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CH511 | GSI
🕑 Added 2025-09-26 14:48:44 +0000 UTCJuly 20, 1999
“The market is closed!”
Noh Hee-won announced loudly as the trading session ended. At the same time, Jung Hwan-yeop, sitting in front of his monitors with his shirt sleeves rolled up, stretched both arms high above his head.
“Ugh-cha-cha! Another rewarding day comes to an end.”
Meanwhile, Yoo Seok-hyun, loosening his tie slightly and wearing a somewhat fatigued expression, lifted his mug and sipped the now-cold coffee.
“I thought today might be a slower day, but the KOSDAQ just broke another record, climbing over ten points.”
“Yeah, it’s hitting record highs for the fourth day in a row.”
Hong Jae-hee, her hair tied tightly with a ribbon, leaned in and joined their conversation.
“At this rate, I wonder if KOSDAQ might actually surpass 300 points by the end of the year.”
Looking at the KOSDAQ index displayed on the monitors, Jung Hwan-yeop shook his head in disbelief.
“It started at 76.12 at the beginning of the year. If it goes beyond 300, how many times would that be?”
“Almost a 300% increase,” Yoo Seok-hyun replied.
Jung Hwan-yeop let out a nervous chuckle.
“This is insane.”
“Considering the index has already jumped over 180%, it doesn’t seem entirely impossible,” Yoo Seok-hyun added.
Jung Hwan-yeop folded his arms and said,
“That’s exactly why I’m worried—it really could happen.”
“But if the index goes up, doesn’t that mean more profit? Isn’t that a good thing?” Noh Hee-won asked, holding a stack of copy paper in her hand.
Leaning back in his chair, Jung Hwan-yeop explained his concern.
“That’s true. But stock prices can’t rise indefinitely.”
“Of course.”
“Everything has to end eventually. But imagine if the index keeps breaking records every day and then suddenly stops dead as if someone slammed the brakes—what would you think?”
Noh Hee-won paused for a moment, considering the question, before responding.
“I think if it were me, I’d want to lock in profits once the upward trend stopped.”
“That makes sense. Sure, it’d be great if it keeps rising, but if the index turns and falls, you’d be losing money. Better to sell now and secure your gains.”
Nodding, Noh Hee-won listened as Jung Hwan-yeop continued, his tone unusually serious.
“The problem is, Miss Noh, you’re not the only one thinking that way—everyone else will have the same idea.”
“....!”
“When buying pressure is weak, and everyone starts selling to realise profits at the same time, the market will shake violently. Investors who were already nervous about the high index will panic at the thought of further drops, dumping their positions. At that moment, it’s like a dam bursting—boom! The index will plummet.”
Making a motion as if a bomb exploded, Jung Hwan-yeop emphasised the point, and Noh Hee-won’s expression hardened.
“Then shouldn’t we reduce our positions before the index crashes?”
Jung Hwan-yeop shrugged.
“That would be ideal, but no one knows whether the index will turn tomorrow or a month from now. If you exit too late, it’s bad, but if you bail out too early and watch everyone else make money while you sit idle, it’s a disqualification as a trader.”
At that moment, Choi Ho-geun quietly rose from his seat and spoke bluntly.
“Disqualification? No, you’d be clearing your desk and leaving that very day.”
“Hey, isn’t that a bit extreme, even if it’s true?”
“Then make sure you never have to clear your desk. That’s the point.”
“How am I supposed to control that?” Jung Hwan-yeop muttered.
Choi Ho-geun gave him a sidelong glance, then turned to address the team.
“As we just discussed, the index indeed keeps hitting record highs, and the mood is good. But the stock market is like a reed in the wind—you never know when the direction will suddenly change.”
With everyone’s attention on him, Choi Ho-geun continued.
“So enjoy the party, but don’t get so drunk that you lose awareness. Even while dancing, if you sense something off, you should be able to exit immediately. Always remember to stay near the exit while you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Understood.”
“Absolutely. I’ll keep that in mind.”
As the team responded with serious expressions, Jung Hwan-yeop sidled up with a mischievous grin.
“You’re looking quite sharp today, aren’t you?”
“Honestly, this kid!”
Chief Choi Ho-geun scowled fiercely at him, prompting Jung Hwan-yeop to quickly take a step back, putting some distance between them.
“Come on, what’s wrong with saying you look sharp?”
“You really don’t read the room at all,” Choi Ho-geun muttered, resting a hand on his forehead and letting out a long sigh.
“I honestly don’t know what karma I committed in my past life,” he added in frustration.
While Choi Ho-geun lamented, Jung Hwan-yeop smacked his lips and continued.
“Now that the KOSDAQ has hit another record high, breaking 200 points, I feel even more regretful.”
“Regretful about what?”
Jung Hwan-yeop replied to Choi’s curt question.
“Gold Bank, of course. I thought it would plateau for a while, but ever since they announced the creation of a cyber securities subsidiary last month, the stock has rallied again, hitting 27,450 won today. If I had known, I would’ve held on longer—it’s such a shame.”
Bluehole Venture Capital had sold its entire 55% stake—30 million shares of Gold Bank—at an average price of 14,500 won per share.
The shares had been sold 1,500 won above their original target price of 13,000 won per share.
Yet even after selling, the stock continued to surge with the KOSPI rally, nearly doubling in value. The lingering sense of regret was inevitable.
Choi, too, felt a pang every time he saw Gold Bank’s price, but kept his composure with the team.
