Golden Spoon Investment Portfolio - Chapter 18

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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18. Why is that person even here?

As the scooter came to a halt in front of Moby Dick, where the finals were being held, Park Seok-won dismounted from the back seat and removed his helmet.

“Ugh, why am I so nervous?”

Roy gazed through the expansive glass window at the crowded interior of the pub, and Park Seok-won let out a hollow laugh at the absurdity of it.

“I’m the one competing. Why are you nervous?”
“Don’t say that. We’ve climbed this far together as one since the preliminaries. Honestly, without me, you wouldn’t have even entered the tournament.”
“So what?”

Even as Roy cast a sidelong glance, Park Seok-won replied with an expression utterly unmoved.

“You submitted the entry form on your own in the first place. I wasn’t even interested in the tournament.”

Struck by the facts, Roy’s lips pouted.
He had no retort, since it was true that he’d dragged Park Seok-won into this.

“Anyway, it’s the finals, yet you’re acting like it’s nothing. That’s what’s strange.”
“Practice like it’s real, real like it’s practice—don’t you know that saying? Failing to control your mind and not performing at your full potential is something only amateurs do.”
“Ugh.”

Roy made a retching gesture and grimaced.

“Completely insufferable!”

As they bickered back and forth, Roy’s tension gradually dissolved, his shoulders relaxing.
Noticing this, Park Seok-won gestured toward the pub with his chin.

“Shall we go in then?”
“Yeah.”

Roy clenched his fists with fierce determination burning in his eyes.

“Let’s go in there and crush them all.”

At his antics, I let out a chuckle and replied.

“Okay. Just trust me.”

The moment we stepped inside after opening the pub door, the place was packed with people despite the late afternoon hour.
All the tables had been cleared away for the competition, and in the center of the empty space, two Street Fighter II arcade cabinets were positioned facing each other.
As I entered the pub with Roy, the people standing around with beers in hand immediately recognized me, and cheers erupted from all directions.

“Oh! He’s here.”
“I’ve got ten dollars riding on you. You better win!”
“Knock those MIT bastards down a peg!”
“Don’t drag it out—finish them in one straight shot!”

There was quite a variety: someone whistling shrilly with a finger in his mouth, another waving a handmade placard, and more.
The Harvard students who had come to watch the match stepped aside, patting my shoulders from both sides with enthusiastic encouragement, while from the opposite direction came boos and jeers.

“I thought you’d gotten scared and run away, but you actually showed up!”
“Hey, don’t cry when you Harvard nerds lose!”

The MIT students gave thumbs-down gestures and shouted, and the atmosphere in the pub instantly heated up.
Noticing that people seemed unusually excited, I leaned over and whispered to Roy beside me.

“Hey, are people actually betting money on this?”
“Of course. You didn’t know?”
“I wouldn’t be asking if I did.”
“People who know each other place personal bets, and the tournament organizers also handle official betting.”

No wonder people’s eyes had looked a bit glazed over since earlier!

“Is that even allowed? I thought this was supposed to be a friendly match for wholesome student exchange between Harvard and MIT, or something like that.”
“It’s just small stakes—what’s the harm?”

Roy shrugged.

“Besides, how else would we pay for the arcade machines and renting this place?”
“So you’re using the betting commissions to cover the costs?”
“Exactly.”

Roy grinned, his eyes narrowing with amusement.

“I’ve been making some decent money betting against you since the preliminaries.”
“You’re insane… Did you seriously place bets this time too?”
“Of course. I put down 500 dollars, so I absolutely have to win. You got that!”

Park Seok-won stared at Roy with an exasperated expression before shaking his head slowly.

“Ugh… Maybe I should just forfeit.”
“Hey! You can’t do that!”

Roy panicked at my muttered words and grabbed my sleeve.

“I’m joking.”

I lifted my head coolly and replied.
There was no way I could forfeit after making it all the way to the finals.

‘Besides, word has spread so much that even professors know about it.’

If I just turned back now, I’d be buried in reputation within Harvard University.

“Phew, I thought my heart was going to stop!”

Unaware of my true thoughts, Roy patted his chest and gave me a sidelong glance.

“Getting cold feet.”
“I’m not! It’s just that my money’s on the line!”

I let out a snort and walked forward when O’Brien, who was serving as both referee and host today, approached us with a friendly greeting.

“Welcome.”

I gave a light nod and casually glanced to the side.
That’s when I noticed a dark-haired man already seated in front of an arcade machine on the left.
He appeared to be around my age, with shaggy hair, black-framed glasses, and a typical engineering student’s checkered shirt.
When our eyes met, he stood up and approached me first.

