A Wall Street Genius's Final Investment Playbook-Chapter 106

White Shark’s declaration of defeat sent shockwaves through the financial world.

The head of Shark Capital, who had reigned as the undefeated legend, had stepped back without securing even a single board seat…

Perhaps this event was the beginning of a seismic wave that would reshape the course of all activist funds in the future.

[A total defeat, to the extent of not securing even one seat. Doesn’t this clearly demonstrate Goldman’s strategic superiority?]

[That’s an overstatement. This was merely a fluke. A one-time incident caused by the unexpected actions of the CEO combined with public sentiment—it won’t happen again.]

[No, I disagree. The rapid rise of activist funds has made proxy battles fiercer than ever. Corporations are also becoming more experienced and are now better equipped to defend themselves.]

Speculation and analysis flooded in regarding the cause and impact of the event.

Was this just a coincidence, or was it a precursor to a tectonic shift?

If it was the latter, other activist funds would need to rethink their strategies from the ground up.

“Which one is it…?”

Given the gravity of the situation, every investment bank and hedge fund on Wall Street was desperate to uncover the truth, as if searching for buried treasure.

“You have connections at Goldman, right? Go dig up whatever you can—now!”

To uncover the truth, they had to get close to Goldman’s employees.

Among them, loose-lipped associates became prime targets.

As a result, for a while, Goldman associates were treated like VIPs at every bar on Wall Street.

“Oh, the White Shark case? There’s no way that was a coincidence. That was definitely Pierce’s doing.”

“He’s a monster who’s never lost a deal, which is why they call him the Lich King… Actually, I once made a bet with him at work.”

The associate boasted, and the hedge fund analyst’s eyes gleamed.

“Not a coincidence? Then what kind of magic did he pull?”

“Hmm, well…”

In truth, even employees from other departments didn’t know the full details.

But deep down, the associates had a vague hypothesis, one they weren’t entirely sure of themselves.

“Maybe… it was the work of the Unicorn.”

“The Unicorn?”

“There’s this freak in our firm with an 80% hit rate.”

Hearing this, the hedge fund analyst frowned.

He had come to uncover the truth, but now he was being fed ridiculous nonsense.

Then, what followed was even more absurd.

“They made over 600% profit during the Genesis incident.”

“Come on, that was just a lucky guess.”

The analyst dismissed it without much thought—until the associate blurted out something unexpected.

“That Unicorn? It’s that guy! The Shark Hunter!”

“The one from the broadcast?”

This time, the analyst’s eyes widened in shock.

Like everyone else on Wall Street, he had seen the show featuring Ha Si-heon.

The memory was still fresh.

At first, it seemed like an unfair fight.

A mere analyst—a young Asian one at that—going up against White Shark?

It was a brutally lopsided matchup.

No one had any expectations, which made the twist that followed all the more shocking.

White Shark was the apex predator of Wall Street.

For an ordinary analyst, just exchanging words with him should have been a privilege.

Yet, that young Asian man stood his ground without a hint of intimidation.

With a tongue as slick as oil, he relentlessly pressured White Shark until he was left speechless.

The result? A one-sided victory.

Of course, in hindsight, the situation had overwhelmingly favored the analyst.

Race-related issues were an incredibly sensitive topic for white executives.

But regardless of the circumstances, seeing someone in their own position land a blow on a top-tier fund manager was oddly satisfying.

That broadcast had already been hailed as the most legendary episode of the year.

Even the analyst himself had replayed the clips numerous times.

“That guy! You saw him, right? He’s not normal—he’s a freak!”

It was hard to believe.

“No way. They probably brought him in because he’s a smooth talker. There’s no way a low-level analyst designed the entire strategy.”

“You just don’t get it! That guy? He doesn’t take orders from anyone above him! I’m telling you, it was him! That insane lunatic…”

Then, like a flood, stories about Ha Si-heon poured out.

“He told an old-money heir that ‘hunting is like bringing a gun to a zoo’…”

“He went all-in with $26.8 million on a single stock.”

“He used that to open an unofficial fund, and guess what? I managed to get a spot recently. My returns are already up over 80%.”

The stories were so unbelievable that they almost felt entertaining.

“If it’s him, I believe it! It had to be him!”

Ha Si-heon was a runaway train, completely out of control.

The associates at Goldman firmly believed that this madman had charged forward and ultimately dethroned White Shark.

“No way, that’s impossible.”

Of course, outsiders didn’t believe it.

But on one thing, they all agreed.

“That guy’s a lunatic.”

That very Ha Si-heon was truly insane

And so, a vivid and striking image of Ha Si-heon gradually took root in their minds.

***

The shareholders' meeting had concluded without incident.

While Pierce had briefly stepped out to greet some guests, CEO Whitmer suddenly approached me.

In his hands was a small box.

“A gift. I’m not sure if you’ll like it, but…”

When I opened the box, a watch was revealed.

It wasn’t just any watch.

It was the Patek Philippe Reference 5270 Perpetual Calendar Chronograph.

