There was no hangover from last night.
Maybe it was the pleasant buzz that still lingered—or the even more pleasant sense of anticipation—but I woke up at dawn without needing an alarm.
The hellish anxiety that had been crushing me for the past few days was completely gone.
In its place were excitement that made my heart itch and an absolute certainty about the future.
I took a shower, then hastily poured water over the cold leftover rice in the fridge and shoveled it down.
A single piece of leftover kimchi tasted better than last night's hanwoo.
8:50 a.m.
Like a general preparing for battle, I sat in front of the computer with a solemn mindset.
I launched the HTS and entered my password.
My account valuation was the same as yesterday.
13 million won.
But I knew.
In ten minutes, that number would swell once again—like magic.
I pulled up Daeyoung Tech's order book and held my breath, waiting for the market to open.
8:59:58… 59…
Ding!
9:00 a.m. sharp.
The moment the market opened, I doubted my eyes.
An unbelievable scene unfolded in the order book.
The sell side was empty.
Completely clean—without a single share for sale.
On the other hand, the buy side was stacking up red numbers like madness.
At the upper limit price of 545 won, buy orders piled up faster than the eye could track. Hundreds of thousands of shares. Millions. As if it were a black hole trying to swallow all the money in the world.
Jeomsang.
A state where the stock shoots straight to limit-up the moment the market opens, with not a single share traded.
No one wanted to sell. Everyone wanted to buy.
The ultimate dream of every shareholder.
"..."
I swallowed dryly.
It was different from the euphoria I'd felt yesterday at the PC café.
This was a cold, razor-sharp thrill crawling down my spine.
Yesterday had been the joy of a lucky gambler.
Today was the conviction of a prophet who knew the future.
I entered the Paxnet stock discussion board.
It was a battlefield.
The people who'd been cursing it as a "trash stock" just yesterday were nowhere to be found.
[Title: Hyungs, I sold at the opening price this morning… is this for real?]
[Content: I was happy selling at 425 won… now it's jeomsang. What… what do I do? Can I buy back in? Please…]
[Title: I've come on a pilgrimage. Where's the hyung who spread that rumor yesterday?!]
[Content: Thanks to you, I went full margin too. From today on, I'll call you Father. Father!!!]
[Title: Daeyoung Tech announces Apple supply contract!!!]
[Content: That rumor was real! From today, we're going for 10 consecutive limit-ups! No bagholders who missed it, right?]
[Title: Please… just one share… sell me just one share.]
[Content: I've placed a 100,000-share buy order at limit-up. Please let me ride. I'll never forget this kindness.]
I gazed down at the chaos of screams and ecstasy as if I were a god.
It felt strange knowing that just one day ago, those screams had been mine.
Yesterday, I'd been just another ant—crying and laughing along with them.
But today, I held their fate in my hands, sneering at their greed.
This was the privilege of someone who knew the future.
I wasn't even looking at the HTS anymore.
There was no need.
Daeyoung Tech's price wouldn't move even one won from 545 until the market closed today.
I stood up and headed to the kitchen.
From the cupboard, I took out a bag of coffee beans—something my thirty-one-year-old self had bought on a whim but barely touched because it felt too expensive.
Grinding the beans and pouring hot water over them felt like some kind of sacred ritual.
The fragrant aroma filled my tiny studio apartment.
Holding the warm mug, I stood by the window.
Outside, an ordinary day was unfolding.
People rushing to work. A mother holding her child's hand on the way to kindergarten.
Their world and the one unfolding inside my monitor existed in completely different dimensions.
Looking down at them, I felt—just a little—superior.
They wouldn't know.
That at this very moment, inside this cramped studio, a young man's entire life was being rewritten.
That was when it happened.
With a loud ringtone, my slide phone started buzzing.
Caller ID: Lee Jinwoo (Acorn).
I smirked and answered.
"Hello?"
"Ya! Park Cheolmin! Are you looking at the HTS right now?!"
Jinwoo's urgent, excited voice exploded the moment I picked up.
"Of course I am."
"This is insane! Totally insane! Ya, what is this?! Limit-up again! The moment it opened!"
"Jeomsang."
"Huh? What?"
"Jeomsang. It went straight to limit-up at the open, so there's no trading."
At my calm explanation, Jinwoo went silent.
"...How can you be so calm? Do you even know how much your money is growing right now?!"
"Yeah. I know."
"Ya, you seriously… be honest with me. You knew about this, didn't you? Huh?"
"Knew what?"
"No, something… you had information or something, right? Otherwise how does anyone act like this?"
His voice carried reverence—mixed with a hint of suspicion.
I brushed it off with a joke.
"I told you. I ride the spirit board."
"Ah, seriously! Stop joking! Ya, can I buy this too? Even now—can I follow you in?"
So it's come.
I stayed silent for a moment.
This was the greatest test for someone who knew the future.
A secret known only to me.
The moment I shared it, everything could go wrong.
Jinwoo was my friend—but I couldn't share my future.
"Don't buy."
I said firmly.
"What? Why?! You trying to eat it all yourself?"
"It's not that… it's already gone up too much. Getting in now is dangerous."
"You're not selling, but you're telling me not to buy? Does that make any sense?!"
Jinwoo's voice rose.
I understood how he felt.
But there was no helping it.
"Jinwoo-ya."
I spoke as seriously as I could.
