WORLD END ECONOMiCA - Volume 1 - Chapter 10

The character name is not finalized. The character name will be fix once the official English light novel is release.

The next day, what Hagana and I had to do was set. Hagana didn’t look at her terminal. She knew that everything she needed to do was finished. All that was left was to watch how things unfolded by my side. But that didn’t mean she served no purpose. Hagana was someone who had to be there, someone who belonged there.

“Let’s go.”

The moment trading began, I muttered, and Hagana nodded silently. On the final day of the investment contest, “Final Trading Day” was written in red letters on the trading screen. There was even a countdown until 5 PM, set up to agitate the participants.

The number of participants seemed to have decreased even further than yesterday; looking at the market as a whole, there was no price movement in most stocks. In exchange, for the stocks where trading was occurring, the trading volume was unprecedented. Since trading only happens when there are both buyers and sellers, they were like fish struggling to find swimmable water in a pond that was drying up.

However, it looked a little different to my eyes. It was a scene of fishing in Earth’s oceans that I had seen in videos. A net being hauled up, with a massive amount of fish cornered and writhing.

Ichimou-dajin—Catching them all in one net.

Humans of the historic Earth come up with wonderful phrases.

“Hal…”

“I know.”

She was probably anxious because I was flipping through other stocks and not going to look at the one we had decided to trade today. However, I have absolute faith in the data Hagana calculated. If most of the accumulated margin buy orders are indeed “dead,” I know how the price will move without even looking. My mind was sharp enough to hold that much confidence.

“We need another 68 million Mool, right? Since we have 292 million Mool, our total investment capital comes to 876 million Mool. It’s not a small amount, but it’s not perfect either. If we move right from the morning, we’ll get beaten. Investment is like Rock-Paper-Scissors where you’re allowed to play your hand late.”

Even if I don’t know who placed them, the screen always displays the number of orders and the volume of executed trades. If you stare at the same stock long enough, you start to see through it—discern what kind of participants are involved and with how much money.

When aiming for fractions of a percent, it becomes a psychological war where you can almost see the opponent’s face, but right now, the fish are floundering and running about in confusion. Especially since it’s the final day of the contest, the guys who realized they can’t aim for the top no matter how hard they struggle are becoming desperate and acting out. I have to wait for them to tire themselves out. Those guys are treating this mostly like a game. In a game, once you lose motivation, you get bored with playing quickly.

What I have to be careful of are the guys intending to make money by taking the position opposite to us. We are trying to win by driving up a single stock price, holding it at that peak, and enduring until the investment contest ends. Since the final ranking is evaluated based on the participant’s funds and the value of the invested stocks, the calculation is that if we force the stock price up all the way, we win.

However, suppose I jump the gun and buy too much, causing a price that was, say, 1,000 Mool to suddenly shoot up to 1,200 Mool. If that happens, the sellers will flood in, selling off rapidly from 1,200 Mool. The guys holding the stock will sell at the high price with grins on their faces. The short sellers—those selling on margin—will have a sale at 1,200 Mool written on their position tables, meaning the lower it goes from there, the more profit they make.

In contrast, I would be left stranded holding stocks bought at 1,200 Mool, with no funds left. All I could do then is pray like Lisa. If that happens, I will surely lose. To win, I have to make the opposite situation happen.

So, I wait patiently. In the market, perhaps because people were getting bored and quitting as time passed, the total trading volume was steadily decreasing. The water needed for traders to swim in the market was drying up rapidly. Technically, this is called a liquidity crunch. If there are no partners to trade with, a mere small order can cause the price to skyrocket to death or crash. However, if the price goes up, those wanting to sell will rush in; if it goes down, those wanting to buy will rush in.

I wait patiently. While the red numbers indicating the time until the end of the investment contest ticked down, I simply waited.

Black Chocolate Incorporated is one of the few stocks maintaining a decent trading volume. It’s not that desperate guys are gathering there, nor is it completely ignored. The reason is likely the massive volume of margin buying. Does that belong to people still participating in the trade? Or does it belong to people who have already dropped out? Because that is unknown and the movement cannot be read, everyone is watching from a distance. That’s why it’s peaceful now, but once it moves, a big movement is expected. Despite attracting interest with that atmosphere, no big trades are occurring.

Up until now, I had always closed my positions ten minutes before the market closed. Because monsters lurk in the final ten minutes. But now, I was about to become the monster myself.

My investable capital of 876 million Mool is a significant amount even in the virtual market. Even the guy in third place trailing me has dropped his funds to 170 million Mool due to infighting and market chaos; even with leverage, he only has a little over 500 million in investment capital. Moreover, aside from Mr. Troche and myself, the leaderboard is shifting at a dizzying pace, almost fast enough to make the numbers blur. Occasionally someone would climb the ranks, but they were like flopping fish—dropping right after rising, sinking toward the bottom. If anyone were watching the leaderboard, it wouldn’t be strange for them to mistakenly think I had already finished trading.

Inviting that misunderstanding was one of the reasons I hadn’t moved.

Morning trading ended, I ate the meal Lisa made, and waited patiently. Hagana didn’t say a word. The market opened an hour later, and we resumed our watch.

Black Chocolate Incorporated was trading at 812 Mool, 9 Mool higher than the previous day. The cumulative trading volume since morning was just over 42,000 shares. In other words, only a little over 34 million Mool had moved. Even looking at the margin trading balance, there was almost no movement.

“Time to give it a poke.”

I muttered and placed a buy order for 3,000 shares. A slight tremor seemed to run through the trading board, which had been wavering with indecision. The sound of a large whale swimming. Sharp individuals might have sensed it, or perhaps it was just my own overconfidence. My order executed a short while later, bringing the price to 813 Mool. Then, as if in response, someone put out a sell order for the same 3,000 shares.

812 Mool.

The fish are gathering well enough. And they’re the type with enough brains to think a little.

The time was just past two o’clock. A little under three hours left. I placed orders for 2,000 or 3,000 shares every five minutes or so. Drawn by that noise, the trading volume gradually increased. Both sellers and buyers gathered, and since selling was slightly dominant, the price hit 810 Mool. While blocked by the psychological barrier of the round number—units of 10—the sellers were gnawing away at that wall bit by bit.

It passed three o’clock, and an announcement from the contest organizers flowed across the trading screen. “Two hours remaining. Everyone, do your best with the time left,” yada yada. Even though it was an obvious notice, there were those who got shaken by just that. Trading volume increased slightly, and things started moving.

“…”

I noticed Hagana looking at me as if she wanted to say something. But I ignored it and stared intently at the screen.

3:17. The moment when the agitation from the announcement had subsided, and many people were taking a breather. I placed an order for 100,000 shares all at once. Over 80 million Mool. Amounting to 9% of my available investment capital. Naturally, there weren’t enough sell orders prepared to handle such an order; swallowing up the sell orders one after another, the price raced upward at full throttle.

811, 812, 813, 815, 818—it shot up in an instant. Then, colliding with a sell order someone happened to place, perhaps due to a quirk in the trading system, the rise halted for just a split second.

That was all it took to wake up the half-asleep crowd.

“It’s started.”

I grinned smugly.

Order sizes that had been 100 or 200 shares, or at most 3,000 or 4,000, suddenly jumped up a digit.

“Water! There’s water here!” The fish gathered, seeking a place to swim, and their very presence became water for other fish, drawing in even more.

Sell 20,000 shares, buy 10,000 shares, buy 5,000 shares, sell 7,000 shares.

Selling was dominant. Looking at the outstanding margin buy orders, it was a natural reaction. If the price rises, the margin buyers will start selling to offload. They probably wanted to sell first and escape with high prices before that wave hit.

Perhaps there were many thinking that way, because selling begot selling, and more people kept gathering.

813, 811, 810… 810… 810… 809.

Next to me, I felt like I could hear the sound of Hagana clenching her fists tight.

The wall at the 10-mark broke, and it plummeted—808, 807, 806. Once it gained momentum, the algorithmic traders who sniff out that momentum gathered systematically.

804, 802, 800…

At the 800-mark wall, buy orders exceeded 200,000. But under the furious bombardment, even that wall was beginning to wobble. If this broke, it would drop further. From the buyers’ perspective, if they could hold the line here, it would become difficult to drive the price down further, so they were desperately propping it up with buy orders.

The battle back and forth continued, and I struck the keys. I feel like I am the only one operating a tank while everyone else is fighting with wooden sticks. I put out a buy order for 200,000 shares all by myself. The tables turned.

“…Hal…”

Hagana murmured my name. But it didn’t seem like she was calling me. It looked like she was murmuring it unconsciously out of sheer tension. Even when I glanced at her sideways, Hagana was staring intently at the terminal and didn’t look up. Last night, I told her this trade was for her sake. Hagana had lost her composure for real back then. That’s why she’s hoping. She is hoping, clumsily. Her clumsiness comes from knowing all too well, through her life so far, that hope holds no meaning. She must have stopped hoping a long time ago. But I turned Hagana’s mathematical power into a tool applicable to real-world problems, and she responded to that. Every day had been a proof that hope is never in vain, and that the struggle to do the impossible until it becomes possible is never a waste. Trying to move forward is never, ever in vain.

“Margin buying is increasing. Looks like your prediction was right after all.”

The stock price returned to 814 Mool. It doesn’t go higher because if it does, sellers will come in, and knowing that, the buyers are lying in wait to buy after it drops. The ones trading are likely guys just placing orders for the heck of it without understanding what’s going on. Amidst this, I’m staring at the margin buying figures. There’s some movement, but nothing major. If they don’t wake up after being shaken this much, they really are mostly dead.

“According to calculations, nearly 80% should be dead.”

“80%?”

The outstanding margin buy balance is 1.05 million shares in total. 80% of that would be 840,000 shares. In other words, even if guys turn to sell as the price rises, it’s only a little over 200,000 shares—about 160 million Mool in value. Our remaining funds still exceed 500 million Mool. We should be able to do this.

“Hal, the price.”

Hagana said, and when I looked at the price, it was climbing—815, 816, 817. Someone fairly big has entered the fray. Sellers fought back, but more buying appeared, pushing it up to 824. The time finally passed 4 PM. There was still a whole hour left. But for the guys with few funds who wanted to somehow catch a boom or crash and claw their way into the top ranks, it probably felt like there was only one hour left. The remaining fish were gathering more and more around stocks with even a little trading volume, and Black Chocolate was heating up considerably. The price that had risen to 824 dropped to 813 in one go, then returned to 824 again in an instant. Seeing that, Hagana spoke.

“Someone’s program has appeared.”

“I figured. The reaction time is too fast, and the pricing is too formulaic.”

The price bounced back and forth within the same range like a pinball, then suddenly, the whole range shifted heavily. It was clearly being traded mechanically by a program like the one Hagana created. Since there are limits to how fast human hands can move, they let a computer do the work, trying to stack up profits of less than 1% hundreds of times over.

