Golden Spoon Investment Portfolio - Chapter 49

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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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49. There’s no such thing! Sell it quickly!

As everyone struggled to hide their bewilderment, Choi Ho-geun opened his mouth, gauging my reaction.

“This is certainly an opportunity for low-price buying. However, since we don’t know how far the stock price will fall, wouldn’t it be better to observe the situation for a moment and then buy at an appropriate timing?”

The other team members seemed to share the same thought, nodding in agreement with Choi Ho-geun’s opinion.

“You said something similar when we sold the stocks this time.”
“….”

At my words, Choi Ho-geun found himself at a loss, unable to offer any rebuttal.
The mere thought of what the situation would be now if he had accepted the opinion and delayed the sale or attempted to sell in installments made him dizzy.
Leaning back against the plush sofa, I calmly addressed the gathered team members.

“What do you think is the reason investors are rushing to dump their stocks?”
“Surely it’s the fear of a stock market crash due to the sudden implementation of the Real-Name Financial System.”

Building on Choi Ho-geun’s response, Jung Hwan-yeop added his thoughts.

“The major players who have been investing through borrowed names and anonymous accounts will inevitably rush to sell their holdings to avoid exposure of their assets. So other investors will also try to avoid the incoming downpour first.”

Even the government, while reviewing the implementation of the Real-Name Financial System, had been most concerned about the financial chaos that would result from the massive capital flight of wealthy individuals reluctant to expose their assets.
Just looking at the phone bells ringing loudly outside right now, one could gauge how anxious the investors were.
To mitigate the shock somewhat, the government had even delayed the market opening by half a day, but it didn’t seem to be having much effect.

“As anxiety runs high, panic selling will pour in when the market opens, but the panic won’t last long.”
“Are you saying it will end as a short-term correction?”

At Choi Ho-geun’s question, I nodded without the slightest hesitation.

“Yes.”

Choi Ho-geun cautiously offered a rebuttal, as if finding it difficult to accept.

“But with sell orders pouring in before the opening and the Trading Floor packed with customers wanting to sell stocks, won’t it be difficult for the chaos to settle easily?”

Under Choi Ho-geun’s steady gaze, Seok-won spoke with unhurried confidence.

“Surely the Blue House wouldn’t push forward something this massive without preparing countermeasures, would it?”
“….”
“They’ve explicitly stated that all anonymous accounts are immediately prohibited from withdrawals without identity verification, and that the National Tax Service will be automatically notified of any withdrawals exceeding thirty million won from financial institutions, with authority to investigate fund sources.”

Choi Ho-geun and his team members carefully examined each detail of the presidential order executed simultaneously with the special address.
Only then did they realize what they’d missed while fixated on the massive mountain that was the Real-Name Financial System, and they gasped in recognition.

“Now that you mention it, these supplementary measures would prevent underground funds from escaping all at once.”

Seok-won’s lips curved slightly upward, as if confirming he’d hit the mark.

“Nothing’s perfect, so there will be money leaking through the cracks, but overall, it won’t be much.”

With the government shining such a bright light and watching so closely, anyone foolish enough to move money around risked being made an example of with harsh punishment.

“And the government won’t want the stock market to collapse either. They’ll roll out multiple sweeteners to stabilize the market.”
“…!”
“For instance, they might increase foreign investment limits and credit loan quotas, or permit securities companies to borrow foreign currency.”

Indeed, the government announced those very measures as stock market stabilization policies days later.
Choi Ho-geun’s eyes sparkled as he spoke.

“With those carrots in place, we could definitely absorb some of the shock.”
“And once the first day’s chaos settles and investors carefully examine the details, realizing there won’t be the massive capital flight they feared—what do you think happens then?”

Imagining what would follow, Choi Ho-geun swallowed hard without realizing it.
The other team members, too, shed their worries and wore expressions of anticipation.

“The stock market, compressed like a spring, will bounce back sharply and soar even higher than its previous peak.”

The deeper the stock price decline, the stronger the rebound buying pressure—it was entirely plausible.
Watching Choi Ho-geun’s excitement, Seok-won continued.

“Missing a chance like this through hesitation would be the greatest regret imaginable, wouldn’t it?”
“You’re absolutely right.”

Choi Ho-geun answered immediately.
He swept his gaze across each team member’s face in turn, his eyes sharpening with intensity.

“From this moment until the situation concludes, we operate under emergency protocol.”

Choi Ho-geun and his team members, sitting with rigid posture, listened intently to every word.

“Monitor the market, and the moment I give the signal, sweep up your entire allocated volume in one go.”
“Understood.”

Until now, our restraint had been a calculated wait for the perfect opportunity.
Realizing this truth, the team members answered in unison, their faces taut with tension.
Seok-won continued the meeting for some time afterward, issuing specific instructions on which stocks to purchase and in what quantities.
After the meeting ended, Choi Ho-geun and his team members returned to their desks, observing other team staff still frantically fielding incessant phone calls and attending to clients.

“Manager.”
“What is it?”
“About our parachute hire. Is it really true he just graduated from university with no actual field experience?”

Jung Hwan-yeop whispered, casting a sidelong glance at Seok-won’s closed office door.

“Why are you suddenly curious about that?”
“Well, listening to him speak, I just can’t believe he’s some inexperienced rookie.”
“That’s what I’m saying. His insight into the market and his decisiveness—he moves like a seasoned veteran who’s been grinding in this business for decades.”

Yu Seok-hyun chimed in, shaking his head in amazement.
Meanwhile, Hong Jae-hee’s face flushed slightly as she pondered something.

“The manager was incredibly impressive during that meeting, wasn’t he?”
“Jae-hee, were you not listening to what the manager said and just staring at his face?”
“That’s exactly what I mean—he had such commanding presence.”

