The Return of the Ruined Chaebol's Third-Generation Heir - Chapter 5

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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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The Regression of a Third-Generation Chaebol Heir — Chapter 005
The following day, during lunch.
The noisy shuffle of students heading to the cafeteria filled the hallway.
I pushed against the current, moving in the opposite direction.
My destination, naturally, was the Annex 3rd Floor — the Stock Investment Club.
‘She’ll be there.’
It was obvious without even looking.
Rattle—
I slid the door open, and the whirring of an old computer fan greeted me.
Just as I’d expected.
Han Jae-yi had her face practically buried in the monitor, like she was about to be swallowed whole by the screen.
“Figured as much.”
I muttered quietly as I approached, but she didn’t notice me at all.
The sound of mouse clicks continued — brisk at first, then edging toward frantic.
On the screen, a tangle of charts and an order book blinked and shifted.
“Hmm. Doing some Simulated Trading, I see.”
“Oh my God!”
The moment she heard my voice, Han Jae-yi jolted in her seat and shoved her chair back.
The chair let out a sharp screech as she clutched her chest and shot me a glare.
“Are you kidding me?! You scared me half to death — make some noise when you walk!”
“I did knock. You were just too focused to hear it.”
“……You didn’t make a sound.”
She cleared her throat once and smoothed down her disheveled bangs.
“It’s lunch. Why aren’t you eating? First and second years get through the cafeteria line fast, don’t they?”
“I already ate. What about you? You really should keep your strength up — you’re a third-year.”
“Has it really gotten that late……”
Only then did Han Jae-yi glance at the clock on the wall, and she clicked her tongue.
“Didn’t even realize I was hungry. Oh well — skipping one meal won’t kill me.”
She brushed it off and turned her eyes back to the monitor.
On the screen, red and blue candlesticks danced in restless patterns.
“Do you do Simulated Trading often?”
“Yeah, every day.”
Han Jae-yi scrolled down with her mouse, answering without inflection.
“Every day the market’s open. I can’t afford to lose my feel for it.”
“Then why not trade for real? If you’re doing Simulated Trading, you must already have a brokerage account.”
Her hand on the mouse went still.
“That’s……”
Han Jae-yi let the sentence die. She kept her eyes on the monitor and couldn’t bring herself to turn toward me.
In that small silence, it hit me — I’d stepped somewhere I shouldn’t have.
‘I shouldn’t have asked that.’
A memory from my past life surfaced.
An interview she’d given to a financial weekly magazine during her years of meteoric success.
[Han Jae-yi, CEO — the living myth of a self-made rise.]
[In high school, she had no money, so she could only trade with her eyes… After entering university, she paid her own tuition through part-time work, and the 200,000 won left over was where it all began.]
Han Jae-yi had grown up poor. For her, the stock market wasn’t a tool to grow wealth — it was a matter of survival, where losing wasn’t an option.
That was why she hadn’t dared to leap into real trading, settling instead for these virtual numbers on a screen.
“……I’m not ready yet.”
The answer finally came, but it sounded more like an excuse than anything else.
The air had grown heavy. I opened my mouth quickly to change the subject.
“The college entrance exam is coming up soon. Aren’t you studying?”
Han Jae-yi narrowed her eyes and gave me a sideways look.
“Yah, why do you sound like some grumpy old man? You think studying for the entrance exam is the only kind of studying there is?”
“A student’s first duty is academics.”
“This is all part of the strategy. Building up credentials.”
She jerked her chin toward the monitor.
“These days, if you want to get into a good university, your school records need to show something. If you’re aiming for economics or business, having at least one competition award is basically mandatory. When you’re trying to fill out that application, you take every line you can get.”
Credentials, huh…… through stocks?
“People actually look kindly on that?”
“Hm?”
“Adults have a pretty set view on this, don’t they? The moment they hear a high schooler’s into stocks, they’ll assume you’ve fallen into some kind of gambling addiction.”
I wasn’t wrong.
The wounds from the dot-com crash hadn’t fully healed yet. It was an era when most people believed the stock market was the fastest road to ruining a family.
I’d even heard that the teachers at this school weren’t particularly fond of this club.
“……That’s not entirely wrong.”
Han Jae-yi didn’t deny it. She knew those cold stares better than anyone.
“Still, having it is better than not. And I heard the senior who founded this club got into Yeonhee University’s business program. She pushed through on the strength of a Simulated Trading competition award too. There’s a precedent, so it’s worth a shot.”