But ultimately, that only works if there are suckers willing to play along with the patterned trading that machines excel at. On the final day of the contest, the crowd has been filtered down to those who prey on such bots. Guys who actually use their heads.

The price jumped to 832 Mool. The program reacted dutifully and chased after it. Sellers joined the fray, and trading volume surged.

The time was approaching 4:30. Finally unable to hold back, Hagana looked straight at me.

“Hal.”

I slowly looked her way. And nodded.

“Don’t lose your nerve.”

I shrugged and flashed a smile.

“If you get scared, you lose.”

I wait longer. I just wait. To someone immersed in the market, the remaining thirty minutes is a span of time that passes in the blink of an eye. Most people are likely exhausting themselves placing orders, fluctuating between joy and despair with every price movement. But I must not surrender myself to that torrent of emotion. I have to see through people’s intentions. Whether in mafia movies or war movies, reckless action is reserved for the final ten minutes. The ones who die are the guys who bet their lives in the last thirty minutes.

“Twenty minutes…”

Hagana murmured anxiously. The price was 824 Mool. A sell order for 200,000 shares appeared—not quite a whale, but significant. I placed a buy order for 300,000 shares.

Is there a real whale? It felt like I could hear the inner thoughts of everyone participating in that space. Birds gather at the sight of the whale’s spout, and sharks gather, sniffing out the scent of slaughter. The sellers placed orders as if screaming in madness, but the buyers bought relentlessly. Many people realized why a whale had appeared on the buying side. The outstanding margin buy balance was not a reserve army of future sell orders. They were dead. They were dead, silent paper tigers.

The price exceeded 840 Mool and reached 850 Mool. My average acquisition price was 820 Mool, totaling about 500 million Mool. A rise of just under 4% meant 20 million Mool. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. I had to use the remaining 300 million Mool and finish with a profit of just under 100 million Mool.

Timing. It’s all about timing. I must become a monster. I have to race through laughing maniacally while everyone else, unable to place orders in time, stands dumbfounded or screams in semi-madness. This is where I focus. Right here.

Time ticked away minute by minute. Thirteen minutes left. Twelve. Eleven. Ten. I didn’t place an order. Not yet. The sellers sold desperately, and the buyers bought desperately. The margin trading balance shifted dizzyingly. Margin selling was piling up, and margin buying was piling up too, but it wasn’t collapsing.

I can do this. It was the moment I was about to place the final buy order.

“Hal!”

Hagana shouted, and I froze. Hagana’s finger was pointing at the outstanding margin buy balance. That number had started to plummet rapidly.

“Is it… being sold off?”

“…I think it’s the people who bought earlier selling now.”

“Then…”

I have to wait a little longer. To get the maximum effect, I have to wait until the selling settles down. However, a cold sweat began to form on my back. The total outstanding margin buy balance before the movement started was 1.05 million shares. The amount accumulated since it started moving was at most 300,000 shares. Yet, that number had already dropped below 900,000 shares.

“There is a margin of error in the estimation.”

Hagana spoke, perhaps having read my thoughts.

“How much?”

“About the square root of that number. Which means, 100,000 shares.”

Within the margin of error. Indeed, the movement has stopped at 900,000 shares. Has every active margin buy been sold off? Anticipating a drop in price?

Seven minutes remaining. If I’m going to place an order, I have to decide now. The price is 836 Mool. If the order size is too large, there’s a possibility it won’t execute due to connection or server processing issues. It would be processed as an unexecuted order and returned as cash.

That would be bad. Simply put, bad. There is nothing more shameful than losing while still holding onto your funds. It’s the same as a guy who dies from being too cautious being an utter fool.

I prepare an order for 300,000 shares, close to my limit. But what if there were still a massive amount of “alive” margin buyers left? In that case, unless I hold out until the absolute last second, I’ll get hit with counter-trades.

The odds are fifty-fifty. No, that’s not it.

I look at Hagana. Hagana looks at me, too. This isn’t just the brink of whether we get 200,000 Mool or not. It was the turning point of whether to trust Hagana’s data or not.

Hagana purses her lips tightly and looks at me. A face filled with anxiety. This was supposed to be a trade for Hagana.

“Can’t be helped. Here goes.”

I turned back to the screen and placed the order. Starting at 836 Mool, it mowed down sell orders like a raging wave. Seeing that, follow-up buying appeared, but since my order took top priority, their speed couldn’t catch up. Leaving other buy orders far behind, the price shot all the way up to Jupiter.

850, 860, 868, 874, 879… 882… The momentum of my strike stopped there. But the buy orders that hadn’t been able to catch up surged in as a second wave. The price flew instantly to 895 Mool, and I gasped at the value of my holdings. The average acquisition price was 841 Mool, with over 900,000 shares. The profit was roughly 48 million. Only 20 million Mool left to reach first-place Mr. Troche!

Buying orders flooded in, with three minutes remaining. 897, 898, 899… The 100-mark wall. The moment it crossed that. The world opened a new door. The moment I braced myself against that brightness…

“Huh?”

The buy orders froze while the numbers were still inflating. I couldn’t quite grasp the situation this indicated. A sell order. And one large enough to absorb the entire wave of buy orders. A total of 620,000 shares. Whether due to system lag or not, that eerie thing moved terribly slowly, like a giant meteorite colliding with a planet.

“Who—”

I muttered, immediately checking the outstanding margin buy balance, but there was no movement. A newcomer? Then if I clear this out, I should win. I placed orders using all my remaining buying power. Immediately, the trading volume deadlocked.

Then, with two minutes left, the system started moving. Buying was dominant. I can do this. Right after I thought that, the outstanding margin buy balance on the screen plummeted, and my breath stopped. What that indicated was that among the trades just now, the margin buyers had been present. And that their total number was far beyond the margin of error Hagana had mentioned. The conclusion drawn from that was…

“…Selling.”

My mutter was drowned out by the roar of the monster lurking in the last two minutes. The price turned back at 912 Mool, and the crowd, convinced that the buyers’ funds were finally exhausted, went all-in on selling. 908, 905, 901, 891, 882… The momentum was accelerating. With less than a minute left, meager buy orders came in, but no one could stop it. It was over.

The countdown on the screen stopped, marking 5:00 PM. The price was 862 Mool. My average acquisition price was, coincidentally, 862 Mool. In other words, all our trading was meaningless; our funds hadn’t increased by a single Mool.

Conclusion.

“We lost.”

I muttered. The result was 292 million Mool, second place. The prize money: 50,000 Mool.

At that moment, the popping sound notifying of incoming emails rang out repeatedly from the terminal. Looking at the subject lines, they were headhunting emails from major financial institutions. But, at this point? I ignored them and stretched hugely right there.

Next to me, Hagana was dumbfounded. It was no wonder. Hagana’s prediction had missed.

“…Ah…”

Hagana tried to mutter something, but what came out was only tears. Staring at the frozen numbers on the screen, she cried expressionlessly. This trade was supposed to be done for my ego, yet the one crying wasn’t me, but Hagana.

Strangely, I felt no frustration, embarrassment, or regret. When Hagana had sobbed in fear in her own room, she had desperately protected her head. So, I ruffled that head vigorously. Hagana didn’t protect her head. She just kept crying silently.

I gave it a light pat at the end and stood up from the chair. I wanted a drink, and naturally, I was exhausted. Besides, I had to contact Burton. I stretched broadly, cracking my joints. The reason I didn’t feel frustrated despite losing was probably the sense of satisfaction from having pushed toward the goal in perfect step with Hagana all the way. I couldn’t give Hagana the money I promised, and despite failing to realize what I had boasted about, I etched into my memory the fact that the heart can still be filled regardless.

It wasn’t a bad experience. It certainly wasn’t a bad experience.

While the sound notifying of email arrivals continued to ping, I started to head to the bathroom. And then, as if timing it perfectly, the wall-mounted phone rang. Did Lisa call wanting to know the result? Thinking good grief, I smiled wryly and picked up the phone.

“Who is this?”

Having imagined Lisa’s eager voice, for a moment, that voice sounded like mere static to me.

“It’s me, Cerault.”

“…What do you want? Lisa?”

Feeling as though my strange sense of satisfaction had been tainted, I asked back a bit grumpily.

“Hm? Lisa, too, but… you guys have time now, right?”

It sounded as if he knew about the investment contest. I knew he was aware of its existence, but was he really that interested in it?

“Yeah, well, I guess.”

“Then, I’m heading over there right now.”

“Huh? Uh, I mean, what for?”

“I’ll explain the reason later. Also,” Cerault paused for a moment, then said, “How’s Hagana-chan’s mood?”

This guy really is a lolicon. He was spouting nonsense about getting his hands on an adult video featuring a girl who looks like Hagana; maybe it was actually true. I thought this with exasperation, though I couldn’t say I was entirely uninterested.

“The worst,” I answered intentionally.

Cerault gasped. Just how much do you like Hagana? I smiled wryly, but my smile froze at his very next words.

“Toyama-san is coming with me. Smooth things over for us.”

“Hah, wha—hey! Wait a sec!”

Without hearing me out, Cerault hung up. Toyama? With Cerault? Not understanding at all, I stared at the silent phone. Perhaps finding my exchange strange, Hagana was looking at me while wiping her tears.

“…Cerault asked how your mood was,” I told her.

Hagana made a puzzled face just like mine, but answered, “Not bad.” She replied, then sniffled loudly.

“Even though we lost because of me… I don’t know why.”

I put the phone back and sighed. Hagana is clumsy. She was very honest, and clumsy.

“Actually, I’m not really that frustrated either.”

“…”

“It’s not because I intended to give you all the prize money from the start, or anything like that. It’s simpler.”

Feeling embarrassed, I rubbed my nose and said.

“I mean, wasn’t it fun?”

I looked at Hagana. She looked at me blankly, and then cried again. But those weren’t tears of regret or anything. Tears shed with a smile couldn’t possibly be tears of regret.

“Alright, don’t cry forever.”

“I’m not crying.”

Hagana wiped the smile from her face and made an absurd excuse. I didn’t feel like calling her out on it, so I just shrugged.

“I’m sure. But, we have guests. What do you want to do?”

“…Guests?”

“Yeah. Do you want to retreat to your room?”

“…Depends on the person.”

Naturally, she would say that. I hesitated slightly, but felt that hiding it would be worse.

“Cerault, and…”

“I don’t want to meet him.”

“Toyama.”

At that last word, Hagana truly stopped crying.

“…W-Why?”

“I don’t know. Neither do I. He didn’t mention that on the phone either.”

“The debt… we can repay it, right?”

“Easily. Though receiving the prize money is still a little ways off. More importantly, what bothers me is that it doesn’t seem like he’s here for Lisa.”

Hagana frowned at those words. Even I don’t understand the meaning.

“I wonder what it is.”

“…I don’t know.”