Choi Ho-geun was equally astonished, though he kept it to himself.
He had always considered himself competent in this field, but Seok-won’s insight and audacity operated on a level beyond his comprehension.

“He’s the chairman’s son. Blood will tell.”

Choi Ho-geun’s eyes narrowed sharply as he fixed Jung Hwan-yeop with a piercing stare.

“More importantly, what’s with calling me ‘parachute’ instead of Team Lead? From now on, address me properly!”
“I apologize.”

Jung Hwan-yeop scratched the back of his head in contrition, acknowledging his mistake.
Choi Ho-geun, having delivered a sharp rebuke, made sure to caution the other two team members as well.

“You two also be careful not to make careless mistakes.”
“Understood.”
“I’ve been calling you Team Lead correctly from the start though….”

Hong Jae-hee muttered indignantly, but fell silent when Yu Seok-hyun nudged her.
Choi Ho-geun glanced once at the closed door of my office before turning his attention back to the team members.

“We have a lot of work ahead, so everyone stay sharp and execute the Team Lead’s instructions without error.”
“Yes, sir.”

* * *

That afternoon, at the Daeheung Securities Headquarters Trading Floor.
The clock had passed 2 p.m., and the vast trading floor was packed with people.
They were all customers driven by anxiety about how stock prices would move following the implementation of the Real-Name Financial System.
Tension hung thick in the air; some nervously lit cigarettes, but no one stopped them.
As the market failed to open despite the promised time having passed, murmuring voices grew increasingly louder.

“It’s past 2 o’clock—why aren’t we starting!”
“Is the ticker board even working properly!”
“They’re not closing the market today, are they?”
“Surely not.”
“Who knows. If the market’s about to crash, the government might just keep the doors shut entirely.”
“What on earth is happening!”
“Hey! Don’t just stand there—tell us what’s going on!”

As the atmosphere grew increasingly hostile, a man in a short-sleeved dress shirt and tie cupped his hand to his mouth and shouted loudly.

“Ladies and gentlemen! The market opening has been slightly delayed due to a minor issue. Trading will commence in five minutes, so please bear with us a little longer!”
“Hey! Are you sure about that?”
“You’re not going to change your story after this, are you!”

As the customers pressed him menacingly, the man broke into a cold sweat and answered hastily.

“Just a moment ago, the Securities Supervisory Board contacted us with exactly that!”

The Securities Supervisory Board was the agency that managed and supervised the issuance and distribution of securities before the Financial Supervisory Service was established.
The people who had been protesting roughly seemed to calm down somewhat at this news.
As the man wiped the sweat beading on his forehead with the back of his hand and took a breath, his subordinate standing beside him with a tense expression whispered in a low voice.

“Thank goodness they seem to have calmed down a bit now.”

Unlike his reassured subordinate, the man’s expression hardened into a rigid mask.

“Calmed down, sure. But the real crisis hasn’t even started yet.”
“Sir?”
“Look at them now—what do you think will happen when the market opens and the index plummets?”

Recalling the savage surge of people moments ago, as if they were about to riot at any second, the subordinate swallowed hard, his face drained of all color.
The man who had spoken remained equally tense, his rigid face fixed upon the crowd.
His gaze resembled that of someone watching a time bomb on the verge of detonation.

As the opening time drew ever closer, the Trading Floor grew thick with suffocating tension.
Even the smallest murmurs had ceased; everyone’s eyes were locked on the massive ticker board.
In the silence that filled the Trading Floor—like the calm before a storm—time crept forward with agonizing slowness.
Finally, when the clock on the wall struck 2:10 p.m., the market opened and numbers cascaded across the ticker board in a torrent of change.
Simultaneously, the Trading Floor erupted into chaos once more, and gasps of shock and despair poured from the lips of those staring intently at the board.

“Ahhh!”
“It’s completely ruined!”
“Everything’s dropping!”
“Damn it, I should have sold last week.”
“What is this?”

As stocks plummeted to their lower limits en masse, the ticker board turned entirely blue, and people fell into shock.
Gripped by the terror that their holdings might become worthless, they surged toward the desks, unleashing a torrent of sell orders.

“Don’t push!”
“I was here first!”
“Get out of the way!”
“Where do you think you’re cutting in?”

People rushed to sell their stocks first, and physical altercations broke out on the trading floor.
Securities Company employees and contract security guards hurried over to maintain order, but the chaos only intensified.

“Please form a line!”
“Stop pushing and move back!”

Among the commotion, a customer who had fortunately secured a spot at a desk thrust a sell order form at a Securities Company employee and demanded urgently.

“Sell all of this! Right now!”
“The price keeps dropping, so if you want to sell, you’ll have to dump it at the lower limit. Is that acceptable?”
“I don’t care—just sell it now!”

The middle-aged customer leaned across the desk, indifferent to the warning, and pressed harder.

“Understood.”

The Securities Company employee who took the order tapped at the computer, then his expression darkened with distress.

“There are no buy orders, so the transaction cannot be executed. I apologize, but….”
“What do you mean there aren’t any! Sell it now!”

The customer’s face contorted in rage as he shouted.
But no buy orders would materialize regardless, and there was nothing the Securities Company employee could do.
Nearby, a similar situation erupted when another customer lunged to grab a collar, prompting security and Securities Company staff to rush in and pull them apart in a scuffle.
The Trading Floor descended into absolute chaos—shouting and physical violence everywhere.
Gripped by panic and fear, buy orders vanished while desperate investors unleashed a torrent of sell orders, sending the stock index plummeting endlessly downward.
By day’s end, the Composite Stock Price Index had plunged 32.37 points—a 4.46% decline—closing at 693.57, shattering the 700 threshold.
Moreover, 917 stocks hit the lower limit, making it truly the worst day imaginable.

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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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