– Vrrr!

The computer gave off a strange whirring sound as the fan spun, spewing heat. Around the time I finished about a billion dollars' worth of options trades, the machine finally gave in—unable to withstand the hot summer weather and days of nonstop abuse.

"Tsk. You couldn’t handle that? Pathetic."

– Thunk.

I gave the CPU a light kick and sighed. I’d have to use another computer for the next batch of contracts.

"Hey, lend me your computer for a sec."

"Huh? Uh... sure..."

One of the associates blinked, then silently stepped aside.

What was he even doing here? He should’ve been promoted to VP by now, but he kept getting entangled with rookies. It was becoming a problem.

"Hold on. Is there no VP managing this team right now?"

"Not at the moment. Why?"

"Well... I showed up to work but didn’t really know what I was supposed to be doing..."

I frowned.

This guy was a rarity. What made him rare was that he somehow survived as an associate on Wall Street while being this clueless.

Judging from his looks and mannerisms, he definitely gave off the vibe of some cloistered heir who’d spent his life holed up in his room.

Ah.

I gave a faint chuckle and tilted my head.

"Wait, are you a quant?"

"...Yeah."

Makes sense. He probably skipped the analyst step and started directly as an associate. Instead of the typical A to A track (Analyst → Associate), he must’ve come straight in post-grad.

We were supposed to have a separate department for that, but we’re short-staffed right now... Sorry about that.

"What was your degree in?"

"Math. PhD in statistics."

Figures.

He’s probably from a rich family too. That handsome face, the polite demeanor—it all screams pedigree. Suddenly, Alpha Fund’s elite status feels very real.

"But... didn’t you go through employee training? They usually cover everything there."

"...I joined just after the last session ended. I guess I missed it."

Ah, right. We don’t normally hire quants as full-time staff yet.

A conversation with Ha Yeong-il from about a month ago popped into my head.

‘By the way... LTCM’s been recruiting new grads lately. Would it be okay if I picked up a few promising ones?’

‘Great. I’m going to need some quants to support me soon. Don’t skimp—poach anyone good.’

So Ha Yeong-il brought this guy in and then forgot to train him? Why... Oh.

‘All the directors probably kept bugging him for attention, so he didn’t have the time.’

Yeah... okay... That’s on me.

No wonder the poor guy got assigned the seat next to mine.

***

– Clatter.

I quickly munched down the breakfast sandwich I had in my mouth and focused on the screen.

‘Stronger push than expected. Should I throw in more funds or just wait until expiry...’

Dividing up 10 billion dollars across the board wasn’t easy. Sure, I could profit even with a rough strategy, but I wanted maximum efficiency. And that... was annoying.

But I couldn’t slack off. Looking up efficiency charts before rolling gacha in a mobile game was just common sense for a smart player. This wasn’t any different for me.

"Gray, toss this out for me, will you?"

"Huh? Uh, okay."

The new recruit blinked between the trash in his hand and my face.

"What, should I call you Charles instead? Or... maybe Charles oppa?"

"...Just call me Gray."

His face flushed bright red for reasons I could probably guess. Still, he kindly took the trash for me. We’d exchanged names earlier, so I had a good idea of what was going on.

A 24-year-old PhD associate—he probably assumed I was about his age, or older.

I hadn’t hidden my age when I joined Alpha Fund, so when we introduced ourselves, I gave my real name and background. Realizing he’d just been toyed with by a girl six years younger probably stung a little.

Or maybe... he fell for me at first sight. That’s plausible too.

– Clack.

"Mm. This one’s not accepting contracts yet... Hong Kong’s still on hold..."

"Um... excuse me."

"What. Don’t talk to me, I’m busy."

Busy was an understatement. If I weren’t working, I’d probably be messing with him just for fun—but right now, he was just another distraction.

It looked like Ha Yeong-il remembered our conversation and dumped this clueless newbie on me. Still... I’m someone who keeps work and play separate.

Gray hesitated, then glanced at my screen and asked,

"This... Unless I’m mistaken, these contracts are worth at least several billion dollars, right?"

"Sharp eye."

– Whirl.

I turned my chair to face the newbie and rested my chin on one hand.

"So, what? Is there a problem?"

"Isn’t this too much money?! Is this even allowed?"

"Why wouldn’t it be?"

Strictly speaking, no—it’s not allowed. But I can do it because I’m me.

– Creak.

I scooted my chair closer and stared directly at the blond, blue-eyed Brit.

"...Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because you’re handsome."

‘Old-money aristocratic family, PhD before 25, clearly brilliant...’

