The Next Morning
I woke up with hollow eyes, having stared at the HTS screen all night long.
But strangely, I wasn't tired.
If anything, it felt like adrenaline was flooding through my veins.
I took a shower, brewed a cup of coffee, then sat back down in front of the computer and checked my account balance once more.
[Available Cash: 72,500,000 won]
A dreamlike number—
the aftermath of last night's frenzy.
Yet I was no longer intoxicated by it.
Seventy-two and a half million won.
To a thirty-one-year-old version of me, it was an amount I would never have touched in my lifetime.
But to the forty-nine-year-old me, it was nothing more than a starting line.
This money was merely the minimum ammunition required for the massive war still to come.
I closed the HTS window.
There was no reason to linger in the futures market anymore.
Of course, the bear market had only just begun.
Over the next several months, the index would continue to plummet.
But I knew something important.
The futures market was a battlefield of extreme volatility.
No matter how accurate my memories were, I couldn't predict every minor wave in a market that swung dozens of times a day.
One second of misjudgment there could wipe out everything.
A single mistake—and it would all be gone.
I didn't want to gamble like that anymore.
I wanted a bigger board.
A more certain one.
I opened a browser and typed two words into the search bar.
Real estate.
When the stock market turned into a sea of blood, people would scramble for safe assets.
But I knew—
The storm in the stock market would inevitably crash into the real estate market as well, just with a delay.
Especially in South Korea, where real estate had been bloated with bubbles until 2007.
That shock would be impossible to withstand.
I began combing through old real estate news articles.
[Gangnam Apartments Nearing 30 Million Won per Pyeong!]
['Bubble Seven' Regions Continue to Rise Despite Government Regulations…]
I smiled coldly as I read.
Celebrate while you can.
Your cheers will soon turn into screams.
If my memory was right, by 2008, apartment prices in those so-called "Bubble Seven" areas would be slashed in half.
This—
was my new battlefield.
I headed straight to the bank.
At the counter, I requested an exact withdrawal of 50 million won.
The teller—a young woman—looked at me oddly as I withdrew such a large amount.
Her eyes were filled not just with curiosity, but suspicion.
"Sir… this isn't related to phone fraud or anything, is it? There's been a lot of financial scams lately…"
"No. It's just money I need to use. Please give it to me in fifty cashier's checks of one million won each."
At my specific request, she stopped asking questions and handed over the money.
I shoved the thick bundle of crisp checks deep into my bag.
The remaining 22.5 million won stayed safely in my account—reserve ammunition for the next phase of the war.
Then I headed straight to Gangnam.
Gangnam in 2007.
A symbol of greed and ostentation.
I walked down streets lined with real estate agencies.
In their windows were price tags for apartments I could never afford in my entire life.
Eunma Apartments, Daechi-dong, 34 pyeong — 1.1 billion won
Hyundai Apartments, Apgujeong, 43 pyeong — 1.8 billion won
I let out a hollow laugh at the unreal numbers.
With what I had now, I couldn't even buy a single bathroom in those apartments.
But I wasn't intimidated.
If anything, my heart raced—
like a lion staring at prey.
I pushed open the door to one real estate office.
"Welcome. What kind of property are you looking for?"
A greasy-faced agent scanned me from head to toe.
His eyes clearly said,
Another broke kid here to window-shop.
I met his gaze and spoke calmly.
"I'm looking at apartments around here that are approaching reconstruction."
"Reconstruction?"
His eyes widened slightly.
"You must have some money, young man. But honestly, now's not a great time. With all the government regulations, there's barely any movement. Buy now and you'll just get stuck."
He clearly wanted me gone.
I didn't argue.
Instead, I pulled the bundle of checks from my bag and placed it quietly on the table.
"With this money, show me a gap investment property I can enter immediately."
At my blunt words—and the sight of those checks—his eyes lit up with naked greed.
His attitude flipped instantly.
The disdain vanished, replaced with reverence and flattery.
"Oh! Sir! I misjudged you completely! Please, have a seat!"
He scrambled to pull out a chair and rushed to make a cup of instant mix coffee.
"My goodness, a young man with this kind of nerve! Gap investment! You're no ordinary client!"
Watching his transformation, I smiled bitterly to myself.
This was the power of money.
It could make people arrogant—
or serve as the most reliable form of identification.
Ignoring his theatrics, I cut straight to the point.
"Find me the most solid property possible. Exactly within 50 million won."
He looked genuinely impressed.
"Understood, sir! Give me just a moment! I've worked in Gangnam real estate for over ten years! I'll mobilize all my connections to find you the best deal possible!"
I took a sip of the mix coffee he brought.
