'He who pays the piper calls the tune.'
The rich endure for three generations even after ruin.
That's probably why that proverb exists.
Just selling off the family heirlooms is enough to live comfortably without worry.
Screeech!
And yet, they make the extreme choice anyway.
He opens the window.
Looking down from the 100th floor of a building in the world's financial heart, Wall Street—it's truly a sight to behold.
'Humans look smaller than ants.'
Failed titans of Wall Street must have thought the same.
Just a few hundred billion.
No matter what you do with the pocket change left, your heart doesn't race.
That's why they jumped.
Here on Wall Street, it's not yearly—weekly, names you recognize end their own lives.
'Yeah, just suicide and done~.'
That's no joke; it's reality.
I don't want to end my life that way.
Smooch!
I was saving this to celebrate when this crisis ended.
I didn't think I'd open it for another reason.
'If you're going, at least a bottle of whiskey is fine, right?'
Strong spirits.
He pops the cap and pours it straight into his mouth.
Liquid worth tens of billions slides thrillingly down his throat.
Rich sherry notes.
Even stronger peat bite.
The stimulating aroma of oak and cigar should stab at the nose.
Gulp! Gulp!
No leisure to savor it.
To me right now, it's just a bottle to get drunk on.
'If things change when I sober up, whatever it is.'
Macallan 1946—whiskey made right during World War II, as the name says.
Perfect for a loser like me.
Aged body.
Wrecked health.
Lost passion too.
No more thoughts of "starting over."
Better to vanish like the forgotten Wall Street titans.
📈 Nasdaq Composite Index 89,269.74 ▼892.70 (−1.00%) [Chart plummeting]
The second subprime mortgage crisis.
The liquidation of one hedge fund that drove global investors into panic ended as an anticlimactic sideshow.
The market, which had dropped -15% that day, closed at -1% thanks to swift government intervention and unusual cooperation from institutions.
I was just one of America's 1%.
Next episode
Morning.
A torturous time for me.
My utterly debilitated body refuses even to open its eyes.
Especially today.
Last night, I drank until my blood turned to alcohol.
"Haa~."
Ancient liquor.
Old, potent booze leaves a long aftertaste.
One that doesn't fade even after brushing.
I let out a yawn.
The flavor should linger.
I wanted to savor the remnants of that expensive booze at least.
'The building foreclosure should be coming around now... Huh?'
Only sweetness registers.
That sticky mouthfeel when you wake up.
My body feels oddly refreshed.
No—light.
How long since I last felt like I could float away?
'Huh?!'
I bolt up from bed.
Not to escape the room.
I look around.
『One Piece Vol. 35』
One Piece is here.
Manga.
Even if paper books were banned by 2035, it's not strange.
'Vol. 35? That's the episode Oda-sensei wrote.'
Up to the Water Seven arc, original author Oda drew it himself.
Even One Piece fans only acknowledge up to there.
That's why it commands a premium.
Traded at high prices among collectors—not something rolling around casually.
'All volumes from 1? I bought them back in the day.'
Market value over ten million won.
Mint sealed copies fetch hundreds of millions, they say.
Especially reevaluated after One Piece ended.
Why is such a treasure here?
'This... an old phone?!'
That's not all.
The object in my casually extended right hand is familiar.
No, impossible not to know.
Smartphone.
But it doesn't fold or bend?
An old-gen model traded only on secondhand markets.
'God. Feel that hefty weight.'
Like holding a dumbbell.
Worth it, though.
Samsung Electronics' Space Note is huge compared to regular smartphones.
Before foldables, they just made the base size massive.
Brute force, but I recall good market reception.
'Something's off.'
These relics from old gen.
Scattered around the bed.
An absurd sight.
Rarity aside, the build quality.
Each item looks time-traveled from the past.
'Not some movie set.'
The Truman Show for real?
That damn manager lost in madness again?
Kidnapped me while I slept.
Or gone insane wanting to get fired.