Aside from being a socially awkward nerd, he was perfect. No wonder Ha Yeong-il recruited him.

After silently sizing him up, I gave a nod and tugged at his sleeve.

"Hmm, you should try some hands-on experience while you’re here. You got the files, right?"

"..."

Blushing, Gray gave a tiny nod of confirmation.

Tsk tsk. No confidence at all. I’ll have to add “no experience with women” to his list of weaknesses.

***

After the morning shift, I rearranged my schedule and decided to grab lunch with the newbie associate.

No, we didn’t go out to some cozy restaurant and have a heart-to-heart. We just ate sandwiches the analysts had brought up right there in the office.

I was worried he might find Wall Street’s fast food-style lunch culture uncomfortable, but he handled it fine—must’ve gotten used to it in grad school.

"So, your dad told you to try life in the real world, and that’s how you ended up at a hedge fund?"

"Yeah, something like that. Y... Yoo Ha-yeon, what about you? Judging by your age, ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) did your parents recommend you too?"

A question about whether I was a parachute hire. It could’ve been insulting to some people, but Charles Gray didn’t seem to mean it that way.

In aristocratic circles, pedigree is just assumed. Even here, it’s normal to get in through connections.

"My parents both died when I was young."

"...Sorry."

I gave a soft laugh. That reaction never got old.

"Still, I’ve got my background. My grandfather owns Korea’s top company, and I’ve got a very close connection with this fund’s founder."

A very, very close connection with Yoo Ha-yeon, yes. Mhm.

"Seriously? I heard Alpha Fund had an Asian founder, but... it’s actually true?"

Gray’s eyes widened.

– Shh.

"That’s a fund secret. Don’t say anything, alright? You know all directors and above are kept confidential here."

"Ohhh, that thing. Got it."

Apparently, he understood. Ours wasn’t the only fund with a secrecy policy, after all. But at least we weren’t as extreme as Renaissance Technologies.

When you’re operating with massive capital and leverage, having your positions exposed is no different than being stripped naked and thrown into a public square.

"Alright, lunch is over—back to work. I’ll give you some money too, Gray. Try designing a portfolio."

I dropped five hundred million dollars into Gray’s account and gave him a friendly pat on the back.

His eyes twitched, and he suddenly shook his head, waving his hands at me in disbelief.

"Wait, hold on. As far as I know, you’re an associate. Same as me."

"Yup. And?"

"Isn’t this... like, above our clearance? Where are the VPs and directors? Even if they’re in a meeting, an associate holding this much money is—"

So he finally caught on.

If he were a complete idiot, it would’ve been more fun. Shame.

"Hmm... hold on."

I rummaged through my email. It should be here somewhere...

Ah, found it.

[Associate Yoo Ha-yeon has successfully led the Korea-related contracts and achieved a 70% return on investment. She is hereby promoted to VP...]

It was full of formal nonsense, but the message was clear.

"Not anymore. Please call me VP from now on."

"..."

The British bumpkin blinked at the email.

"What? Junior training is the VP’s job, you know. Shouldn’t be that surprising when you think about it."

I stuck my tongue out a little and smiled playfully.

***

"Now I get it. No wonder you seemed way too competent for an 18-year-old. That was quite the trick. Haha. Anyway, where’s Associate Yoo Ha-yeon, then? Actually, wait—what’s your real name again...?"

"Huh? No, I am Yoo Ha-yeon. Eighteen years old, associate until yesterday, VP today. I’ll probably get promoted to director next month."

I said it like it was nothing, clicking through Excel to calculate profits.

Thanks to other teams releasing tons of dollars, the exchange rate held steady, and I—who only dealt in options—cleaned up.

"Aha~ good day for profits. I put in 10 billion and got back 1 billion—daily ROI of 10%. Hope tomorrow’s like this too."

"...Is it always like this around here? Wait, don’t tell me—if director-level titles are secret, then there are like five more hidden titles above that?"

"Wall Street’s all about performance, right? Just think of it as me being competent. Also, we’re backloading some of the credit to match my upcoming title."

"Title...?"

He looked at me like he was completely lost.

I gave a small smile and poked my chest with my finger.

"I’ve got a meeting with the Korean government soon. Can’t exactly send an associate or VP to meet with the Minister of Finance, can I?"

It was September 1996.

Before 1997 hits, I need to secure a seat at the table. If a title is the cost of sitting at the head—it’s a cheap price.

"How could that even—"

– Click.

I cut him off and turned back to the screen.

"Wait, Gray. Hold on..."

– Ping.

Another contract had just reached maturity. Factoring in the amount invested...

Yep.

Just earned another billion dollars.