The "all-in" was a gamble that would have made the old Kang-min vomit with anxiety. But as he watched the glowing red text of the Bio-Gen Tech ticker slowly transition into a pulsating, expectant gold, he felt nothing but a chilling calm.
Two days later, the "clerical error" was announced. The stock didn't just recover; it rocketed. By the time Kang-min hit the 'Sell' button, his meager 1.2 million won had swelled to nearly 6.5 million.
It wasn't enough to buy a building, but it was enough to buy a future.
Ding.
[System Level: 1]
[Exp: 15/100]
[Asset Growth detected. Skill 'Market intuition' duration increased by 5 minutes.]
"Still Level 1," Kang-min muttered, rubbing his eyes. "I need more than just lucky trades. I need an engine."
He knew exactly where that engine was. In his past life, a revolutionary trading algorithm had shattered the market in 2019. It was called 'Aegis.' Its creator was a nameless genius who had sold the patent for a pittance to Shin-Hwa Group before disappearing.
Kang-min grabbed his jacket. He didn't need to wait until 2019. He knew where she was now.
The PC Bang in Sillim-dong smelled of stale cigarette smoke and cheap caffeine. It was the graveyard shift, the time when the "dirt spoons" of Seoul tried to code their way out of poverty or game their way into oblivion.
Kang-min walked past rows of glowing monitors until he reached the very back. There, hunched over a keyboard with a speed that blurred her fingers, was a girl in an oversized black hoodie.
[Activating Dividend Sight...]
The world turned grayscale, except for her. While the other gamers were surrounded by gray or faint blue auras, the girl was enveloped in a blinding, radiant Gold.
Target: Han Seo-yoon (Age 24)
Status: Critical Exhaustion / Financial Despair
Intrinsic Value: 50,000,000,000 Won
Note: "The Architect of Aegis. Currently 400 won short for her next meal."
Kang-min didn't say a word. He walked to the vending machine, bought a warm can of coffee and a triangle kimbap, and set them down next to her mousepad.
Seo-yoon didn't look up. Her fingers kept flying. "I didn't order this."
"It's an investment," Kang-min said, pulling up a chair.
She stopped. Her eyes, sharp and weary, flicked toward him. "I don't do 'investments' from strangers in PC Bangs. Go away."
"The code on your screen... the logic gate on line 452 is inefficient," Kang-min said coolly. "If you bridge the neural network there, you'll cut the latency by 0.3 seconds. That's the difference between a high-frequency trade and a missed opportunity."
The silence that followed was heavy. Seo-yoon finally turned her chair fully. Her face was pale, but her eyes burned with a defensive fire. "Who are you? A corporate spy?"
"I'm the person who's going to stop you from selling your soul to Shin-Hwa Group for a few thousand dollars," Kang-min replied.
He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Your father's logistics company didn't go bankrupt because of bad luck, Seo-yoon. Director Choi squeezed the life out of it. And right now, you're building the very weapon he'll use to do it to others."
Seo-yoon flinched as if struck. Her family's ruin was a secret she guarded like a wound. "How do you know that?"
"Because I've seen the future where you lose," Kang-min said, standing up. "And I'm here to offer you a future where we win."
He placed a business card—blank except for his phone number—on the desk.
"I have 6 million won in my account. It's not much, but it's yours if you come to work for me tomorrow. We start at the bottom, Seo-yoon. But by the time we hit Level 10... we'll be the ones holding the umbrella while the rest of them drown."
He walked out into the Seoul rain, not looking back. He didn't have to.
[System Notification]
[Fate Linked: Han Seo-yoon.]
[Dividend Sight Level Up Imminent.]
Behind him, inside the dim PC Bang, Han Seo-yoon picked up the triangle kimbap with trembling hands.