Hagana wiped her eyes, and then, her look changed like a character in a transformation hero show.

“But, if we meet them, we’ll know.”

“Exactly.”

Hagana has changed. And probably for the better.

Hagana and I sat side-by-side at the table without much conversation, drinking cocoa we had made. I really don’t remember which of us did it first, but until the intercom rang, our hands were layered over each other under the table. When we separated, it felt a little lonely.

“Yo.”

When I opened the church door, Cerault’s huge head was the first thing I saw. And standing next to him was Toyama, emaciated like a ghost, with only the light in his eyes glaring.

Even when Toyama and Hagana faced each other, neither lost their composure. Since it didn’t seem like Toyama was going to start anything, it was naturally Hagana who had grown. Besides, we can definitely repay the debt now. That fact might have calmed her heart.

“So, what do you want?”

Hagana and I sat side-by-side, while Toyama and Cerault sat on the opposite side. Toyama was holding something that looked like an attaché case, and Cerault was empty-handed.

“Don’t we even get tea?”

“Your place is self-serve anyway, isn’t it?”

“True… Well, never mind then. About our business.”

Cerault looked at Toyama next to him.

“I already spoke to Lisa, but…”

When Toyama said that, Hagana and I looked at each other, and Cerault scratched his head.

“I knew she hadn’t told you…”

“What are you talking about?”

“My bad. Toyama-san, go ahead.”

“Right.”

Toyama nodded as if sighing, opened the attaché case under his chair, and placed a bag he took from inside onto the table. It was a worn hemp bag with a rugged design whose only selling point was its sturdiness.

“There’s 150,000 Mool in here.”

“…Huh?”

“I want you to increase it. This money, as much as possible.”

He didn’t seem to be joking. However, I couldn’t think of it as anything but a joke, so I turned my gaze to the bag Toyama had produced. Toyama opened the mouth of the bag and turned it over; bundles of bills rolled out. They were all worn-out bills, held together with rubber bands. It was just like a scene from a mafia movie. But this was reality, and the money was probably real too.

“It’s truly shameful to have this much cash in this day and age, but that’s the business I’m in. Please forgive me.”

“No, wait a minute, what is this money?”

“It’s not dirty money. Though it looks bad. It’s money I managed to scrape together.”

“That’s not what I mean!”

At my words, Toyama said without flinching in the slightest.

“You two have been taking money from my clients and increasing it, haven’t you?”

That sounded just like a threat. But perhaps that was because of Toyama’s determination not to back down.

“I-Is that a bad thing?”

“No. It’s helped me out, too.”

Toyama said.

“I know to some extent whether my clients can repay their debts or not. So when I heard about you through the grapevine, I supported you from the bottom of my heart.”

“…So, you decided you wanted a piece of the action too?”

When I said that, Toyama laughed weakly.

“My principle is to lend even to those with no prospect of repayment if I trust them, but I don’t gamble. I’d decided that.”

“Stocks aren’t gambling.”

“Ah, my bad. I don’t mean to disparage it. But isn’t it a gamble whether entrusting money to you will increase it or not?”

It sounded like mere wordplay, but I could see his point. Even Chris and her father wouldn’t have come to entrust their precious funds if they didn’t know Hagana.

“So, why is the gamble-hating Toyama-san bringing a large sum to us?”

“…I’ll have him explain that.”

Toyama said, looking at Cerault. Right. Cerault. Why is Cerault here?

“Ah, I have to do it…”

“Please.”

Toyama said as if he had exhausted all his energy. Cerault sighed and leaned forward over the table.

“I heard about Lisa’s debt from you, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“And then, the rumors about you guys. There’s no way that strait-laced Lisa would allow such a thing. I thought something was up and investigated. Turns out, folks around here are all suffering from debt at once. Thinking this was strange, I contacted old man Toyama, and when I listened closely…”

He paused for a breath, then said.

“Old man Toyama was in trouble too.”

“I know that st—”

The words “I know that story” retreated as Cerault’s massive head thrust forward.

“Do you know the guys behind it too?”

“…Be, hind?”

“At first, I thought they were just debt collectors too.”

I heard that the good-natured person who had lent Toyama his seed money died of illness, and the relatives on Earth sold that debt to someone. Folks living on Earth wouldn’t think of collecting debt lent to someone on the Moon by themselves. The orbital elevator fee is no joke, and above all, the Moon has a reputation for being full of money-grubbers. If so, selling it to a specialized agency isn’t strange at all.

“But, is that a problem?”

“Yeah. The Moon is a place people come to earn money. There are more dirty guys here than anywhere on Earth. I also had the company I built with great care taken over, and was saved by Lisa when I was in despair.”

Cerault says such things. His programming skills were top-notch, fulfilling all of Hagana’s requests. As expected, he wasn’t just a manager of a run-down cafe.

“So, my gut told me. Something’s weird. So I investigated the guys pressing Toyama-san for repayment. And sure enough.”

“It was a famous jiage-ya—a land shark.”

“…Land shark?”

“They’re common on Earth, and even on the Moon, there are plenty around Newton City. But around here, they’re still rare.”

“I don’t follow. Land sharks? Those are the guys who buy up land and buildings, right?”

What would they do buying up a poverty district like this? While I sat dumbfounded, Cerault bared his teeth and said.

“A redevelopment project proposal is being discussed in the Moon City Council.”

Another abrupt statement. My brain can’t keep up.

“As new cities are developed on the lunar surface, redevelopment is essential for this place, the First City, to remain the center of the Moon, yada yada… Well, basically, clean up the dirty places so they don’t lose out to other new cities. Of course, there are tons of vested interests involved.”

“But, what does that have to do with the debt…”

“Rights to land and houses,” Toyama said.

“Huh?”

“The lunar surface is a frontier. So, the laws are tailored for that. Developers hold the greatest vested interests. Even if someone owns the land, if the person renting that land builds a building on it by themselves, the one who contributed to urban development is, if anything, the person who built the house. Their rights are equal to the landowner. Or maybe even greater. In that respect, there are many handmade houses around here. You fly around a lot, so you know, right?”

It seems I was being watched somewhere. But I understand those words well. This area is full of buildings that are mostly forced extensions and renovations repeated over and over, intricately intertwined. There seemed to be many guys who didn’t even know where their house started and ended.

“When redevelopment happens, the administration will probably pay a decent amount to the rights holders while hinting at forced execution. Or maybe exchange it for the right to live here after redevelopment. But the problem is, there are guys trying to buy up everything now in anticipation of price increases.”

“Are those… the guys holding your debt?”

“Yes. I was targeted. After all, I’ve lent money to folks around here beyond any prospect of repayment. With that bundle of bonds, they can almost forcibly snatch up the land and buildings of dozens of houses without knocking on doors one by one to negotiate. Naturally, at a dirt-cheap price.”

If debt exceeds assets, that naturally happens. And the fact that Toyama is a conscientious lender to the point of foolishness works adversely here. A greedy lender would only lend an amount likely to be repaid to a guy likely to repay. But Toyama lends even if it exceeds the person’s share if he trusts them, and puts up with just interest payments. That might be appreciated from the borrower’s side, but that comes with the annotation because it’s Toyama. If the opponent is thinking of snatching assets from the beginning, it’s the same as having a rope dug deep into the throat. Especially for the dull-witted folks who let their guard down thinking surely not since I’m borrowing from Toyama, it’s even more dangerous. There are many folks in this neighborhood with such ropes around their necks.

“With redevelopment, this place will become unrecognizable. Frankly speaking, not a trace will remain. Beautiful shopping malls, beautiful apartment complexes, beautiful roads. It will be like an extension of the White Belt. Of course, there’s sadness in that. But what makes me saddest is that the people who built this place and endured desperately until now will be forced to vacate without receiving fair compensation.”

I understood Toyama’s emaciation. Because of the lending he thought was for their good, the folks shouldering debt have ropes dug deep into their necks. And because of such management, when told to return the seed money, even Toyama can’t return it. Someone apparently said the road to hell is paved with good intentions. A typical example of that was right in front of my eyes.

“If we can hold out until the resolution for redevelopment is passed, the administration will start negotiations, so there’s no problem. But if creditors use the debt as a shield anticipating capital gains before that, those shouldering debt have no choice but to hand over everything lock, stock, and barrel to the opponent at a low price. Stripped bare, still left with debt, and moreover, no place to live. The land sharks, holding their meager assets and rights to land and buildings, wait for the administration to clean up the place. Then, they reign as rights holders in the shiny town and gain enormous profits.”

“Redevelopment also implies redistribution of wealth to low-income earners. If this area is redeveloped with taxes paid by large corporations in Newton City earning like crazy, the people around here who narrowly support the fine parts of Newton City in the peripheral area of the city will benefit, right? But if land sharks are allowed to do as they please, it ends up being a composition where the rich just become richer. You’re from the East, right?”

Cerault stares straight at me.

“Around your home, weren’t there people who came to the Moon after having everything taken from them by great powers back on Earth, just like this?”

Weren’t there, he asks? Laughter welled up within me along with anger. That’s all there was. That was everyone.

“Lisa is no exception. That’s why we can’t let that happen again. This is the Moon. It’s a frontier. And on a frontier, those who make the effort must be rewarded.”

Cerault said, leaning over the table. He didn’t have his usual frivolous, laid-back vibe. Cerault, too, was a man who came from Earth chasing success on the Moon. And had everything taken away by the merciless power of this city.

I shifted my gaze from Cerault to the bag Toyama had produced. Dirty bundles of bills were tumbling out of the opening. There were people who had carefully folded these dirty bills one by one, treasuring them.

“The assets you’re already managing for others, plus this 150,000 Mool. If I can gather 800,000 Mool, I can repay the seed money. If I do that, the people of this town can grasp good fortune here. People who endured on Earth, and endured here, will finally be rewarded.”

Toyama spoke passionately. The bundles of bills before my eyes overwhelmed me with a presence far greater than their appearance suggested. The assets we were managing amounted to about 500,000 Mool. Adding 150,000 Mool to that makes 650,000 Mool. It’s less than a 30% increase to reach 800,000 Mool.

“Numerically… I don’t think it’s impossible.”

“I’ll say this just in case, but the people entrusting their precious assets to you are truly entrusting you with everything. So, if you barely scrape together 800,000 Mool, it won’t be enough.”

Living expenses. Operating costs for those running businesses. Medical bills if they’re sick, tuition fees if they have children.

“The guys itching to put them in debt will come rushing in droves. But if they can hold out for about a month, I think they’ll be fine. I want you to earn enough funds to cover that comfortably.”

“…”

40%, maybe 50%? When I looked at Hagana, she had her lips pursed tight, staring at the bundles of bills on the table. Or perhaps, she was staring at the unreasonableness of the world.

“…The timeframe?”

When I asked the most important thing, Toyama’s ashen face stiffened, and Cerault looked down. I had a bad feeling.