“That’s Kenneth Rogoff, who you’re facing today. You saw the materials I gave you, right? Don’t let his appearance fool you—his skills are nothing to scoff at. Be careful.”

Roy quickly leaned in from beside me and whispered.
Kenneth Rogoff, who had approached right up to us, adjusted his glasses with one hand and extended his hand for a handshake first.

“You’re Seokwon Park, right? I’m Rogoff. Nice to meet you.”
“Seokwon is my given name and Park is my family name. In Korea, we put the family name first when addressing someone, so it’s Park Seok-won. Call me that.”

As I grasped his hand and spoke, Rogoff nodded in understanding right away.

“Ah, I see? Sorry about that.”
“You couldn’t have known. It’s fine.”

I met his gaze—a pair of innocent-looking brown eyes behind thick lenses.

“So you’re Rogoff. Let’s have a fun match.”
“Sure.”

Watching Rogoff’s slight smile, I muttered to myself.

‘At least he doesn’t seem like a rude bastard like that Rugby Team guy from before.’

Just then O’Brien called out to me, pulling me from my thoughts.

“You both know this, but the finals are best-of-three.”

O’Brien continued explaining the rules while watching the two of us nod slightly.

“And if you use cheap tactics, it’s a warning. Get two warnings and you forfeit, so don’t forget that.”

Since the game was so popular, all sorts of tricks and cheap tactics ran rampant.
One of them was spamming palm strikes, and when the opponent jumped forward to dodge, hitting them with an anti-air move like an uppercut to leave them helpless.
There was actually someone in the preliminaries who tried to beat me this way, but it was futile.

‘Considering how much money I’d spent at the arcade, of course I gave him a thorough lesson right away.’

O’Brien rolled up his sleeve to check his wristwatch, then spoke to both of us.

“It’s time, so we’re starting now. You both good with that?”
“Yeah.”

Following my response, Kenneth Rogoff nodded in agreement with a soft hum.

“Then let’s each head to our stations and get ready.”

I locked eyes with Kenneth Rogoff one last time before turning and settling into the arcade machine assigned to me.
I interlaced my fingers and loosened up my shoulders lightly, then selected Roy from among the various characters—the same choice I’d made throughout the tournament.
My opponent, meanwhile, had chosen something unconventional: not a mainstream character, but E. Honda, the Japanese sumo wrestler.
As spectators filled the arcade, forming a tight circle around us with keen interest etched across their faces, the finals match finally commenced.
When the Japanese bathhouse stage—complete with Mount Fuji tiles as its backdrop—loaded onto the screen, the crowd erupted in fervent cheers.

“Go for it!”
“Finish him in one hit!”

[Round 1]
[Fight!]

The moment the match began, my opponent closed the distance, and I immediately unleashed the Hadoken.

[Hadoken!]

As if he’d been waiting for it, E. Honda jumped forward to evade the projectile, then brought his palm down in a swift strike.
With Roy knocked back, E. Honda—displaying surprising agility for his massive frame—pressed the advantage relentlessly, executing his signature move: the Hundred Hand Slap.

[Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!]

In sync with Kenneth Rogoff’s rapid-fire button mashing—as if possessed by divine fury—E. Honda’s palms left multiple afterimages as they battered Roy.
My health bar drained steadily, but I wasn’t about to take the punishment lying down.
I created distance with a low kick, then launched Roy into the air to execute the Shun Goku Satsu.
But Kenneth Rogoff, reading my intentions instantly, manipulated the joystick with lightning speed, grabbing Roy a beat faster and hurling him to the ground.
Then, like a boxer driving his opponent into the corner ropes, he closed in mercilessly, leaving no room to escape, and unleashed the Hundred Hand Slap once more.

“Whoa!”
“That’s dangerous!”

As the crowd gasped in shock, my health bar bottomed out in an instant, and my character crumpled to the ground.

“Nooo!”

The MIT students, who had been holding their breath while watching the match, suddenly thrust their hands upward and erupted in cheers.
In contrast, the Harvard students behind Park Seok-won wore gloomy expressions, clicking their tongues and muttering amongst themselves.

“That guy is no joke.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So the finals really are different, huh.”

The shock hit even harder because Park Seok-won had climbed through the tournament with an unbroken winning streak.
Roy, his expression hardened, approached from behind and asked in a low, worried voice.

“Hey, you alright?”

