing but a political arena—reading the administration’s mood, weighing ministerial interests, and scrambling to pass the buck.

That was the wall he had always faced. But today was different. Instead of the helplessness he always felt, a strange conviction was rising.

Ha Si-heon’s words rang clear in his ears.

“Before long, the people themselves will clamor for you to jump in. The committee will, of course, stall with all kinds of excuses. That’s when you—wearing the badge of ‘representative of the people’—step up and face the committee alone.”

Words whose meaning he hadn’t understood then—

He understood now.

“As the institution that manages the people’s pension, we must follow the people’s will. And what the people want right now could not be more clear—beyond any room for debate.”

He was fighting alone. But he was not alone. Behind his decision stood fifty million citizens.

Still, the bureaucratic wall was solid.

“Today’s public sentiment is likely to be temporary.”

“Give it a year, and the public will forget. But the responsibility for this investment lasts ten years or more. We need a cautious approach and ample review.”

Their conclusion was “postpone.”

But Pyo In-hwan did not waver. If anything, he spoke with an ease that suggested he had been waiting for this moment.

“So, you’re saying you ‘oppose’ this investment agenda as of now?”

Pyo slowly swept his gaze around the table. His expression was that of a man studying prey caught in a trap.

One member, meeting his eyes, flinched and rushed to clarify.

“No, not oppose per se... I mean it’s premature, and we should revisit it later.”

“The crux of this agenda is timing.”

Pyo cut him off. A cold light flashed in his eyes.

“What’s on the table is whether to invest now. Therefore, the options are only ‘for’ or ‘against.’ In this context, ‘postpone’ is indistinguishable from declaring, ‘we will not invest now’—which is plainly opposition.”

Ha Si-heon’s whispered advice brushed past his ear.

—Eliminate every gray area and force a black-and-white choice. Say that ‘later’ is still ‘no’ all the same.

The corners of Pyo’s mouth lifted, slowly. A composure he had never felt in his life wrapped around him. He continued in a firm voice.

“Of course, you’re free to vote against. However, every decision today will be recorded in full detail—which member chose what—and those records will be disclosed transparently to the public.”

The air in the room froze.

Pyo moved in for the slow, final confirmation.

“So that the people can know exactly which members opposed investing in The Cure Fund.”

“.... ”

The members’ faces turned to stone. Everyone in the room knew what it would mean to shout “against” here.

This wasn’t merely rejecting an investment proposal.

Ha Si-heon was fighting alone on Wall Street against the giant that was Japan. And this would be the act of stripping the ammunition—gathered by the people’s blood and sweat—from his hands with their own.

How would that choice look in the eyes of the public?

How would history record them?

Traitors, collaborators, sellouts.

It was a scarlet letter no Korean politician could afford to bear.

Pyo In-hwan slowly rose to his feet. His voice sounded low and weighty.

“Well then. If anyone still wishes to oppose, please speak freely.”