“That does deserve credit.”
I turned my head and pointed to a single sheet of A4 paper hanging somewhat forlornly on the club room wall.
[15th Mirae Securities National High School Simulated Trading Competition]
“So are you planning to enter that competition?”
I kept my voice deliberately light as I pointed at the poster.
Han Jae-yi’s gaze followed my finger to the wall.
“Huh? Ah……”
Her expression turned a little bitter, and she shook her head.
“We can’t enter.”
“Why not? If it’s sponsored by a securities firm, the prize money should be decent.”
“Look at the rules. Team entry is mandatory. Minimum three members.”
She let out a long sigh.
“We’ve entered smaller competitions before. Dragging along kids who didn’t even want to be there. But, as you’ve seen for yourself……”
Yeah. The club’s a mess.
“The only ones with any drive left are me and Min-jae. If we enter that big competition and fail again, Min-jae might lose what little interest he still has in the club……”
“I’m here too.”
I cut in without missing a beat.
“……What?”
“I’m here. With me, that’s exactly three people.”
Han Jae-yi stared at me like I’d said something absurd.
“You, Seon-woo? You’ve been a member for exactly one day. What do you know?”
“Plenty.”
“You know stocks?”
“I do. I even hold a small Equity Stake in Seonjin Group.”
At my joke, Han Jae-yi let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
“No, no…… not that kind of stock. I’m talking about Trading. Reading charts, tearing through Financial Statements, timing your buys and sells. You think that’s some kind of game?”
“That’s what I mean. I know Trading too.”
I gave a small shrug.
Twenty years in my past life.
How many hostile Merger & Acquisition attacks had I fended off during that hellish stretch of time?
I’d played mind games against market manipulators just to hold on to our defensive stake.
Stocks? I knew them well enough to be sick of them.
On top of that, I’d come from the future — I couldn’t remember exactly which stocks would surge during this specific period, but I had enough memories of reading old news and thinking, ‘Right, this was a good one back then.’
“I can handle the basics. I’ll pull my weight, so don’t worry.”
“That confidence — you really are a chaebol kid.”
Han Jae-yi still looked unconvinced, but I drove the point home.
“Let’s enter. I need the money.”
I tapped the bottom of the poster on the wall.
[Winner’s Prize: 3,000,000 won scholarship and a full set of the latest Computer equipment]
“First prize is three million won. Split three ways, that’s a million each. Plus they throw in a computer. Let’s win that and finally replace this ancient machine — the fan noise alone kills my concentration.”
“……Hey.”
Han Jae-yi opened her mouth with an expression caught somewhere between disbelief and exasperation.
“You need money? A third-generation heir of Seonjin Group is entering a competition because he can’t scrape together a million won?”
Well, I do have money. But I need this club to give me cover for what I’m about to do.
“Yes, I’m broke. Being from a wealthy family doesn’t mean you walk around with cash stuffed in your pockets.”
I answered shamelessly, holding her gaze without flinching.
Honestly, it wasn’t entirely a lie — right now, my account held little more than allowance money.
“Besides…… don’t you need it too?”
“I……”
Her lips parted slightly.
For someone who couldn’t trade for real because she had no money, a million-won scholarship wasn’t just a prize. It was the Seed Money she’d been longing for.
“Look, let’s just enter. If we don’t place, we don’t place.”
This Simulated Trading competition mattered.
It was the chance to show Han Jae-yi what I could do — and the justification for keeping her future on a different path.
And the justification for me to keep investing in stocks going forward.
Everything hinged on it.
“Fine…… let me talk to Min-jae first.”
“Perfect. Then consider it decided — see you both after school.”
I sealed the matter then and there, stepped out of the club room, and headed back to the classroom.

* * *
After school.
The moment homeroom ended, the three of us gathered in the club room again.
Three people squeezed around a small table gave the room a surprisingly mission-briefing sort of feel.
Han Jae-yi sat with her arms crossed, looking at Min-jae.
“Min-jae, don’t you have a cram school today?”
“Ah, it starts at six, so…… I can be a little late today. Or skip the whole thing, honestly.”
“Bold of you, for a second-year. Won’t your mom have something to say about that?”
“It’s fine. If you and Seon-woo are doing this, I’m not going to be the one who sits it out.”
Min-jae declared this with the gravity of someone making a solemn vow, and Han Jae-yi shook her head like there was no helping him.
Her gaze drifted naturally over to me.
“An hour will be enough.”
I answered before she could ask.
