July 1, 2002, morning.
Ahead of the stock market's opening, a taut tension filled the brokerage trading floor in Yeouido.
There was deep anxiety over how the naval clash between the two Koreas in the West Sea on the 29th would affect the market.
Fortunately, there were no fatalities, but twenty of our servicemen had been injured. North Korea, which had lost a patrol boat and suffered significant casualties, brazenly claimed that South Korea had launched the first strike and spent the entire weekend hurling harsh accusations.
Of course, when the Ministry of National Defense released CCTV footage from one of our Chamsuri-class high-speed patrol boats, clearly showing a North Korean patrol boat firing an 85mm tank gun first, the blatant lie was quickly exposed.
With the military-wide emergency alert still in effect, tension persisted throughout the weekend, as North Korean authorities continued making inflammatory remarks—seemingly in an attempt to conceal their defeat in the clash.
This uneasy atmosphere, like walking on thin ice, carried over intact into the Monday stock market.
Individual investors who had crowded into the trading floor early in the morning stood in small groups, anxiously staring at the large electronic market board mounted on one wall.
Some investors paced restlessly back and forth between the market board and their terminals, unable to sit still, wondering whether any new developments had emerged in the meantime.
"They say the Seolbong ferry bound for Mount Geumgang left Sokcho this morning as scheduled, carrying five hundred tourists."
At the remark from a middle-aged man who had just checked the news on his terminal, a man in a short-sleeved shirt responded curtly.
"With a naval clash breaking out in the West Sea and inter-Korean relations deteriorating so fast, people still going on a Mount Geumgang tour at a time like this? They've got some nerve."
"Think about it carefully. If anything, the fact that the Mount Geumgang tour is continuing might mean there's a strong chance this situation won't escalate any further, don't you think?"
"Now that you put it that way… maybe."
The man in the short-sleeved shirt looked up at the large electronic market board in front of him and scratched his head irritably.
"Damn it. So what am I supposed to do—sell the stocks I'm holding, or just sit tight?"
The middle-aged man, too, wore a troubled expression as he held an order slip he had filled out in advance—just in case.
Some had already placed sell orders at the opening price, anticipating a plunge. But doing so would immediately lock in their losses. As a result, most of the people gathered on the trading floor hesitated like the two men, clutching their anxiety as they waited nervously for the market to open.
And then, in a stretch of time that seemed unusually sluggish that morning, the clock hand finally struck 9:00. The moment the market opened, the numbers on the previously frozen electronic board began changing rapidly.
"It's started!"
"H-Huh? What's this?!"
"No!"
A decline had seemed inevitable, but since there had been time over the weekend to absorb some of the shock, many had clung to a faint hope that the drop would not be too severe.
But the investors' hopes were mercilessly crushed the moment the market opened.
No sooner had trading begun than the entire electronic board turned a sea of blue, and nearly every stock—except for defense shares—plunged downward as if screaming.
"This can't be…."
The KOSPI broke below the 700 level in a single swoop, and the KOSDAQ collapsed past 60, plunging nearly 3 percent.
As stock prices tumbled at a terrifying speed, investors' faces turned ashen and panic set in.
Some even lost their senses and sank down onto the floor.
"Damn it!"
The middle-aged man's eyes shook violently as he watched hundreds of millions—thousands of millions—of won evaporate before his very eyes. Then, in a panic, he rushed toward the brokerage counter.
"This isn't the time to just stand around. I have to sell everything right now!"
"W-Wait, I'm coming too."
The man in the short-sleeved shirt hurried after him, clutching the order slip he had filled out in advance.
But the counter was already packed with people who had belatedly decided to sell.
Even those who had held onto their stocks until the very last moment, clinging to a faint hope, were terrified when they saw the market collapse so brutally at the opening bell and rushed in to dump their shares.
"Sell all of this at market price!"
"I was here first!"
"Stop pushing!"
"Move out of the way!"
In front of the shouting crowd, a female employee wiped cold sweat from her brow and spoke cautiously.
"If you sell now, your losses will be very large. Are you sure you want to proceed?"
"It doesn't matter—just sell everything at the current price! At this rate, my money's going to be cut in half!"
A middle-aged woman with permed hair screamed, her face half out of its senses.
All the phones on the trading floor rang noisily as if a fire alarm had gone off, and investors swarmed the counter, scrambling desperately to sell their shares even a little sooner before prices fell further.
It was like passengers on a sinking ship, struggling to escape before anyone else.