“The guys pressing me for repayment of the seed money intended to blindside me from the start.”

Saying that, he took a single sheet of paper from his bag. In an age where electronic certificates are the norm, it was old-fashioned. But precisely because of that, it held a tremendous sense of intimidation. Written there in bureaucratic language, along with the administration’s seal of approval, was this: Due to repeated default on debt obligations, immediate repayment is demanded…

“The person who lent me the seed money was truly a good-natured soul. Saying that if 800,000 Mool could save people, he just lent it to me on the spot. And naturally, every time the payment deadline passed again and again, he wrote a new contract and renewed it. But that history remains. From the outside, I’m a delinquent debtor. If that happens, the court has no choice but to give its seal of approval to the creditor. In other words…”

“In other words?”

“If I don’t repay by the beginning of next week, my assets will be seized.”

Most of the assets Toyama holds are the debt claims against the townspeople. In that instant, for the townspeople, the owner of the rope around their necks changes from the good-natured Toyama to a money-grubber.

“Then, one week? No… five days… with Sunday in between, four days? In four days? Why didn’t you—earlier—”

If so, we would have put the investment contest on the back burner. I started to say it, but remembered Cerault’s words. When he broached this subject, he asked if Lisa hadn’t told us after all. Lisa knew. She knew.

“Don’t blame Lisa.”

Cerault said, anticipating me.

“We told Lisa over and over. That it’s bad if we don’t hurry. That it’ll become irreversible. But Lisa refused to nod, stubbornly. She said she’d get genuinely angry if we brought that story to you and Hagana-chan.”

“Wh-Why, I don’t get the meaning.”

“You guys were totally absorbed in it, right?”

I was pierced through the heart by Cerault’s pained gaze.

I recalled the time I had spent with Hagana. That was, without a doubt, a dense and wonderful time.

“Lisa’s just that kind of person. She doesn’t care about material things. She values the connections between people more. Books might be the exception… but even then, she’d probably sell them.”

“Wha—”

“That’s the kind of person she is. She can keep being happy even without a place to live, clothes to wear, or food to eat. She genuinely believes that. And this is coming from Lisa, who lost many friends, relatives, and everything she had in a conflict zone, and reached the Moon by treading a truly precarious path. ‘What can we do?’ she asked. She had the nerve to say, ‘We can give up on money. But we can’t give up on our encounters.’ Lisa didn’t want to get in your way.”

I couldn’t say anything. I didn’t have the words. Good intentions. Even here, good intentions were paving the road to hell.

“That’s why we waited until this very moment. My stomach was in knots, too. And Toyama-san is as you see him.”

Toyama, who had looked like a zombie to begin with, had turned into a complete mummy. It wasn’t just his own assets Toyama was holding. He held the fate of others in his hands.

“But you guys can manage something, right? At least,” Cerault said, “it should be better odds than us hitting the casino.”

Things had progressed that far. True, it wasn’t impossible. But unlike the virtual market of the investment contest, this was the real market. Trading for only four days, and aiming for 50%? It might not be impossible. But the total amount was 650,000 Mool. The volume was huge. And what was more terrifying than anything was that failure wouldn’t be just our failure anymore. However, refusing wasn’t an option. Absolutely not.

“Could you take this on?”

I opened my mouth. But words didn’t come out. There was no way they would. This wasn’t a carefree situation where I could negotiate aggressively and say, “We won’t take any losses even if we lose.” What we were entrusted with wasn’t the slight, naive hope of guys who had nowhere else to turn and came running here. It was a silver bullet. A desperate means of resistance against the unreasonable system continuing from Earth.

“You’re our only hope. Please.”

Toyama placed his hands on the table and bowed his head. The Japanese way. Toyama was a Japanese-style name, so he must have looked up that I was the child of Japanese immigrants. Even so, I couldn’t find the courage. But then. A warm hand was placed over mine.

“…”

Startled, I looked to my side, but no one else was there. It was Hagana. Hagana, filling her pitch-black eyes with power, was staring intently at me.

“Hal told me.”

Then, her lips moved, and she spoke shortly.

“It’s not about whether you can or cannot.”

I squeezed Hagana’s hand back.

“You do it until it works.”

“…”

Hagana fell silent. After a pause, she nodded.

“Right.”

“Then—”

As Toyama raised his face, I desperately contorted my face to hold back tears and suppress my terror, and with as much bravado as I could muster, I said:

“I’ll definitely collect the reward sometime.”

Toyama wore a smile on his exhausted face.

“I’ll add plenty of interest.”

And so, we were all in the same boat.

Afterwards, Cerault made a point to remind me about Lisa on his way out. But I had no intention of blaming Lisa. Neither did Hagana. So, even when Lisa—who might have been waiting outside for our discussion to end—came back acting as if she knew nothing, Hagana and I didn’t say anything in particular. Since the cash Toyama brought was right there, it should have been obvious what had happened. But we feigned ignorance, ate dinner as usual, and midway through, reported that we had lost the investment contest.

“That’s too bad,” Lisa said with a smile. We told her the prize money was 50,000 Mool. When we told her that we could repay the debt with that, she smiled, looking a bit troubled, and said, “Thank you.”

Hagana and I didn’t even discuss it. What needed to be done, and how to do it—everything was already decided. Then, we just had to do it. We had to do it until it worked.

However, there was still the matter of Burton. I checked Burton’s email in secret, hiding it from Hagana, and scanned the text. Words of congratulation for second place, consolation, and regardless of the result, praise for the series of truly wonderful judgments in my trading. And then, words of confirmation asking about that matter. I hesitated slightly, then wrote the message in one go.

I would love to be under your care. But please wait a little longer.

There was an immediate reply from Burton.

Is there a problem?

I told him there was a problem I had to solve. There was a pause of about two minutes before the reply came. For how long it took, the text might have been the shortest yet.

I will always be of help.

I replied to those words with a heartfelt “Thank you,” without a single lie.

The next day was like a reprise of the investment contest. Except the stakes we were carrying were different. Moreover, this time it was the real market—more complex, where the program couldn’t fully exert its power. Mistakes were not allowed. Hesitation was not allowed. 50% in four days would be a level of performance bordering on madness. If we used leverage in margin trading, we could lower the hurdle to 17%. But the psychological burden wouldn’t just be tripled.

“Are you okay?” Hagana asked purely.

“We have to do it. Besides,” I said while opening the margin trading screen. “We have a multiplier on this side, too.”

“Eh?”

“You’re here.” When I forced a smile, Hagana turned her face away. Despite being expressionless, her cheeks were red, and her lips were slightly pouted.

Hagana and I immersed ourselves in trading. Lisa lived her life as usual, supporting us in various ways. However, she told us to sleep separately. She must have found out. Although Hagana agreed, she ended up collapsing on the desk from exhaustion and falling asleep, so I had to carry her to the bed. When I lifted her up to carry her, she woke up, but she just went limp and let me do as I pleased. I thought she should walk on her own legs, but her selfishness was adorable, so I couldn’t scold her. Combined with her eyes, she was like a pedigreed cat that had let its guard down.

Hagana and I worked as hard as we could. The people burdened with debt who heard our story brought us refreshments and other things. Chris’s father even volunteered for night watch, fearing that money-grubbers might attack us in our sleep.

Day by day, we piled up profits. But real trading is ruthless and complex. Partly because we had been so focused on the investment contest, the program’s accuracy had dropped significantly. Still, Hagana updated it in real-time, Cerault provided backup, and I chased the alpha with everything I had. Each individual profit was very weak. 0.1% or something like that.

But even exploration satellites heading for deep space rely on the faint thrust of ion emissions. Using the precious nest eggs of people who had been tossed about by the world’s absurdity and tasted bitter hardships to rip money from the lunar alchemy labs felt like we had become Robin Hood.

Carrying funds bloated to three times their size by leverage, I raced across the battlefield with Hagana’s support. We made profits, then took losses; we slashed at opponents, then got slashed in return. Just as we were fighting with a heavy burden on our backs, the guys trading on the other side of the screen were also fighting with real money on the line. Wishing for things to go well only for us might be the same as telling another version of me and Hagana on the other side of the screen to drop dead. That wasn’t just a delusion; it was a very real possibility.

But we had no choice. We had to do it, desperately.

However, reality is dull and heavy. The third day since trading began. Saturday night. Since the deadline for Toyama’s debt repayment is the end of Monday, with Sunday in between, we only have one day left. Our funds stood at 720,000 Mool. They had increased by only 12%.

Moreover, due to the trading continuing from the investment contest, Hagana and I were literally out of breath when trading ended. Our bodies were at their limits. Hagana wouldn’t tell me, but she seemed unwell and was occasionally vomiting in the bathroom.

“There’s still one day.” Hagana said it even though I hadn’t said anything. That was just proof of how dire the situation was.

“Where’s Lisa?” When I asked, Hagana shook her head. Since she had been immersed in trading with me all day, she had no way of knowing. Come to think of it, when I first arrived here, Hagana once asked me about Lisa while I was absorbed in trading. When I answered I didn’t know back then, Hagana made a blatantly unpleasant face. As if to say, you useless scum. Thinking about that, we’ve come a long way. I felt like I had been living here for a very long time.

“…Bathroom.” Hagana said and stood up. She headed unsteadily to the bathroom; she was probably going to vomit. I myself had constant diarrhea and couldn’t eat properly. Lisa looked at us with a worried face but didn’t say anything. Even if she did, we wouldn’t stop trading, and she couldn’t make us stop. So, Lisa started praying in the church more often. When I went to the bathroom in the middle of the night, I’d sense someone in the chapel, and peeking in, it was usually Lisa. Desperately praying to the bearded old man on the cross.

Is effort just a futile struggle in the end? Is this a place where the strong just get stronger? At Newton City’s Central Station, I saw the bronze statue of the founder of E.J. Rockberg, one of the Moon’s leading banks. They threw themselves into investments everyone thought were foolish and built their current status after unbelievable effort. But everyone makes an effort. Will the good fortune of effort being rewarded not visit us?

No matter what, pessimistic thoughts attacked me. I thought it was impossible while doing it, and sure enough, it was impossible. I didn’t want to hear such an obvious conclusion. Another 80,000 Mool. No, ideally 100,000 Mool. If we couldn’t prepare living expenses and everything else, the townspeople would eventually be forced to borrow from someone, falling prey to the money-grubbers waiting with bated breath.

Could we really generate that much profit in the last day? It would be impossible without a miracle. A miracle. A miracle. A miracle where a powerless human rises like a phoenix. Miracle? And then, I noticed a fragment of a miracle in my memory.

“Hal, actually, I’ve been thinking…” Hagana said, coming out of the bathroom. Even though she just came out, her mouth was a little wet. Unless she washed her face, it was immediately obvious what had happened.