But contrary to the concern around me, a smile played at my lips—one that suggested I was enjoying myself.

“Don’t worry about it. It stings a bit, but the outcome won’t change.”

My confident tone eased their minds somewhat, but since this was my first loss in the entire tournament, their concern lingered.

“You know if you lose one more time, it’s over, right? Do this properly!”
“Don’t worry.”
“Okay. I trust you.”

Roy squeezed my shoulder firmly as if channeling his strength into me, then stepped back.
Not long after, the next game began.

[Round 2]

“Don’t drag it out—finish it right now!”
“Go Go!”

Riding high from their first-game victory, the MIT students radiated intense energy.
The Harvard students refused to be outdone, unleashing jeers and roars to elevate the atmosphere.

“I let you win straight up out of pity! You didn’t even realize that?”
“Now I’ll show you my real skill. Keep your eyes wide open!”

Amidst the cacophony surrounding me, I heard nothing.
Entering a state of absolute focus, the moment the match began, my opponent jumped forward and unleashed a kick—but I didn’t miss the timing, my fingers moving swiftly across the joystick and buttons to execute the Rising Dragon Punch.

[Shoryuken!]

By the narrowest margin, Honda took the rising dragon punch and tumbled backward. The instant he rose to his feet, I seized the moment and unleashed a hadoken directly at him.

[Hadoken!]
Whoosh!

Honda crossed both arms in front of him to block the hadoken, but I didn’t miss the opening. Closing the distance, I immediately followed up with another shoryuken.
As Honda sprawled backward once more, I controlled Ryu to execute a low kick from a seated position, dealing additional damage.
Recognizing he couldn’t afford to be cornered further, Honda launched himself high from the corner and flipped over Ryu’s position.
Ryu reflexively spun his body, but Honda immediately attempted to jump back in the opposite direction.
He was trying to create chaos by moving back and forth, stealing my timing and preventing me from executing techniques.

‘Not a chance!’

I seized the moment Honda lifted off the ground, quickly launching myself into the air and executing a spinning hurricane kick.
With his body suspended in midair, Honda had no way to evade. He took the spinning roundhouse kick head-on and crashed hard to the ground.
His health bar plummeted, dropping below two-thirds in an instant.

“No, this can’t be!”

Kenneth Rogoff, sensing that one more hit would mean defeat, frantically moved his hands across the controller.
But as Honda struggled to rise, I unleashed a final hadoken, and with a cry of anguish, Honda was sent flying backward.

“Round 2 goes to Harvard!”
“Yeaaahhhhh!!”

As O’Brien announced Harvard’s victory in the second match, cheers erupted from the Harvard side.

“That’s it!”
“I knew it! He never fails to deliver!”
“Sweep the next round too!”

The MIT students, who had tasted victory only to see it slip into a tie, cheered for Kenneth Rogoff with disappointed expressions.

“It’s 1-1 now. We’re right back where we started.”
“Yeah! We just need to win the next round!”

Amidst the cacophony of overlapping cheers, I lifted my head absently and my gaze collided with Kenneth Rogoff’s across the arena.
When I flashed him a smile first, Kenneth Rogoff, as if disappointed, licked his lips and returned the expression with an amused grin.

“Alright, now for the final match!”

The moment O’Brien bellowed those words, the game restarted.
Since this was the final bout, the silence grew so profound that you could hear the sound of swallowing—both players and spectators alike focused entirely on the competition.
Having confirmed through two consecutive matches that neither opponent was to be underestimated, the two fighters refrained from hasty movements, instead maintaining distance while probing each other’s defenses.
But that restraint didn’t last long.
The moment I unleashed Roy’s signature Hadoken, Kenneth Rogoff surged forward with a jump as if he’d been waiting for exactly this.
I attempted to counter with a Shoryuken, but this time my opponent was faster.

Boom!

Roy’s palm strike sent me bouncing off the ground and crashing down.
As I scrambled to rise, Kenneth Rogoff immediately followed up with his finishing move—the Hundred Hand Slap—bearing down on me.

[Thwack thwack! Thwack thwack!]

From my seated position, I raised my arms to block, and the moment Kenneth Rogoff’s skill animation ended, I swept his legs out from under him without hesitation.
As he rose, I struck him again with a Shoryuken.
Neither side dominated unilaterally—the match remained fiercely competitive, and the spectators erupted in cheers, their palms slick with sweat as they watched intently.

“Yeah, attack more!”
“Ah, that was such a waste!”
“You should’ve dodged that!”