***
At the same time.
Unlike the panic-stricken market outside, the Bluehole Venture Capital Investment Division—recently upgraded in status, relocated to a larger office, and reinforced with additional staff—remained quiet.
No, it would be more accurate to say that the room was filled with a mixture of anticipation and dense tension, like the eerie calm just before a typhoon strikes.
Every employee in the office had their eyes fixed on Seok-won and Director Choi Ho-geun, who stood facing the large electronic market board mounted on one wall.
Tall and impeccably dressed in a perfectly tailored bespoke suit, his silver wristwatch subtly visible as he stood with his arms crossed, Seok-won looked like he had stepped straight out of a fashion magazine—outshining even a famous model.
Even Hong Jae-hee and Noh Hee-won, who were used to seeing him every day, occasionally found their gazes drawn to him. The newly hired female employees, needless to say, were completely captivated.
Meanwhile, Jung Hwan-yeop, who had recently been promoted to department head, along with the other male staff members, looked at him with respectful admiration, overwhelmed by the quiet charisma he exuded.
Seok-won stared expressionlessly at the electronic board, now entirely awash in blue, before finally opening his mouth.
"As expected, panic selling is pouring in."
Director Choi Ho-geun, standing beside him, quickly responded.
"Fortunately, the clash in the West Sea hasn't escalated further, but tensions between the two Koreas are still lingering. As you mentioned, they're probably thinking it's better to liquidate first and sit on cash while watching how things unfold."
"Even if it means taking a small loss, they'll see it as better than holding onto risk in a situation like this."
Seok-won smiled, revealing his white teeth.
"When investors are this frightened and start throwing away their stocks, it also becomes the perfect opportunity to buy quality shares at bargain prices."
At the glimpse of his charming smile, the female employees' faces flushed even deeper.
"How much capital have we prepared for purchases?"
"We've secured one trillion won for now, and if necessary, we can immediately bring in another trillion."
Even as he answered, Director Choi Ho-geun inwardly clicked his tongue at the staggering sum.
Considering that the combined daily trading volume of the KOSPI and KOSDAQ was just a little over two trillion won, this amount alone was enough to reverse the plunging market in an instant.
The wave of panic had spread rapidly after foreign investors began dumping their shares, and once institutions and individual investors joined in, throwing their stocks onto the market, the decline showed no signs of stopping, the losses widening without end.
"The KOSDAQ's decline has exceeded 3 percent!"
"The KOSPI is also down 33.71 points, currently at 698.11!"
Department Head Jung Hwan-yeop and Yoo Seok-hyun reported in quick succession.
Seok-won quietly observed the large electronic board, which vividly displayed the market's panic, then casually issued his instruction as if tossing it out in passing.
"Let's begin buying now."
The moment those words left his mouth, the silence that had hung over the office shattered.
"You heard him. Sweep up everything on the list we distributed earlier—buy it all at market price!"
As Director Choi Ho-geun loudly repeated Seok-won's order, the office transformed into a battlefield in an instant.
Including Department Head Jung Hwan-yeop, the staff—now expanded to twenty—simultaneously began pounding their keyboards or lifting their receivers to place buy orders.
"Buy 20,000 shares of ST Telecom at the current price!"
"127,000 won—buy 37,000 shares of Taepyeongyang!"
"Buy Samsung Electronics! 10,000 shares at 307,000—no, 306,000 won!"
"TG Petrochemical, 42,000 shares purchased!"
"Secure another 10,000 shares of Taepyeongyang!"
Since there was almost no buying interest in the market, orders placed by Bluehole Venture Capital were executed immediately.
As telephones rang incessantly and shouts erupted from every direction, the staff—who had switched into full combat mode in an instant—moved frantically. Meanwhile, Seok-won stood with his arms crossed, calmly watching the large electronic board mounted on the opposite wall.
Just moments earlier, the market had been in free fall, completely consumed by fear. But now, as if someone had suddenly slammed on the brakes, the plunge came to a halt.
For a brief moment, it seemed to hang there in a tense standoff—like two forces locked in a struggle—before the KOSPI and KOSDAQ indices gradually began climbing back up.
The massive capital Seok-won had poured in had succeeded in grabbing the market by the scruff of the neck and forcibly dragging it back from the brink of collapse.
"This is actually working."
"He's really moving the market."
"Are you kidding me? Is this for real?"
The Investment Division staff let out exclamations of amazement, their faces showing disbelief even at what they themselves had just accomplished.