“I think we have no choice but to narrow it down to one stock and bet on it. We won’t make it otherwise.” Hagana looked back on everything so far and said that. We failed at that in the investment contest. Moreover, this isn’t a market where the boundary conditions are clear like in the investment contest. There are no special clues, and we have to suddenly hammer out a profit of more than 10% within the existing framework. If that were possible, we would have done it from the start. Furthermore, we lost that bet in the investment contest.

That’s why Hagana’s words lacked spirit. But I didn’t reply to her suggestion; instead, I said shortly, “I’m going out for a bit.”

“…Huh? Hal? Where to?”

“I might be able to work something out.”

I didn’t answer and stood up. I grabbed my terminal and headed for my room. Hagana tried to follow me, but perhaps because her physical strength was at its limit, she remained seated, unable to stand.

“Tell Lisa something—make up an excuse.”

I called out from the hallway, went back into the room, and shouldered my bag while tucking the terminal under my arm.

“Hal!”

I heard Hagana’s voice but ignored it, dashing up the stairs to the second floor, then the third, and out the door. Outside, the artificial twilight was set. Newton City was just getting started.

I opened my terminal and sent an email to Burton. Can we meet?

A reply came instantly. But of course. Let’s meet at the Grand Central Hotel.

I closed the terminal and stuffed it into my bag. The story I heard from Burton about the real estate tycoon who bounced back no matter how many times he went bankrupt. Assets in this world aren’t just money.

And so, mustering every last ounce of my strength, I sprinted through the twilight town.

I ran through the glittering night of Newton City. To the people here, things like the redevelopment of a poverty district are completely irrelevant. Sums like 80,000 or 100,000 Mool must be pocket change to them. They’d probably say that if someone is ruined by such a paltry amount, they have no business being on the Moon. Even I thought that way at first.

But after living in Lisa’s church and trading alongside Hagana, I’ve come to understand something. Human connections cannot be replaced by money. If I could get a lap pillow from Lisa one more time for 30,000 Mool, I might just pay it. If so, what would be the price of Hagana’s hand, which I held under the covers that night I told her about my dream? What is the price of the smile now shown by Hagana, who used to look at me like I was trash, her face devoid of hope?

And if I feel that way about Hagana, the townspeople must feel the same way about their families. The same goes for Chris and his father. The fact that I’ve never seen Chris’s mother is probably just one episode of a common story I wouldn’t want to hear.

I ran through Newton City. Running through the place where the richest people in the world stride, I went to reel in the thread of good fortune that had dangled down to me. Sometimes one big trade attracts another, turning into an even larger profit. That was what I had aimed for at the end of the investment contest. And if that holds true in the market, it should naturally hold true in reality. Since everything is run by people and involves people, I headed there believing that the great luck that had come to me would attract yet another stroke of luck.

The Grand Central Hotel, an ultra-luxury hotel where rates start at 1,000 Mool a night. Perhaps because it was the weekend, limousines pulled up to the front entrance one after another, disgorging people who looked like government VIPs and wealthy folks surrounded by mountains of bodyguards. Since this was my third time here, I didn’t feel intimidated, and the doorman remembered me. He gave me a familiar smile and held the door open. I headed straight for the cafe without hesitation, where I was greeted with a smile by someone who also remembered me and was shown to a table.

Burton wants me. He wants my talent. Then, a deal should be possible. Stay strong. Don’t get weak.

And so, I stood before Burton. Burton was reading an old-fashioned physical book today.

“Sorry for the short notice.”

“Hm? Don’t worry about it. My schedule just happened to be open, so I was reading.”

Slipping a bookmark in as he spoke, Burton looked at me. It might be a regular occurrence now for Burton to stiffen his expression when he looks at me.

“You have a scary look on your face.”

“I have a request.”

Burton gestured for me to take a seat.

But I remained standing as I spoke.

“I want you to invest in me.”

“Invest.”

Burton repeated the word, then gestured to the chair once more.

“Well, first, sit down. Standing like that, this isn’t a negotiation; it’s a plea.”

He grinned and offered the chair yet again. I sat down. Burton rang a bell, and a waiter approached.

“An Irish coffee. And for you?”

“Co…”

I started to say coffee, but corrected myself.

“Hot cocoa.”

It was what I’d been drinking often these past few days, sitting side-by-side with Hagana.

“Very well, sir.”

Without doing anything so unrefined as taking notes, the waiter bowed and withdrew. Burton heaved a deep sigh and leaned back in his chair. A brief silence fell. I spoke.

“I would like you to make an investment.”

“Hmph.”

Burton grunted and looked at me. His gaze was sharper than I had ever seen it.

“You said investment. In that case, I must respond not as a headhunter, but as the representative of The Britannica.”

I felt as if Burton’s physical presence suddenly expanded. The overwhelming aura of a man of power. I felt like I’d be blown away if I didn’t plant my feet firmly.

“Will you make me a profit?”

Greedy loan sharks who pluck the last Mool from the poor—even they couldn’t match Burton’s intensity. It was an overwhelming ambition and drive that could only be worn by those who manage massive funds and reap massive rewards. People bow unconditionally to the ultra-rich. I clenched my teeth and spoke.

“May I speak?”

“Of course.”

I took a deep breath. And said.

“I want to borrow 500,000 Mool.”

One of Burton’s eyes twitched slightly.

“500,000 Mool? That is quite…”

Burton started to speak, then gave a light snort.

“Excuse me. That is quite a substantial amount.”

You must be joking. Burton’s estimated annual income is 400 million Mool. I said.

“Interest at 20% per annum.”

“And your plan for repayment?”

“If you can wait ten years, I can pay it back.”

“Hmm? At 20% a year… in ten years, it will be a little over five times the principal. That amounts to the lifetime earnings of someone working at a decent company in Moon City.”

“Is The Britannica merely a ‘decent’ company in Moon City?”

At my words, Burton’s mouth twitched slightly into the shape of a smile.

“Heh. Good one.”

As Burton laughed, the drinks arrived.

“The cocoa is for him.”

Burton pointed politely, and the hot cocoa was placed in front of me.

“Excuse me.”

“Mm.”

Burton raised a hand, and the waiter withdrew. Burton fished around in his jacket, produced a small flask from his breast pocket, and poured it into his coffee cup.

“At this hour, the drink needs to be strong.”

He said mischievously. Pouring nearly half the flask in one go, Burton spoke with his eyes still cast down at the cup.

“So, in ten years, you’ll be a top-notch manager earning 2.5 million Mool at The Britannica?”

“Or perhaps I’ll have gone independent.”

I’ll bluff as much as I can. But the more I bluffed, the more languid Burton’s movements became.

“Hmm… well, since you’re coming to work for me, it would indeed be a problem if you aimed to be a small-timer who fusses over 2.5 million Mool.”

“Then—”

“But why 500,000 Mool? Surely it’s not to buy licorice candy?”

It wasn’t pocket change. To Burton, it might be a trivial amount, but it wasn’t pocket change. I steeled myself and said.

“With that money, I can save a lot of people.”

“Hah.”

Burton exhaled, and then laughed. His large frame shook as he chuckled. Talking about helping people to a resident of Schrödinger Street. It was only natural to be laughed at.

“But favors can be sold at a high price later.”

At my words, Burton’s laughter stopped abruptly.

“Oh?”

“For certain reasons, I am currently managing funds for many people. Those people owe money to others, and these are their nest eggs for repayment. But it’s not enough for the repayment, so they entrusted it to me to increase it.”

“Insightful,” he said teasingly.

“But the person lending money to those people is also borrowing from someone else, and the ones lending the source money are land sharks.”

“…Hmm?”

Burton’s face turned serious.

“And?”

“And… the district we live in seems to be a target for a redevelopment project. The people in debt built their own houses and settled there, so they hold strong rights. So, if the project starts moving and they can hold out until they get compensation from the government, it will become a significant asset. But if they have everything taken by debt collectors now, nothing remains. Therefore, the 500,000 Mool I want to borrow is—”

“An investment, right?”

Burton corrected me. But it sounded kind. Burton stared at me intently.

“That 500,000 Mool investment will transform into a debt of gratitude from many people who will hold rights there after the redevelopment.”

“And you say… that holds more value than a 20% annual return.”

“Yes.”

At my words, Burton gave a low hum.

“So that’s the story.”

“What do you think?”

I asked. I felt a positive response; Burton wasn’t an unreasonable man, and above all, in terms of investment profit and loss, this was undoubtedly a gain. Burton sipped his spiked Irish coffee, held it in his mouth for a while, and swallowed. The words that came out were so cold, you wouldn’t think they followed a sip of hot coffee.

“No.”

“…”

I was stunned and couldn’t reply for several seconds.

“Why!”

“…”

Burton frowned at my loud voice and set down his cup.

“It’s a matter of my way of life.”

Burton said. Does that mean those in trouble should just go ahead and be ruined on their own?

“Don’t misunderstand. I would like to help if I could.”

“Then—”

“But I am Burton Kladwiesen of The Britannica. My assets under management exceed tens of billions of Mool. It’s not on a global scale, but it is a respectable sum. It comes with its own intense pressure. And I must deliver performance.”

I didn’t know what he was getting at. But Burton possessed an aura powerful enough to silence me without needing a reason.

“I must be an investor through and through. Otherwise, I cannot do this job. That is why it is a matter of my way of life.”

“Th-That is…”

“Indeed. What you are trying to do is the kind of work a dull department in a dull bank does. I’m not saying it’s bad work. I don’t think it’s unnecessary. But if I were to do something so lukewarm, I would be ruined in no time. The place where I exist is that kind of place. Think about it. How much do you think we humans spend in maintenance costs just to live on this Moon? It pales in comparison to developed nations on Earth. So, no. That is not my investment. It is not my investment.”

He refused me flatly. I had heard that people who manage massive investments are never swayed by emotion. Possessing a will of steel and testicles of steel, even if the universe were to be destroyed, they would protect their investment performance to the bitter end. Burton was the very incarnation of that.

“Besides, if you aim for Schrödinger Street as well, you should possess that same level of will. An investor must make the best investment conceivable, under the best conditions conceivable, for the best period conceivable. Those are the words of the investor I respect most, a man once called Mr. Infallible.”

He must be talking about the monster with personal assets of over 80 billion Mool. I felt as though I were being crushed by my own smallness.

“So, if you want to save those people, stand up to it as an investor.”

“Time.”

“Hm?”

“There is no time…”

I said, watching the steam rise from my cocoa. The remaining time is one day. Only one day.

“Our funds are 720,000 Mool. But by the end of Monday, I have to make it 1 million Mool. It’s impossible. Even after desperately piling up profits, 10-something percent was our limit. So.”

I looked up at Burton. I didn’t want to admit that my vision was blurry because I was crying.

“So?”

But Burton’s tone was cold. An investor. A successful investor. He is a pro. A pro among pros. I looked down, at a loss for words. It’s impossible. It was a naive thought.

“Impossible? Really?”