Both health bars depleted at nearly the same rate, making it impossible to predict who would emerge victorious.
Unlike the preliminary rounds, I now channeled my full concentration, my fingers dancing across the joystick and buttons as if possessed.
Finally managing to corner my opponent, I immediately attempted to deliver the finishing blow with a Dragon Spiral Kick.

[Atatat-togen!]

But Kenneth Rogoff, as if he’d anticipated this, ducked low and spun through the air, evading my aerial kick attack.
Then, closing the distance instantly, he grabbed me mid-landing and executed a throw technique.

Thud thud thud!

As Ryu’s health gauge depleted and he jumped backward to create distance, Honda advanced without hesitation, countering with a White Heat Lance.
Had the special move landed cleanly, it could have dealt a critical blow, but I remained composed in my defensive stance, minimizing the damage.
Still, after absorbing the relentless barrage of attacks, Ryu’s health gauge had dwindled to less than a third, putting me in a disadvantageous position.
Yet I didn’t hesitate—instead, I acted with bold aggression.
I seized the moment as the White Heat Lance ended, launching myself upward to unleash the Dragon Fist Whirlwind Kick.

“Wow!”
“So it’s offense over defense? That’s daring!”
“Yeah, that’s it!”

As the crowd gasped in admiration, Honda staggered from the technique, and just as he tried to rise, Ryu—now pressed close—unleashed the Rising Dragon Punch once more.

[Shoryuken!]

The technique connected perfectly, and Honda’s health gauge emptied completely. He hung suspended in the air for a moment before crashing to the ground with a heavy thud.
My victory was absolute.

“Waaahhh!!”

The spectators erupted in thunderous cheers that seemed to shake the establishment itself, amazed by the spectacular match.
Roy, who had been watching anxiously from the sidelines, threw both arms up in the air and rushed toward me.

“You won! You’re the champion!!”

Roy, celebrating as if he’d won the tournament himself, turned to the excited crowd and began chanting my name.
Though I’d entered without much expectation, now that I’d claimed the championship, I found myself swept up in the crowd’s fervor, feeling exhilarated and overwhelmed with emotion.
Rising to my feet, I walked across to Kenneth Rogoff and extended my hand first.

“That was fun.”
“I… never thought I’d lose.”

Kenneth Rogoff, wearing a slightly dejected expression, soon smiled again and grasped the hand I offered.

“I’m disappointed in the loss, but I enjoyed it too.”

The crowd around us applauded at the heartwarming display.
It was their tribute to both of us for delivering such a magnificent match, regardless of whether we represented MIT or Harvard University.
O’Brien approached with a microphone and made a loud announcement.

“The champion of this Street Fighter tournament is Harvard University!”
“Woooooo!”
“Harvard! Harvard!”

The moment O’Brien draped the gold medal around Seok-won’s neck, the pub erupted with thunderous cheers and applause so deafening it seemed the roof might lift clean off.
Seok-won fingered the medal hanging from his neck and leaned over to whisper something to Roy, who had sidled up beside him.

“Hey, this isn’t actually real gold, is it?”
“Of course not.”
“Tch….”

Seok-won smacked his lips with a disappointed expression, then suddenly remembered something and asked.

“By the way, you said you bet on me earlier, right?”
“Hehe. Yeah. Thanks to you, I made a nice haul.”

Roy nodded with a bright smile on his face.

“Okay then. We split it fifty-fifty.”
“Huh? What are you talking about!”
“You made that money because of me. You submitted my tournament registration without asking permission, so you owe me at least that much as compensation.”

At Seok-won’s shameless retort, Roy’s face scrunched up.

“Rich people always want more, I swear.”
“So are you giving it to me or not? You are, right?”
“Fine, fine! Fifty-fifty split. Done!”

While Roy grumbled with his lips pouting, I savored the joy of victory amid the flood of congratulations pouring in from all directions.
Among those approaching me were familiar faces, but also complete strangers, and even MIT students surrounded me, offering congratulations and extending their hands or patting my shoulder.

“Congratulations on the championship. That was really fun to watch.”

I was about to reflexively thank them when I caught sight of the Black Man who had just spoken, and my eyes widened.
The Black Man, with his lean frame and short hair, dressed in a white shirt layered with a gray knit sweater, flashed a bright smile revealing white teeth.
Seeing him extend one hand as if wanting to shake mine, I grasped it without thinking, swallowing my surprise.

‘What is he doing here?’

It was the appearance of a person I had never anticipated would be in this place.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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