“If you sold above your target, that’s what matters. If you hold a stock that has already been sold and rises further, your steps become entangled. Keep that in mind.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Understood.”
Sensing the subdued responses, Choi deliberately brightened his tone.
“It wasn’t exactly the very bottom, more like the shoulder of the dip, but either way, we bought low and made a huge profit, so there’s no reason to dwell on it. Besides, the chairman said he’s pleased and will be giving us a generous bonus, so everyone can look forward to that.”
“Wow!”
“Really?”
At the mention of a bonus, the team’s expressions finally brightened. Indeed, the fastest and most effective remedy was financial treatment.
“Let’s quickly settle today’s trades and head out for a shot of soju each.”
“I’ll treat today!”
Jung Hwan-yeop energetically raised his hand.
“The sun must have risen in the west today. What’s gotten into you?”
“Heh heh. Well, starting this month, my corporate card limit doubled,” he replied.
Choi Ho-geun nodded at Jung Hwan-yeop, who was chuckling.
“Then of course you should treat.”
After finishing the chatter, everyone hurried to wrap up the day’s trading, and Choi Ho-geun returned to his seat.
He found himself instinctively moving the mouse to pull up Gold Bank’s stock price on the monitor.
[Gold Bank: 27,450 (▲550)]
“Hmm.”
Though he tried to appear unfazed to the team, he couldn’t help feeling a pang every time he saw the soaring price of Gold Bank.
‘Looks like even the chairman can make a misstep with timing,’ he thought.
They had invested 1 billion won and earned 435 billion won—a staggering profit. But given Seok-won’s previously impeccable timing with buying and selling, a hint of regret was inevitable.
As he stared at the monitor with lingering disappointment, Yoo Seok-hyun suddenly exclaimed.
“Whoa!”
“What’s the matter?”
Choi Ho-geun asked, puzzled, as the rest of the team also looked up.
Yoo Seok-hyun widened his eyes and replied urgently.
“They just released an official notice from Gold Bank. They’ve announced that they’re canceling the acquisition of the small- to mid-sized brokerage and indefinitely postponing the plan to establish a cyber securities firm!”
“Is that for real?”
Choi Ho-geun shot up from his seat, eyes wide, as Yoo Seok-hyun nodded while remaining seated.
“Yes. Gold Bank announced it themselves.”
Jung Hwan-yeop quickly checked the official notice and let out a sharp breath.
“This is for real.”
Hong Jae-hee, equally shocked, asked with worried eyes,
“Doesn’t this mean trouble?”
The key reason Gold Bank’s stock had recently surged past 20,000 won per share after a brief pause was the announcement of the cyber securities firm. That piece of good news, which had been driving investor excitement and boosting the stock price, had now vanished, inevitably causing some negative impact.
“Why they postponed the cyber securities project needs to be checked in detail, but one thing’s for sure—this is bad news for the stock,” Choi Ho-geun muttered seriously.
“When the market opens tomorrow, Gold Bank’s stock is bound to turn weak,” he added.
“Is that even the worst-case scenario?”
Spinning his chair, Jung Hwan-yeop looked at Yoo Seok-hyun.
“I told you earlier, if you keep passing the bomb around, the moment it’s about to explode, everyone panics and runs. Maybe that bomb just went off now.”
Gold Bank had been the leading stock driving the KOSDAQ rally, skyrocketing over fiftyfold, so imagining what kind of nightmare might unfold if it plummeted in tomorrow’s trading sent chills down their spines.
While everyone’s faces were filled with worry, Hong Jae-hee cautiously spoke up.
“At least we already sold all our shares, so it doesn’t affect us. But right now, the brokerage trading teams and individual investors must be in chaos.”
“Talk about a thunderbolt from the blue. Just thinking about holding onto Gold Bank shares right now is terrifying,” Jung Hwan-yeop muttered.
“Yeah, they wouldn’t even be having a casual conversation like this. They must all be working late trying to figure out a plan,” Yoo Seok-hyun agreed.
Realising the irony, Jung Hwan-yeop scratched his head.
“Just a moment ago we were regretting selling too early, and now we’re relieved we got out in time. Life really does teach you that you can’t predict a thing.”
Choi Ho-geun wore the same complex expression, silently nodding in agreement.
“With Gold Bank’s notice, the market is definitely going to swing wildly tomorrow. Find out through every channel whether this is just a simple delay or if there’s an actual problem.”
“Yes!”
“Understood.”
The team, having almost been ready to leave just moments ago, quickly returned to their seats, picked up their phones, and began gathering information.
Choi Ho-geun, now back in his chair, also took out his phone to call a contact at the Korea Exchange. As he scrolled through the numbers, his gaze fell once more on the Gold Bank stock window still open on his monitor.
“I thought we sold too early and missed the timing… but that’s not the case.”
As the largest shareholder, holding 55% of Gold Bank’s shares, they would have had difficulty liquidating all their holdings in time if they had not followed Seok-won’s instructions to start selling at around 14,000 won per share.
“Otherwise, our own selling might have triggered a stock crash.”
Either scenario would have been disastrous for Bluehole Venture Capital.
“Looking back after the bomb exploded, that really was the optimal selling time.”
Choi Ho-geun couldn’t help but marvel once again at Seok-won’s foresight, as if he had anticipated the situation all along.
Even briefly, he regretted having assumed Seok-won might have erred earlier.
‘As expected, the Chairman’s judgment was spot on.’
Several times, Choi Ho-geun nodded to himself internally, feeling reassured that following Seok-won’s instructions had been the right decision.