Soon, their gazes shifted to Seok-won, who stood there with a faint smile, as if nothing extraordinary had happened.
In that brief moment when dozens of eyes shimmered with admiration and awe, Department Head Jung Hwan-yeop's voice lashed out like a whip.
"Stop staring and focus on the trades! Don't stop buying until the momentum has completely turned!"
"Yes, sir!"
Snapping back to their senses, the staff redoubled their efforts and swept up every available share with even greater intensity.
As Bluehole Venture Capital absorbed the flood of sell orders that had been pouring into the trading window and forced the market's free fall to reverse, individual investors—who had been panic-stricken and recklessly dumping their holdings—gradually stopped their fire sale and began buying again.
The pace at which the losses narrowed accelerated, and before long, the indices had recovered to flat territory.
Watching this, Director Choi Ho-geun let out a low chuckle.
"By now, the foreign investors who dumped their shares at the opening bell to drag the index down must be startled to see the market moving in a completely different direction from what they intended."
Seok-won, too, allowed a faint smile to form at the corners of his mouth.
"At this point, I don't think there's any need to keep watching. Report back to me with the final results later."
"Yes, sir. We'll wrap everything up cleanly. You can leave it to us."
Seok-won gave a small nod, then turned and left the office together with his executive secretary, Manager Han Ji-seong.
Watching Seok-won's back as he departed, Director Choi Ho-geun bowed deeply in respect.
***
Seoul, Yeouido — Nomura Securities Korea Branch.
"The KOSPI is down 4.6 percent."
At the report from Murasumi, who sat neatly groomed at a desk lined with multiple monitors, Koda Mineo, the head of trading at Nomura Securities' Korea branch, asked,
"What about the KOSDAQ?"
"It's plunging more than 3 percent, and sell orders are still pouring in."
Another trader seated nearby responded.
"Heh."
Koda Mineo let out a faint chuckle and lifted one corner of his mouth.
"I expected it to some extent, but this is too easy."
Murasumi spun his chair around to face him and replied,
"Indeed. Even considering the anxiety caused by the naval clash in the West Sea over the weekend, I didn't think the market would collapse in a heap from just a light push like this."
Koda Mineo tilted his chin upward and spoke with a mocking expression.
"With the stock market opened up after the IMF crisis, the foreign ownership ratio in Korea is quite high. More importantly, how could those frogs in a well—who've only ever operated within the narrow Korean market—possibly compete with us, who've honed our skills on the international stage in places like Hong Kong and Wall Street?"
"Haha. You're absolutely right."
Koda Mineo grew even more arrogant, snorting dismissively.
"For Korean institutions and retail investors—who are basically still greenhorns—it'll take another hundred years before they can catch up to us."
Murasumi chimed in with a sly expression, egging him on.
"Meanwhile, we can simply shake the index like this and pocket profits with ease."
"Exactly. There's nothing easier than this."
Koda Mineo exchanged a glance with him and smiled in satisfaction.
"Let it keep falling like this for now. Starting in the afternoon session, we'll scoop up the stocks lying on the floor."
"Understood."
To Koda Mineo, the Korean stock market—where a slight push could move the index exactly as intended—was little more than a child's playground.
The thought of exploiting the inter-Korean naval clash in the West Sea to violently shake the market and reap a tidy profit brought a deep smile to his lips.
But that pleasant reverie did not last long.
"Huh? What's going on?"
"What is it?"
Koda Mineo asked in a relaxed tone.
"The decline has suddenly stopped!"
Murasumi turned his head with a flustered expression as he spoke, and Koda Mineo's brow furrowed.
"What are you talking about?"
"Look here. I don't know who it is, but someone is buying up every single sell order pouring in."
At those words, as Murasumi pointed at the monitor, Koda Mineo's face hardened.
"Does that even make sense?"
"It's true. The amount already purchased has exceeded 300—no, 400 billion won."
"Move aside!"
Koda Mineo shot to his feet and checked the monitor himself.
The mountain of sell orders that had been piled up just moments earlier had completely vanished. His eyes widened in disbelief.
"Both the KOSPI and the KOSDAQ are rebounding and rapidly narrowing their losses!"
At Murasumi's flustered shout, Koda Mineo—who had intended to drive the index down with a barrage of sell orders and then buy back in to pocket the difference—bellowed in fury.
"Damn it! Who the hell is flipping over the table we so carefully set?"