But Burton said this:

“Scraping together numbers below the decimal point all day and piling them up? Come now. Since when did you degrade into a minion of the quants?”

When I looked up, Burton was glaring at me with a look that almost seemed angry.

“I saw your final decision in the investment contest. It was magnificent. That right there. That is the essence of a trader. Every single move you made revealed every single one of your thoughts. I remembered my youth and shivered. The failure was, certainly, a failure. But there are bets that you must keep making. That was one of them.”

I was reminded of the times my father used to lecture me while hitting me. I really wondered why I would remember him at a time like this.

“Besides, if you don’t have time, you just have to take a shortcut.”

“…Eh?”

Burton said that and sipped his coffee.

“When I dragged you around and introduced my investment methods, do you remember what I said?”

I desperately racked my brain. I was confident I had memorized everything.

“Yes.”

“Then… let’s see. The building we went to look at. Do you remember the company name on that building?”

“?”

I didn’t know why he was asking such a question. But I answered immediately.

“It’s Ring Tech.”

“Huh?”

And then, Burton suddenly let out a wild, off-key voice.

“Hey now. Are you okay?”

“Eh, ah, huh?”

“Ring Tech is a good company, but the one we went to see was a different company, right? But, what was it… I can’t quite remember… Wait a moment.”

Saying that, Burton rummaged in his jacket and pulled out a small terminal. He tapped the screen to launch something.

“Oh, yes, yes. I remember. Here, here.”

The small terminal was placed on the table. Displayed there was the electronic data of a certain company.

“Good grief, pull yourself together. I rate you highly, after all.”

Burton grinned at me as I peered into the terminal.

“Eh, but…”

“Well now, smelling the alcohol has made me hungry.”

Burton slapped my shoulder, spoke in a deliberately theatrical manner, and stood up. I looked back and forth between Burton and the electronic terminal several times. And finally, the circuit connected in my head. This is investment information.

“By the way, when was the next rain on the Moon? Bad news always comes suddenly… It’s quite a bother. I really wouldn’t want it to come on Monday.”

Sticking out his large belly, he spoke as if complaining about the weather. I was so excited I felt the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. Insider information. This was insider information.

“However, the world is about connections between people. If you have many acquaintances, someone might at least lend you an umbrella on a rainy day. Right?”

Burton winked at me. It was so goofy and didn’t suit him that if I were a woman, I would have definitely fallen for him.

“So, how about a meal? I know a place that serves good fish.”

I stood up and bowed.

“I’m sorry. Today, I can’t.”

“Hm? Is that so. That’s a shame. But, we can meet anytime. Right?”

“…Yes. Um—”

“Oops, is it already this time? I must make a phone call.”

Burton was grinning broadly. I had no words to express my gratitude, so I bowed once more.

“I will… email you again.”

“Yeah, I’ll be waiting. It’s going to rain on Monday. Let them know.”

“Yes!”

I replied, turned to run, and then looked back.

“The money… for the cocoa…”

“Come on. Are you trying to shame me?”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Think nothing of it; it’s cheap.”

His tone was aloof and easygoing. I ran through the elegant interior of the cafe. Many gentlemen and ladies looked at me wondering what was going on, but I didn’t care about their stares. After all, my master stood up on his table and shouted this from the VIP seat:

“Hang in there, youngster! Seize the future with your own hands!”

As a line spoken by a rich man on the Moon to a shabby-looking brat, it was probably the finest article there was. I was so happy my chest felt like it would burst, and I just kept running. I ran without looking aside, got on the crowded train, and wanted to run even inside the train. I ran nonstop from the station to the church, flew through the church sanctuary, and ran into the living room. And then, I said it.

“I’ll show you my way of investing.”

Hagana was wide-eyed, looking completely blank.

On Sunday, both Hagana and I slept. We slept like crazy. We instructed Lisa to shut out everyone who might be anxiously waiting for good news from us. We would decide everything on Monday. For that, we had to sleep and recover our strength. That was the only way. We fell asleep Saturday night, woke up Sunday morning to eat, and fell right back asleep. I wasn’t sure when Hagana had gotten into my bed, but I had let my guard down enough not to care, and Hagana was acting naturally too. We just slept and slept. We slept so much it felt like our melting bodies would become one. So, we should have woken up sometime, but the moment we both opened our eyes simultaneously was at midnight, just as Monday began.

“…”

Hagana and I were facing each other. I don’t know who did it. But Hagana and I held our breaths for just a moment. The sensation against my lips was softer and sweeter than anything else in this world. We exchanged no words. Instead, we knew exactly what to do once we got up, down to the last movement.

“Karman Investment?”

Hagana said while booting up her terminal, sitting in the chair. Maybe Lisa taught her, but she had started tying her hair back when working these past few days. Just that makes her look very mature.

“Yeah.”

At my word, Hagana pulled up the stock information.

“This one?”

I peered from next to Hagana and squeezed out the words.

“We short sell it.”

“…”

Hagana said nothing. Instead, she launched the program and began crunching numbers to support me as best she could.

Burton had pointed to this stock and said it would rain on Monday. And that news of rain comes suddenly. It was undoubtedly insider information; some kind of bad news was going to break regarding this company. Someone of Burton’s stature would constantly hear stories from thousands of people regarding hundreds of companies. Especially since Monday comes after the weekend, it’s prone to having rotten things happen. There are stories like a legendarily brilliant CEO who loved his own products too much, riding a company bike he adored off a cliff to his death. Naturally, the stock of a company that lost such a brilliant leader would also plummet straight to the bottom of the cliff. You never know what might happen. That’s why prices often drop the day before a holiday. Everyone closes their positions out of fear of risk.

“In that sense, it’s the perfect company.”

Karman Investment, as the name suggests, is an investment firm. Securities, real estate, commodities—it felt like they invested in anything that could be invested in. It lacked a solid substance. Because of that, you never knew what might pop out. Annual profits were unstable; posting a massive loss the year after a massive profit, or making huge profits in a row, was common. Naturally, such a gambling company attracted a crowd of gamblers. Even Hagana’s program showed price fluctuations that made your jaw drop in amazement.

“Terrible company.”

“Seems like it.”

“But it’s very sensitive to trading.”

She said this while exposing the beautiful nape of her neck. I smacked my own head, wondering if I was an idiot, and Hagana tilted her head with a “?”.

“If we sell in bulk, I think it will drop.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. It’s just a one-day trade anyway. It just needs to drop for that moment.”

“…But.”

“But?”

“Is this really okay?”

Hagana asked anxiously. If I suddenly came back in high spirits saying, “I know a stock that will drop tomorrow,” anyone would wonder if I was right in the head. Moreover, although I hadn’t received anything explicit, this was undoubtedly based on insider information. But we wouldn’t get caught. There was no way we’d get caught. The world was full of much more blatant, much worse corruption.

I guaranteed it.

“I swear to God.”

Hagana frowned.

“Smile, will you?”

“Imprudent.”

I thought that was rather refined vocabulary for Hagana.

“But, this is going to be tough.”

“Tough?”

“Yeah.”

If the news were to come, would it be first thing in the morning? But that wouldn’t work. It would surely hit the stop-low price just from pre-market orders, and I wouldn’t be able to make a profit. Even Burton knows that much. In that case, it must be coming in the middle of trading.

Normally, it would be best to short with everything we have as soon as trading starts. However, Karman Investment, despite its volatile price movements, has low daily trading volume. The volume was overwhelmingly low compared to the amount I wanted to trade. It was a reenactment of the final days of the investment contest. If I sell in large quantities, the price will naturally drop because there are few buyers. But, for example, if I place a sell order for 700,000 Mool at a price of 1,000 Mool, but there are only 10,000 Mool worth of buy orders at 1,000, my order will be executed against buy orders at even lower prices. When liquidity is low, my own trades move the price, and there was a possibility it would end up right on the edge of the stop-low price. Even more so after bad news comes out. It could hit the stop-low before I even have a chance to sell, leaving me helpless. In the end, logically speaking, I have no choice but to sell patiently, bit by bit.

Despite many such concerns and doubts, time marched on regardless, and the market opened. We quietly placed sell orders so as not to scare off the buyers. If the price was going to crash, it had to happen after we had sold a significant amount. This kind of intuition was something Hagana didn’t understand.

Karman Investment opened at 1,071 Mool and barely moved once trading began. With no news and no major shifts in the broader market, this was to be expected. So, I sold 10,000 Mool and waited ten minutes; sold 5,000 Mool and waited five minutes. In a situation where we didn’t know when the news would break, it was an ordeal that felt like a hand was squeezing my stomach directly.

Hagana was fidgeting next to me as if she needed to use the bathroom. Hurry up. If you’re going to sell, sell more. But I proceeded with the selling cautiously. I spent the entire morning selling off 220,000 Mool. By this point, it was already the highest trading volume seen in the last month. It was likely attracting attention online.

“How much left?”

“500,000 Mool. This is taking forever…”

“…”

However, no news broke during the lunch break, and people were gathering, sniffing out the increased volume. Sizable sums lined up on the buy side, and other parties besides us started lining up sell orders too.

As the afternoon session began, feigning a bandwagon sell-off, I short-sold 70,000 Mool in one go. Like pressing down on elastic rubber, the price dipped slightly, then buying came in and pushed it back up. Since there was no rational reason for the price to drop, the buying was perfectly logical.

Suppressing my impatience and ignoring other sell orders appearing, I sold another 50,000 Mool thirteen minutes later. We still had about half left. Miraculously, the price was holding at almost the same level as the previous day.

It was past 2 PM. If the news was coming, would it be soon? Or would it come right before trading closed? You really never know when corporate news will break. Companies control earnings announcements to some extent; if they want to minimize chaos, they announce after the market closes. However, reporters often scoop the story and leak it without permission, so you can’t rely on that either. That’s how it is even for scheduled announcements. When it comes to something that’s a bolt from the blue, well, only God knows.

I sold another 40,000 Mool. We had crossed the halfway point.

“…It feels strange.”

“Huh?”

“This kind of trading… it’s a first for me.”

I looked up at Hagana’s words. It was the usual living room, but yes, it felt strange.

“I guess.”

“Is this… really trading?”

Hagana asked. Her talkativeness might be because she couldn’t stand the tension.

“Yeah. This is the way of trading I saw in Newton City.”

Buying appeared again, and I sold 10,000 Mool. Other sell orders appeared, and the buying support finally began to waver. The pace might have been a little too fast. I thought for a moment.

“Hey, Hal.”

Hagana called my name, and I looked over. Hagana was staring at me.

“What is it?”

“Are you leaving this place, Hal?”

We’re talking about this now? I thought that clearly, but for Hagana, it might be the most important thing. If so, I couldn’t ignore it here. I nodded while turning my eyes back to the terminal.

“Yeah. Or rather, it’s more like I received this information in exchange for agreeing to go to him.”

“…”

“Panic selling is starting.”