'...Nah.'
Honestly.
I have no rational appeal now.
Fat uncle with diabetes—who'd want this?
But that's changed.
My current body.
Not imagination—that floating lightness.
"Hm... Oh?"
Investor.
To survive a world shifting by the second, you need precise, rapid judgment shifts.
Even if right a second ago, if wrong now, change your mind.
From that angle.
'Feels like regression?'
One conclusion.
Body state can't be faked.
Too perfect.
Beer gut nearing 120kg—gone.
60kg vanished in a blink.
No wonder the lightness.
Even spread across the body, the weight loss hits hard.
Like dropping a sack of rice.
'Situation grasped.'
Where I am now.
The room I rented during university.
Moved once, so post-discharge.
And the reason.
No random luck like this.
The gods watched over me.
'Regret I couldn't devour America, huh.'
So they gave this opportunity.
Normies might panic.
Dream-like.
Stock market has them often.
Top stocks dumped at bargain prices.
'Most normies don't notice.'
'Wasn't that the price?'
Then later, 'Shoulda bought when low~' nonsense.
Opportunities abound.
Key is seizing them.
Smart investors recognize and bet big.
Creak! Creak!
I open the window.
Outside.
"Eugh..."
Sunlight blinds me.
Dizzying thought flashes.
100th floor building.
No acrophobia needed—looking down terrifies.
Lose balance, no ordinary end.
Ten seconds free-falling.
'Sparrow flying by.'
No 100th floor—ground visible.
Towering pine over green field.
Sparrow on branch.
Startled by me, flies off.
Free wingbeats.
Roasted, a delicacy.
'Tiny thing.'
Insane exercise volume.
Meat so chewy-tender.
One issue.
Extinction.
Gone.
Climate change decimates Korean sparrows.
Tragic loss.
Bird that helps humans and tastes great—vanished.
'Can eat sparrows again. Overwhelmed.'
Sigh.
Back to the past.
Benefits abound.
Like that sparrow, fly free.
Possible.
But not easy—must recognize.
'Not lack of money or skill.'
One-trillion-dollar fund.
Scale unyielding even on Wall Street.
Built solely by my power.
Done once, twice is doable.
'Problem is crumbling twice.'
Unbowed, still.
Titans dozens of times bigger swarm.
Fought with tricks.
Decent results.
'Can't solo.'
Overwhelming.
As assets grow, management difficulty exponentials.
Same in past life.
Fast early growth.
Drip, drop!
Slows inevitably.
Like this old phone I'm tapping, Space Note.
'Boosted hardware performance.'
Worked initially.
Samsung: performance; Apple: emotion image.
Post-Space S10, reversed.
Even performance—iPhone ahead.
'GOS fiasco aside.'
Root cause.
Software optimization.
Can't extract 100% hardware.
When performance middling, muddled through.
High-end: limits, overheating.
Same for funds.
More capital, new issues emerge.
Bam!
'Think I don't know that crap.'
Not billions or trillions.
Tens, hundreds of trillions—how to find reliable people?
One slip, beautiful plans crumble.
That was toughest.
'Even earning via future info.'
Regression fact.
Many angles to exploit—obvious as stock investor.
Still, same end.
No management skill, pig with pearl necklace.
Fattened pig's fate: slaughter.
'Must fix that.'
Not easy.
But not all bad.
Regression: massive edge.
Many uses.
Right here around me.
Thud!
Grab tossed Space Phone.
Durability insane.
Powers on fine.
No scratches on screen.
'Know the magic change this Space Phone brings.'
Current era.
Exactly when unknown, but my 20s for sure.
At least 20 years back.
Exploit history and events freely.
'My skill suffices.'
Change the world.
In unforeseen ways.
Prepare countermeasures.
Unexpected chances may arise.
Drip, drop!
For that, check date first.
Aids concrete planning.
'Huh?'
So I turn on smartphone.
Date check easy.
Problem: attached news feed.
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