Taejin leaned back and said with a glint in his eyes,"Ah! I've got a genius idea. What if we do this—listen closely."
Every time he said that, it was trouble. I braced myself.
"What now?"
He held up a finger like he was revealing divine wisdom."You've got the superpower. I've got the capital. You invest with your Oracle Eye, and we split the profits fifty-fifty."
I stared at him.
"…Excuse me?"
He was dead serious."Come on, man. Let's just call it what it is. You've got a cheat code, I've got the ammo. All we need to do is play the game right."
It sounded tempting—absurd, but tempting.
But I wasn't stupid. Every investment carries risk. Even with "foresight."
"What if we lose everything?" I asked.
Taejin shrugged. "Then I eat the loss. You're the talent, I'm the bankroll. Simple as that."
"Yeah, until your billions disappear and I'm left holding the guilt."
He rolled his eyes. "You think I can't afford a bad month? Dude, I've got over ₩13 billion. We're not flipping coins here."
Still, I hesitated.
What if these visions weren't absolute? What if they were just… high-probability outcomes?
This wasn't magic. And investing based on vague flashes of possible futures? It wasn't how normal people handled money.
But Taejin was undeterred. He stuck out his hand like he was proposing a blood pact.
"Partner up, Eren. Let's become legends."
"And if I say no?"
He grinned. "Then I disown you. Permanently."
I laughed, but didn't shake his hand.
Not yet.
Tirling!
My phone buzzed. It was Minseo.
[We're getting drinks with David Ki-hong later in Hongdae. You in? You're discharged now—we should celebrate.]
David Ki-hong.
He was a few years ahead of me in the department at K University. Respected by everyone. Calm, professional, and somehow always five steps ahead. Last I heard, he landed a job at KYB Investment & Securities—a top-tier firm.
"Where and when?"
[Bar near campus. In an hour.]
"Got it. See you soon."
I turned to Taejin. "Rain check on your billion-won plan. I've got somewhere to be."
"Hey! Don't ghost me like this, Oracle boy!"
Later – Basement Pub, Hongdae
The place had barely changed—dim lights, cheap wood tables, old posters of idol groups on the wall.
Minseo waved from across the room. "Eren! Over here!"
Beside her was Kyungil, a classmate from my year. Across from them sat two unfamiliar faces.
Kyungil introduced them. "First-year students. Fresh meat. Eren, meet Shin Yuri and Hwang Ji-hye."
Both girls stood up politely.
"Hello, sunbae."
"I've heard a lot about you from Minseo."
Shin Yuri was tall, bleach-blonde, confident. Ji-hye had short black hair and a quiet vibe. Even from across the table, I could tell they were sharp.
The Business Department was still 70% guys. Female students always stood out—and not just because of the imbalance. They had to be sharper to survive.
Kyungil leaned toward Yuri like he was auditioning for a rom-com.
"Drink slow, Yuri. First-time alcohol with sunbaes can be dangerous."
"Thanks for the warning," she smiled politely.
He launched into a lecture about Professor Kim's lectures, which I was pretty sure he had failed—twice.
As the night wore on, the soju flowed. I got more comfortable. We laughed, swapped stories, clinked glasses.
At one point, Yuri filled my glass without a word.
"Thanks."
"I drink well," she said casually. "Three bottles, no problem."
Modern freshmen were built different.
Thirty minutes later, the bar door opened and a man in his late 20s stepped in, wearing a sharp suit and a tired expression.
David Ki-hong.
"Is everyone behaving?" he smiled as he sat down.
I stood and bowed slightly. "It's been a while, hyung."
He nodded. "You're out now?"
"Just a week ago."
"You should've called me. I would've treated you."
Minseo poured him a drink. "You're lucky to even have a job right now. Everyone else is still in limbo."
Ki-hong sighed. "We're already seeing cuts at the firm. Mergers are killing people."
Kyungil blinked. "Wait, KYB Securities is downsizing?"
"It's merging with Doori Securities. Second and fourth biggest, forming a mega-IB."
"That sounds like a good thing?"
"For shareholders, maybe. For employees? Redundancies mean layoffs. Some departments already started voluntary retirement plans—even for first-years."
We all fell quiet.
It was sobering. Literally.
"I'm thinking about switching to private equity," he added. "M&A always interested me."
Private equity. High risk, high return. Fewer rules, more action.
"Thought it'd be smooth sailing once I landed the job," Minseo said softly. "Guess not."
Ki-hong chuckled bitterly. "You don't land safely in finance. You just survive another day."
Eventually, as the drinks mixed—beer, soju, and everything in between—David launched into one of his classic rants.
"You know what Korea's problem is? We make things. Great things. Seoseong Electronics, Eunsung Motors. But finance? We suck at finance."
"Isn't Seoseong our pride?" Minseo asked.
"Sure. But foreigners own over 50% of the company. Its profits go to offshore hedge funds, pension funds, and private equity giants. They take the money. We make the gadgets."
Kyungil raised his beer. "This QB's Korean, at least."
Ki-hong laughed.
"Not even that. QB was sold to KRR, a British fund. They flipped it to a TM Consortium five years ago—for five times the purchase price."
Even our beer wasn't ours anymore.
As I nursed my glass, I glanced down at my phone.
Taejin's offer still lingered.
Billions. Power. The future.
I looked around the table—job uncertainty, market chaos, ownership lines blurred beyond borders.
Maybe it wasn't so crazy after all.
Maybe foresight was exactly what this world lacked.