Without shaking off Hagana’s hand, I pounded the keys with my free hand. 70,000 Mool left. Unless we sell this all, there is no victory for us.

The wall at 1,060 Mool collapsed, and the price dropped to 1,055, then 1,050, like a crumbling cliff. It was an avalanche we had triggered. The buy order board grew thin. The guys trying not to get left behind started placing sell orders, scrambling over each other to be first.

“Goooo!!”

I shouted and slammed in the rest as a market order. The price didn’t matter. Just get it executed. Hold the position. That was everything. The numbers on the screen spun dizzily, and then, stopped. 1,042 Mool. Short selling of the entire 720,000 Mool was complete. The average selling price was 1,062 Mool.

It was right after that. The market froze. Not metaphorically, but literally. The order board vanished. Every single buy order disappeared, and only sell orders flooded in, piling up. A Special Sell Quote. A state where no price could be formed.

And then, a red ticker flowed across the top of the screen. Karman Investment: Raided on Suspicion of Massive Accounting Fraud.

Rain. Just as Burton said, a pouring rain had begun to fall.

“…Hal.”

Hagana said in a trembling voice, still holding my hand. The number on the screen was stuck at 864 Mool, indicating the stop-low price. It was the maximum allowable drop for the day. Even so, the sell orders weren’t being absorbed, and millions of shares were lined up to sell. It would drop more tomorrow. Or perhaps, the company itself might disappear.

But that had nothing to do with us. We sold at 1,062 Mool, and held the right to buy back at 864 Mool. The difference was about 200,000 Mool. Our principal of 720,000 Mool had exceeded 900,000 Mool.

“…We won.”

I exhaled and leaned my body deep into the backrest of the chair. Strength drained from my entire body; I felt like I couldn’t move a single finger. Next to me, Hagana wrapped both her hands around mine and pressed her forehead against it. It was hot. Hagana’s body heat, her trembling, were transmitted directly to me.

“We won… we really won…”

I looked up at the ceiling. The stain-covered ceiling of the church. But now, it looked more beautiful than the ceiling of any luxury hotel. We had protected it. Our modest daily life, from this unreasonable world.

“Hal… thank you…”

Hagana’s voice was wet with tears. I weakly squeezed back the hand that was holding mine. I thought I didn’t have a dream in my hands. But this warmth, certainly, was in my hand right now.

You never know where information regarding stocks will be announced. It’s not limited to major news outlets; sometimes it’s announced in industry-specific media, or even at seminars for so-called institutional investors. What they have in common is that wherever it is, the moment it’s announced, it starts being reflected in the stock price. Therefore, if there is unsettling price movement, even if it hasn’t caught on your own antenna, the standard way of thinking is to assume that information has been released somewhere beyond your knowledge.

The selling is intensifying its offensive. Now is the only time to sell out. But I couldn’t move. My hand, grasped by Hagana who should be weak, couldn’t move even a bit.

“It is. Right here…”

Hagana said, looking up. They weren’t dark, lifeless eyes. They were eyes that held her own desire and the intent to seize it.

“I want… with everyone…”

Hagana said, desperately holding back tears.

“To live quietly…”

The lunar surface is a place where humanity can dream the most radical dreams. But there were many who drifted here unable to enjoy even the bare minimum of happiness. Hagana was one of them, and such a girl’s dream is to live quietly with everyone. Just how natural that is, and just how difficult it is—I could call to mind any number of examples just by searching my memory a little.

Surely, Hagana’s mind only has room for a very few people. Her head is stuffed full of mathematics, so there’s almost no room for anything else. The first on that list would be Lisa. And my name was in there, too.

When I looked back at Hagana, she contorted her face and looked down. My face probably had that kind of look. Living together with everyone might be manageable somehow. However, living quietly is absolutely impossible. That was obvious if I recalled the attitude Burton Kladwiesen took when he cut down and discarded my request. An investor isn’t just someone who makes a living by investing. It refers to those who prioritize investing over everything else—those who embody that very way of life.

No matter how ignorant of the world I am, I can clearly see that living a life like Burton’s means difficulties are undoubtedly waiting ahead. Betrayal, conspiracy, anything goes. If I jump into such a world, I don’t have the confidence that I could still bask in the sun in the third-floor garden with Lisa. And I think that is something I must not do.

Being an investor is a way of life. If you want to live a sweet, warm life that smells of milk, this is a path you should never have entered in the first place.

I slipped my hand out from Hagana’s grasp, which I hadn’t been able to shake off before.

“No.”

I said it shortly, just as Burton had said to me. I placed a sell order for 60,000 Mool. The price movement, which had been in a lull, pulsed and dropped again. Repelled by the wall at 1,050, it hit 1,051 Mool.

“I’m going to make a profit here, and then go to Schrödinger Street.”

The stock price edged down, occasionally dropping sharply as if missing a step on a staircase. Since I had put out sell orders totaling 650,000 Mool, at this point, there was already a profit of nearly 10,000 Mool. But frankly speaking, that was pocket change. With confidence, and not as a bluff, I could think of it as pocket change. My consciousness was directed toward the tens of billions, hundreds of billions of Mool I would hold in the future; I stood atop that money and imagined a view no one had ever seen before.

It was just as Burton said. Lending money to people in trouble and collecting interest by selling favors is something a dull department in a dull bank should do.

“Then,” Hagana said.

“Eh?”

“Then, make a profit. At the very least, make a profit.”

Hagana was angry. But I learned for the first time in that moment that being on the receiving end of an angry face could actually make me happy.

“I will. I’ll make a profit.”

I returned my gaze to the screen. In the back of my mind was the cool figure of Burton standing on the cafe table, cheering me on.

“This right here is Schrödinger Street trading.”

Mathematical assists, intuition from experience—we throw it all out the window. Insider trading? No, that’s not it. This is supposed to be the ultimate way of trading, possible only between humans and humans. Hagana’s program is certainly excellent, but there is no room for human judgment in it. It’s cold, sharp, and flawlessly accurate. The humans who use it are stripped of their dignity as humans and forced to abandon thinking.

“…Hal?”

That’s why, even when Hagana suddenly called my name, my mouth was smiling on its own. The stock price, which had been falling continuously, stopped falling and turned to rise. If there’s no rational reason for it to fall, there’s no reason for it to rise either. In a word, atmosphere. Everything is atmosphere, and I inhaled that atmosphere rising from the screen deeply into my lungs.

“We can do this.”

To the bitter end. I still have a sell order for 70,000 Mool in my hand. Buying appears, and the stock price tries to stagger to its feet like a protagonist standing up even after being beaten down. 1,052, 1,051, 1,052, 1,053… In the world of fiction, villains kindly wait for the protagonist to stand up, but reality isn’t like that. Those who fall should be thoroughly crushed when you have the chance. Someone with the same investment philosophy unleashed a merciless strike. A sell order for 100,000 Mool. I could see the faces of the buyers, resembling exhaustion, through the other side of the screen. The stock price reached 1,052, 1,051, 1,050, then easily crossed the fort to 1,049, 1,048. This is now a downward pattern. Bandwagon selling appears. It accelerates to 1,046, 1,044, 1,041. Even without news, we can crush it with selling and get away with it! It was the moment I was about to swing down my remaining weapon with all my might.

“Hal!”

Hagana’s sharp voice stopped my hand, and immediately after, the stock price movement stopped. It definitely hadn’t entered a lull. I knew it the moment I saw it. When an extremely large order is placed during trading, there’s a brief pause to reduce instantaneous large price movements. It was like a scene in an anime where everything goes into slow motion right before a special move is unleashed. And that pause was like a time bomb you know will explode after a delay. Boiling like magma at 1,038 Mool was massive buying. The total was 230,000 Mool, and like a giant meteorite hurtling toward a planet gathering up debris along the way, that amount continued to increase. You coming to sell? Then, we’ll go buy. News about Karman Investment hasn’t appeared anywhere yet. Someone who suspected the selling offensive was just a setup went on a buying spree aiming for a short squeeze. If there are guys who think it will go down, there are guys who think it will go up. That is precisely why a market is formed.

Hagana was clutching my arm tightly. This is different from the investment contest. There’s a mountain of real money at stake here. The stock price surged up with a heavy thud. It came up with overwhelming mass. Since we are short selling, if the price goes up, our profits vanish, and if we’re not careful, it turns into a loss. The guys putting in buy orders were aiming for exactly that situation.

But without even glancing at Hagana, I stared intently at the screen. I wasn’t panicked in the slightest because I had the information from Burton. The buy orders were actually necessary to swallow up all our orders. No matter how much the price goes up, once the rain Burton mentioned falls, it will hit the stop-low. For stocks with a strong gambling element, even trivial information can cause prices to move flashily. Almost certainly, it should hit the stop-low. If that’s the case, the higher the price we short sell at, the larger the profit margin when we buy back cheaply. This is a realm that Hagana, who seeks basis in mathematics and statistics, could never imitate.

With every heavy thud of the price rising, Hagana put more strength into the hand gripping my arm. The price crossed 1,060 and reached 1,065. 1,066, 1,065, 1,066, 1,067—retracing the earlier process in reverse, and at a faster speed than before. It had already exceeded the price we acquired at, and losses were beginning to show. The stock price hit 1,071, finally reaching plus/minus zero compared to the previous day. It was the moment where the intentions of selling and buying, attackers and defenders, were deadlocked. And that moment became the past in the blink of an eye, as the price slipped upwards. Due to the sudden increase in trading volume attracting the attention of many people, the movements became extreme.

I don’t panic. Never panic. But Hagana was different.

“Hal, something’s wrong.”

“Huh?”

“It’s strange. Why isn’t it going down even though we sold that much?”

It sounded like an innocent girl asking, Why do only bad things happen? Hagana is used to misfortune. Used to encountering terrible things. That’s why she isn’t used to looking forward. Looking forward is my role. I answered while looking straight at the screen.

“Of course not, since the information hasn’t come out yet, right? The conditions for selling and buying are fifty-fifty. But since I know this stock will go down, I absolutely needed to sell early. Because of that, it goes down first. But the other guys don’t know I have some information, so they rush to buy in opposition, and it goes up. It’s obvious. Didn’t I say trading is like rock-paper-scissors where you play after the other person?”

Especially for a stock where gambling-loving folks gather. They should be used to speculative movements.

“But…”

Hagana muttered and released her hand from my arm. Then, sluggishly, she started fiddling with her terminal.

“…”

I watched Hagana input numbers into that program and start calculating.

“I told you it’s useless.”

“…But.”

“I told you this isn’t that kind of trade, didn’t I?”

It’s natural to feel pressure when faced with a stock price rising steadily at a speed that could hardly be called slow. But seeing Hagana cling to the program, I harbored a completely different emotion than I had just a short while ago. Seeing Hagana reach for the tool she had been so absorbed in, trusted, and used instead of half her brain, I felt something close to contempt. The program that had been so reliable now looked like an outdated, useless terminal. Hagana clinging to it was just like a girl who relies on horoscopes for everything, not a partner I wanted to trade with.