"Listen to me. This was just… me being lucky. I don't want to drag you into a risky gamble too. If I ever find something really good later, I'll tell only you. I promise."
After a brief silence, Jinwoo let out a sigh.
"...Alright. If you're saying it like that, what can I do? Don't forget that promise."
"I won't."
We ended the call—slightly awkward now.
I took a sip of coffee, feeling a bitter aftertaste.
This was the fate of someone who had to walk backward through time alone.
The third day of the jeomsang rally.
And my Day of Judgment had arrived.
By the time the market closed today, I had to repay roughly 7 million won I'd borrowed on margin.
If I failed, all my shares would be forcibly liquidated at market price during tomorrow morning's opening auction.
Of course, even forced liquidation would still leave me with massive profits.
But I didn't want to leave behind the disgraceful mark of forced selling.
I wouldn't stain the first investment of my second life with that blemish.
I wanted to control everything—with my own hands.
9:00 a.m.
With the same mindset as yesterday, I opened the HTS.
And the same scene unfolded.
Three consecutive limit-ups.
Daeyoung Tech shot straight to limit-up the moment trading began.
625 won.
The buy orders were even larger than yesterday.
The market was now completely consumed by madness.
I checked the Paxnet discussion board again.
It was no different from a religious cult.
[Title: Daeyoung Tech to 10,000 won, let's gooooo!!!!!]
[Content: Anyone still not knowing who Apple is? Market cap isn't even 10 billion won—are you kidding me? Minimum 10x. Anyone selling below 10,000 is a traitor.]
[Title: Announcement to all believers of the Daeyoung Church]
[Content: Do not waver. We protect our stock ourselves. Not a single share for sale. Sell and go to hell. Hold and go to heaven.]
Watching their frenzy, I smiled coldly.
It's thanks to your greed that I'm making money.
I clicked the Account tab on the HTS.
My valuation had already surpassed 17 million won.
Excluding the initial 4.6 million won, I'd made over 12 million won in just three days.
It was time to repay the margin.
I opened the sell window.
But then—I hesitated.
Should I sell now?
If my memory was right, Daeyoung Tech would hit limit-up for several more days.
Just one more day—no, two—and my profits would balloon into the tens of millions.
Don't get greedy.
I warned myself.
The purpose of this investment wasn't to hit the jackpot with Daeyoung Tech.
It was to secure seed money for the coming crash.
That was my real objective.
I calculated rationally.
The number of shares needed to repay the 7 million won.
After punching numbers into the calculator, I entered 11,200 shares into the sell order window.
But they wouldn't sell.
In a jeomsang state, the buying pressure was overwhelming—my sell order had almost no chance of filling.
All I could do was place a limit-up sell order and wait.
As time passed, anxiety crept in.
What if not even a single share sold by market close?
Then tomorrow morning, forced liquidation.
I stared at the order book, swallowing dryly.
Time slipped away mercilessly.
Before I knew it, it was past 2 p.m.
I'd skipped lunch, glued to the monitor—my stomach empty, my eyes burning.
But I couldn't leave.
The order book remained unmoved.
Millions of shares on the buy side stood guard at the upper limit like an iron fortress.
My 11,200-share sell order looked like a grain of sand before that wall.
Damn it… is this how it ends?
I nervously chewed on my nails.
Forced liquidation wouldn't mean a loss.
The problem was control.
If my shares were dumped at market price tomorrow morning, I wouldn't be able to sell at the price I wanted.
The shock could even break the limit-up and trigger a crash.
I didn't want to entrust the first step of my second life to such uncertainty.
I wanted everything under my control.
2:30 p.m.
Only thirty minutes left until market close.
I was close to giving up.
That was when it happened.
Just for an instant—truly a fleeting moment.
A small number flickered in the ironclad sell column.
100 shares.
Someone had dumped 100 shares at market price.
They were swallowed instantly by the massive buy orders.
I nearly jumped out of my chair.
It's shaking.
Yes—slowly, it was shaking.
Day traders, scared ants—someone had begun throwing out shares.
I sat back down, placing my hand on the mouse.
My heart started pounding like crazy.
2:45 p.m.
Again—this time bigger.
A 1,000-share sell order appeared and vanished.
The buy side was still overwhelming, but I was certain.
Something big is coming.
I deleted the 11,200 shares in the sell window.
Then, without hesitation, I entered everything I had.
27,380 shares.
If I'm selling—then I'll sell it all.
I decided to exit this mad market one step ahead.
2:55 p.m.
Five minutes before market close.
That was when it finally happened.
An unbelievable number appeared on the sell side.
100,000 shares.
Someone had dumped a massive block—one hundred thousand shares—at market price.
In an instant, the iron fortress of buy orders collapsed, and the limit-up broke.
The price slid from 625 won to 600… then 580.
Now!
Holding my breath, I slammed the Market Sell button I'd prepared in advance.
Click.
[Your sell order has been successfully executed.]
That 0.1 second felt like eternity.
With trembling hands, I checked my account balance.
The name Daeyoung Tech was gone.
In its place was a number I'd never touched in my life.
A dreamlike number.
[Cash Balance: 16,428,000 won]
I stared at it, unable to speak for a long while.
All strength drained from my body as I sank back into my chair.
Outside the window, the sun was setting.
Watching the glowing sunset, I smiled quietly.
My long, long Day of Judgment had finally come to an end.