Sweet. Bitter.
Just like my life right now.
The agent began moving frantically.
He made call after call, scanned listings on his monitor, typing furiously.
Beads of sweat formed on his forehead.
I watched silently, arms crossed.
About ten minutes later—
He sat down in front of me with a stack of papers.
"I've got it, sir! The heavens are smiling on us!"
He slid over information for a small apartment in Daechi-dong.
"Take a look. Mido Apartments, 13 pyeong. Sale price is 620 million won, but the jeonse is currently at 570 million. That means the gap is exactly 50 million! With just that, this place is yours!"
He spoke excitedly.
"And the school district is unbeatable. Daechi Elementary, Daecheong Middle School, and the Daechi academy district—all within walking distance. Buy now, and when you have kids someday, you'll never regret it."
His explanation wasn't wrong.
Daechi-dong's Mido Apartments.
Even eighteen years later, it would still be famous for having one of the best school districts in Korea.
But I could tell he was hiding something.
I skimmed the documents and asked casually.
"When's the reconstruction scheduled?"
For a split second, panic flashed across his face.
"R-reconstruction? Ah… well, there's no concrete plan yet. But with such a great location, it'll happen someday, right? Haha."
He laughed awkwardly.
I scoffed internally.
Someday.
If my memory was correct, reconstruction here would stall for nearly twenty more years.
He was inflating the visible advantages to dump an uncertain property on me.
I placed the documents back on the table.
"This one's not for me."
"What? N-no, sir! There's nothing better than this—"
"I don't invest for school districts. Show me a place with certain reconstruction potential."
At my firm words, he fell silent.
He looked me over again.
This kid isn't normal, he was probably thinking.
"Well… sir. Honestly, in Gangnam, you can't get a truly solid reconstruction site with this amount. Then… how about this?"
He handed over another set of documents.
This time—Apgujeong.
"Apgujeong Hanyang Apartments. The reconstruction committee is already formed, so progress is fairly fast. The gap is a bit bigger—60 million—but I'll negotiate with the owner and bring it down to 50!"
I glanced at it once, then pushed it back without comment.
"This doesn't interest me either."
"W-what? Sir! The location is excellent—"
He was visibly flustered now.
Not school districts.
Not reconstruction speed.
He clearly had no idea what my criteria were.
Enjoying his confusion, I finally played my last card.
"Let's be honest, sir. I'm interested in Gaepo Jugong Complex 1, 13 pyeong.
With a jeonse tenant in place.
Do you have something that fits 50 million?"
The moment the words "Gaepo Jugong Complex 1" left my mouth, the agent's eyes shook like there'd been an earthquake.
"G-Gaepo-dong? Sir… why there…?"
His reaction was natural.
In 2007, Gaepo Jugong Apartments were treated like Gangnam's ugly duckling.
Old. Cramped. Nightmarish parking.
There was speculation about reconstruction, but the complex was so massive no one knew when it would ever begin.
Most investors believed Daechi or Apgujeong had far brighter futures.
"The people living there just suffer. Investment-wise, it's not very appealing. Honestly, what I showed you earlier—"
"No. That's the one I want."
I cut him off sharply.
"Or would you prefer I check another agency?"
He panicked and waved his hands.
"N-no! Of course not, sir! That's not what I meant—"
He scratched his head, then seemed to make up his mind and headed toward the storage room.
Moments later, he returned holding a dusty folder.
"…There is one."
He placed the file in front of me.
Gaepo Jugong Complex 1, 13 pyeong.
Sale price: 620 million won
Jeonse price: 570 million won
Gap: 50 million won
Exactly what I was looking for.
"The owner got transferred to the provinces suddenly, so it's listed about 20 million below market. It's old, no one wants it… I honestly forgot about it."
I reviewed the documents carefully.
Everything matched my memory.
I didn't hesitate.
"I'll take it."
"…Right now?"
"Yes. I'll send the provisional contract deposit immediately."
He stared at me, mouth agape.
He'd probably never seen anyone sign a real estate deal this quickly—or decisively.
I called the owner right there in the office.
Then I pulled five one-million-won checks from the bundle on the table and handed them over.
Everything moved swiftly.
As I left the office, the agent bowed at nearly ninety degrees.
"Sir! You're incredible! I've seen many people in this business, but never anyone like you! You're going to become someone big—without a doubt!"
I stepped out into the streets of Gangnam.
The provisional contract in my hand felt heavy.
I was now— the owner of an apartment in Gangnam.
Even if it was old, small, and burdened with a jeonse tenant—
It was the largest, most solid bridgehead of my second life.
And from this foothold—
I would soar even higher.