“Stop it.”

I found it painful to watch Hagana degrade into such an existence, and said it without thinking. However, Hagana replied.

“I have to do what I can do.”

It was a face mixed with anxiety and tension. It wasn’t the face of a cheeky girl just rebelling against what I said.

“The news…?”

It hasn’t come yet, has it? Her reserved tone betrayed those unspoken words, and I kept my mouth shut. It was past four o’clock. It was certainly late, but there was still an hour left.

“Hal, something really is wrong. I don’t understand why the price isn’t dropping. Given this stock’s average trading volume and past data, it should be collapsing.”

“…”

I remained silent, but Hagana pressed on.

“What about the news?”

Asked again, I had no choice but to answer.

“…Nothing yet.”

According to Lisa, Toyama is coming at five o’clock sharp. Apparently, he begged a friendly banker to keep the teller window open and wait for him. The plan was to rush in as soon as trading ended, withdraw all the cash we made, and repay the debt. One hour left. In one hour, everything would be decided.

The moment I thought that, another massive chunk of buy orders appeared, and I heard Hagana gasp. She was staring at the price movement, holding her breath like someone watching a glass teetering on the edge of a table. I could tell as clearly as if I were holding it in my own hands that she was praying: Stop, stop, stop. I was supposed to have total faith in Burton’s words, yet before I knew it, I was clenching my fists, sweating.

Am I an idiot?

Just as I cursed myself, the stock price finally stopped at 1,089.

“…Hey, are we really okay?”

Hagana asked again. She was anxious. While wiping my palms, I retorted.

“Have some faith.”

It was all I could say.

“But the price isn’t dropping. No matter which past period you look at, statistically, when this happens, the result is—”

“What about the margin of error?”

I cut her off just as she was about to start spouting her theories. Rather than looking annoyed at being suddenly interrupted, Hagana looked surprised. That made me realize my tone had been harsh.

“…You said yourself that calculations have a margin of error,” I added, as if making an excuse to prove I wasn’t angry.

“…True, but…”

“Then that’s what this is.”

Besides—though I didn’t say it out loud—Hagana’s program wasn’t perfect. It missed quite often. Especially during the final trade of the investment contest, Hagana’s calculations were completely off. Naturally, there’s always that possibility. If a prediction isn’t 100%, it remains just a prediction, not a divine revelation.

Real money is at stake here. Many people’s lives are at stake. My fate, Chris’s fate, and the fate of all the others. If we fail here, a lot of people will be out on the streets. Just like on Earth, they’ll be oppressed by the strong, stripped of everything they built while gritting their teeth, while only those who took it get richer and fatter. Right now, I was standing my ground for the dreams of many. So why wouldn’t Hagana trust me?

The look of anxiety on Hagana’s face grew more intense. Her furtive glances at me seemed to say at any moment that we should close the position. In fact, by our usual trading standards, we would have stopped trading long ago. The necessary thing to make a profit is simple: don’t take a loss. So, whenever we started losing, we closed out immediately. That way, we minimized losses and protected our countless small gains. But this wasn’t that kind of trade. It wasn’t that kind of trade. Why couldn’t Hagana understand that? I thought with irritation, and then, I suddenly realized.

“…”

When I snapped my head around to look at Hagana, she looked back at me, somewhat timidly.

“?”

I was dominated by a single thought within my chest: No way. Could it be that Hagana is saying this on purpose? This trade carries the dreams of many people. It carries the dream that perhaps, finally, good fortune will descend upon us. And for me personally, it was like a preliminary skirmish to stand at the entrance to Schrödinger Street.

But Hagana is different. Only Hagana had no dream riding on this. Hagana’s dream, apparently, is to live quietly in this church with me, Lisa, and perhaps close friends like Chris. You could say it’s selfless. You could say it’s idyllic. But that trivial dream expressed Hagana’s earnest wish so clearly that I couldn’t even laugh. If so, wouldn’t Hagana think this way? If we fail here, Hal won’t have to leave. If A is B, and B is C, then A must be C. With Hagana’s linear thinking, it was perfectly plausible. It was a childish, clumsy, almost painfully pathetic way of thinking.

Time ticked by moment by moment, passing 4:15. I still held reserve power in my sell orders. If I knew the price would eventually drop, it would be more profitable to let it rise as much as possible before selling. But Hagana seemed to interpret that as my hesitation.

“Hal…”

Hagana called my name. Her voice was anxious, sounding as if she were being crushed. But I pretended not to hear. If I empathized with Hagana’s trivial dream here, sympathized with it, and failed to execute the best investment at the best timing with the best method, then I would no longer be an investor. I wouldn’t be an investor. I stared intently at the screen. I knew painfully well that Hagana was no longer stealing glances, but staring straight at me.

“…Hal…”

“Shut up!”

I yelled without thinking. Hagana didn’t harden her gaze. She had the eyes of a scolded puppy.

“…Sorry.”

I said, returning to the terminal screen. The news isn’t coming. When is it coming? Buying increases, bit by bit. Not yet? Is it not coming yet? Hagana sluggishly operated her terminal. When I stole a sideways glance, the predicted price range was distorted. That prediction foretold a terrible rise. I returned my eyes to the terminal. Indeed, given this atmosphere, the usual me would be heading to buy. But big trades are always like this. To make a huge profit, you have to go against the foolish masses. Just as the act of trading cannot exist without selling and buying, if there is someone making a profit, someone else must take a loss. I’m not wrong. I’m not wrong. The ones who are wrong are the guys who know nothing. I have a brain that thinks. Because I have it.

“…”

I knew without looking that Hagana wanted to say something to me. Time passed 4:30, leaving thirty minutes. The news, where is the news? Even I began to feel impatient. Unable to endure it, I opened my mailer. I pulled up Burton’s address and typed in the text. Is it really okay? I tried to send it, but hesitated. Ping, a light sound rang out at that very moment. It was a sound from Hagana’s program. A familiar sound that rang when the price touched the range specified by the program. It was a sound that had brought us countless profits, and the moment I heard it, I felt like crying. I closed the mailer and returned to the trading screen. And I doubted my eyes.

“Hal!”

Hagana shouted. My world spun.

“Hal, hurry, the trade—”

I didn’t hear the rest of Hagana’s words. The price had jumped. The ping sound rings when it approaches the edge of the predicted price range. But until now, it had always swung in the direction we desired. However, since it’s a range, there is naturally an opposite side. In other words, in the direction of a massive loss.

“…It’s okay, it should be okay… if the news, if the news comes…”

With trembling hands, I grabbed my own trembling hand. I placed the sell order I had kept in reserve, but it was swallowed by buying in an instant. Immediately after, my hand moved convulsively like a hiccup. My own funds, separate from what I was entrusted with by the townspeople and Toyama. Reflexively, I threw that in. I didn’t understand the meaning of that action myself. I didn’t understand, but the stock price rise stopped, and I laughed. The loss stopped at 4%. Besides, this is just temporary; in fact, since I sold at a high price, it should be the first step to an even bigger profit. But, I asked myself. If I truly believed in Burton from the bottom of my heart, I should have waited much, much longer and sold after the price had risen. Why couldn’t I do that? Sitting in my chair, I felt a gaze directed at me from somewhere—my own gaze. My confidence was wavering.

“Time, what’s the time?”

4:45. Fifteen minutes left. The stock price began to rise again. Hagana stood up and grabbed my shoulder.

“Hal! It’s strange!”

“Shut up! It’ll go down, it has to go down!”

“But it’s going up, can’t you see?”

“It’ll go down, it has to go down!”

I yelled, and Hagana flinched. But Hagana picked up her terminal and thrust it at me.

“There’s almost no possibility of it going down! Statistically, such a possibility is—”

“If I had followed your program in the contest, I would have lost, wouldn’t I?!”

I let those words slip out. Hagana looked as if her heart had been pierced, staggered, and dropped her half-raised hips back down with a thud. Every trace of expression completely fell from her face, making her look like a mannequin.

“Dammit!”

Not knowing who I was cursing, I bit my lip and returned to the screen. News. The news. If only the news comes. God. I pray. I prayed. I prayed to God. And then, it was 4:47 PM. Breaking news text appeared on the trading screen. At that moment, my hand moved, trying to pour in all remaining funds, only to remember I had already sold everything. My knees were shaking violently from a mix of impatience, tension, and intoxication that made me feel like I was losing my mind. I made it, I made it in time. The one who was right was me!! I gulped, the red text of the breaking news finished, and the body text appeared. The trading screen froze. As if everyone participating in the trade held their breath, the numbers on the trading screen stopped dead.

Breaking News. Stock Code 3201, Karman Investment.

“Hurry, hurry, next, next…”

I stared intently, unable to even keep my body straight due to the unpleasant sensation that I might wet myself at any moment. And then, the red text flowed out.

Today, Karman Investment CEO Jack Lanny announced a partnership with an investment fund regarding an investment project involved in the Sixth Outer District Redevelopment Project.

“…”

I couldn’t grasp the meaning of the words.

In a press conference, it was stated that the prospect of securing liquidity, which had been a concern, has become possible through new funding.

The reason I couldn’t understand the meaning of the words was that there was no way to interpret them conveniently for myself. I wiped away something—I didn’t know if it was cascading sweat or tears—and looked further at the news.

The funds were provided by Mr. Alan Schwartz, fund manager of the prominent investment fund, Pax Romana. The provided funds amount to 2 billion Mool, forming the core of the redevelopment project…

I couldn’t read past that. I couldn’t even breathe. The stock price had jumped up and hit the stop-high limit. Minus 32%. And that was just for today. If the content of the news was true, it would be limit-up tomorrow, and the day after too. How far would the negative go? If there are no sellers, I can’t buy back. Margin selling is a trade conditioned on buying back at a later date.

I was struck by intense nausea. But I desperately swallowed it down and clicked the news again. That’s ridiculous. It must be some mistake. It has to be a different stock, please let it be so.

I opened the detailed report. And I heard a sound—the kind of sound I imagined a heart makes when it stops.

Photo 1: CEO Jack Lanny and Mr. Alan Schwartz.

The caption said so. But the person in the picture was undoubtedly Burton.

“Ah…”

I didn’t know if I was breathing or moaning. All I knew, all I knew was…

Ping, the email notification sound chimed. Like a trained dog, like a programmed robot, I opened that email. The sender was Burton.

Did you trade with a thinking head?

One short sentence. Did I think for myself? Didn’t I leave the decision to someone else? The truly important decision—didn’t I leave it to someone else? Surpass the machine. Become human. To do that…

“Gkh…”

My vision went dark, and I heard the sound of my own forehead smashing the terminal screen. I had been trapped.

“Hal!”

And then, feeling like I heard Hagana’s voice, my memory cut off there.

Chapter 10

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