Both of them watched me with doubtful expressions, but I tilted my head toward the whiteboard.
“Go ahead. The explanation.”
At my nudge, Han Jae-yi exhaled a deep sigh.
She had the look of an older sister grudgingly playing along with her clueless younger siblings.
She picked up a board marker and stepped in front of the whiteboard.
“Alright. I’ll explain. Listen carefully.”
Squeak, squeak. She began writing across the board.
“The competition is the 15th Mirae Securities National High School Simulated Trading Competition. Among youth Simulated Trading events, it’s the most prestigious one out there. Placing here means a solid line on your school records.”
Han Jae-yi wrote the number 10,000,000 in large figures.
“The basic rules are simple. Each team gets a virtual Seed Money of ten million won. You buy and sell stocks over the course of a month, and the team with the highest Return Rate at the end wins.”
“What about the stock prices?”
“They follow real market prices. Think of it as moving exactly like the actual market.”
Han Jae-yi tapped the board and looked between us.
“You’re both sure about this? If you’re just going to mess around, back out now.”
Min-jae nodded vigorously.
“If you and Seon-woo are in, I’m in. No question.”
“……At least your attitude’s solid.”
Her eyes landed on me again. I shrugged.
“I told you at lunch. I need the money.”
“Haa……”
She sighed again at my utter lack of a serious answer.
But she didn’t look displeased.
After struggling alone for so long, even this — the noise, the company — probably felt better than she’d let on.
“Alright. I’ll get us registered. We can figure out a team name later.”
“What’s the strategy?”
At my question, Han Jae-yi’s expression turned serious.
“The competition runs from September 1st through the end of the month — exactly one month. It’s a short window. Most teams that enter these things go all-in on Short-term Trading. They chase Surging Stocks and Thematic Stocks, and if they’re lucky, they crack the top rankings — if not, they blow up completely.”
She drew a graph on the board — a curve that rose gently and steadily upward.
“But we’re going a different way. I don’t touch high-volatility Speculative Stocks. I’ll build the portfolio around fundamentals-backed Blue-chip Stocks. The goal isn’t a flashy windfall — it’s trading without losing. We defend to keep losses under five percent while squeezing out just a little more than the market average.”
I leaned back with my arms folded and gave a slow nod.
In a short-term competition, winning mattered — but so did not losing.
All that Simulated Trading she’d done had clearly given her a solid methodology.
‘As expected.’
Her style had been set this early.
She was someone who understood the true weight of money.
Han Jae-yi saw the stock market not as gambling, but as a precise instrument for building capital.
That very quality was probably what allowed her to manage trillions later in life without ever going under.
‘Good style.’
But.
‘Not for right now.’
This was a one-month sprint.
And the competition had thousands of entrants.
Playing it safe couldn’t win first place. To come out on top, you sometimes had to do the kind of reckless thing that would make others think you’d lost your mind.
And that recklessness was something only I could afford — because I knew the future.
“I’m fully on board. Your style is impressive.”
“……Huh?”
Han Jae-yi had clearly braced for pushback, and my agreement caught her off guard.
“Risk Management. The foundation of investing. There’s a lot to learn from you.”
“Wh — what? So you do know something after all.”
“So how many stocks are you thinking for the portfolio?”
“Hmm…… diversification is the principle, so maybe five?”
I pretended to think it over for a moment, then spoke.
“Let’s make it six.”
“Six? I mean, adding one more isn’t a big deal, but——”
“In exchange, give that extra slot to me.”
Han Jae-yi’s hand stopped at my words.
“What did you say?”
“I’m saying — whatever happens — one slot stays mine to call. I buy when I say buy, and sell when I say sell.”
Han Jae-yi’s brow knitted sharply.
“Kang Seon-woo. Our team strategy is stability. What makes you think I’d hand you a slot? You bring in some garbage Speculative Stock and you’ll wreck the whole portfolio.”
“It won’t get wrecked. That one pick will outperform the other five combined.”
“Ha, seriously.”
Han Jae-yi set the marker down with quiet exasperation.
“You need to give me a reason before I’ll agree to anything. Did you really think I’d just say ‘yes, of course, whatever you’d like’ if you asked out of nowhere?”
It was a fair reaction.
I needed to be convincing.
Why that pick of mine — not a safe Blue-chip Stock, but whatever I was about to name — was the one that had to be in the portfolio.
I rose from my seat and walked slowly to the front of the whiteboard.
“Fair enough. Let me explain.”

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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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