A timeless masterpiece, the pinnacle of mechanical engineering.

Its retail price? Around $180,000.

Converted to Korean won, that’s approximately 250 million.

How do I know this in such detail?

Because I owned this watch in my past life.

The chronograph’s design was the epitome of elegance. The gold appliqué numerals rested beautifully on the off-white dial.

The moon phase display at the six o’clock position and the intricate sub-dials at twelve o’clock formed a perfect harmony, exuding a noble grandeur.

Through the sapphire crystal case back, the movement’s intricate structure and exquisite finishing could be admired.

Every detail bore the mark of a master craftsman.

This was a work of art that embodied Patek Philippe’s relentless pursuit of perfection.

“Thank you very much.”

I suppressed my joy as I spoke.

The moment I put the watch on, its pleasant weight wrapped around my wrist, bringing a sense of comfort and stability.

It felt like shedding tattered old rags and finally donning a proper outfit.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Whitmer’s words made me quickly adjust my expression.

I must have been too transparent in my delight.

That’s when I realized I had forgotten to say the obligatory polite response.

“But… is it really okay for me to accept such an expensive gift?”

Granted, it was amusing to say this while already wearing the watch, but it was better than not addressing it at all.

After all, I was just an analyst.

This was a gift I should have felt burdened to accept.

However, Whitmer simply smiled warmly.

“Of course. You saved my life. Not only that, but you’ve ushered Epicura into a new golden age.”

Well, if I chose not to be modest, everything he said was true.

I had brought him loyal customers, elevated brand recognition, and even transformed him into a figure akin to the Martin Luther King and Steve Jobs of the restaurant industry.

“Really… thank you.”

His voice carried a hint of emotion.

He was looking at me with an embarrassingly sentimental gaze.

It was slightly uncomfortable…

But I couldn’t entirely blame him.

Epicura was like a child to him.

Not only had I safeguarded his CEO position, but I had also propelled his "child" toward unprecedented success.

He had every reason to be grateful.

Still, I decided to maintain some humility.

“Oh, it wasn’t just me.”

“If it wasn’t you, then who was it?”

“Your role was significant as well. Without your willingness to take the gamble, my strategy would have remained just an idea.”

That was the truth.

It took courage for Whitmer to act on the words of a low-ranking analyst like me.

“Thank you for trusting me.”

“Thank you for giving me something worth believing in.”

As the conversation reached its natural end, Whitmer hesitated.

Rather than leaving, he glanced around before leaning in slightly.

“Are you planning to stay in finance?”

It seemed like he was about to make a recruitment offer.

But I answered firmly.

“No. I’m planning to launch my own hedge fund within the next six months.”

“Six months? At your age…?”

A flicker of surprise crossed Whitmer’s face.

However—

“I’m confident. If you don’t believe me, that’s fine.”

I smiled as I spoke, and after a moment, he grinned back.

“Make sure you reach out when the time comes.”

Of course, I would.

Whitmer would undoubtedly become one of my first investors.

I didn’t know how much he would invest…

But more important than his capital was his loyalty.

If, someday, my hedge fund faced scrutiny or doubts from investors—

Whitmer would be the first to defend me.

That alone made him a valuable asset.

As I said, I had turned him into something of a legend.

The Martin Luther King and Steve Jobs of the restaurant industry.

When Whitmer spoke, his words carried a different weight from an ordinary CEO.

If he vouched for me, social justice advocates and supporters of movements like BLM would listen.

He was far more effective than a hundred scattered associates.

“Well then, until next time.”

***

Back at Goldman after a long time.

As I typed away, my gaze drifted to my wrist.

There sat a masterpiece that I could never tire of looking at.

‘Now that I think about it, is this my first watch in this life?’

Among all the adjustments since my regression, the hardest to accept was the loss of wealth.

The $470 million I once enjoyed now felt like a distant dream.

The luxurious life I had lived with that fortune…

A Small Island in the Caribbean

Scattered villas.

My private helicopter…

All of it was now nothing more than a distant memory.

They say money doesn’t bring happiness?

What nonsense.

Money may not be happiness itself, but it grants an incredible amount of joy and freedom in life.

And I had once lived completely immersed in that bliss.

But what about in this life?

Even after securing a fortune of $100 million, I still couldn’t spend freely.

Half of it—$50 million—was already gone, invested in clinical trials.

The rest was being grown toward my ultimate goal: $400 million.

Even after making nearly $200 million in profits, luxury shopping was still out of the question.

Which made this chronograph my first luxury watch in this life—and for the foreseeable future, my only proper watch.

As I admired its craftsmanship once again, I caught sight of Dobby from the corner of my eye.

"I'm trying to decide on the design for the deal toy. What do you think?"

A deal toy—a kind of trophy commemorating a successful deal.

We had to come up with a concept and send it to the manufacturer…

Every design Dobby showed me featured a dying shark.

"Wouldn't it make more sense to use imagery related to Epicura?"

"Nah, that's boring! And we need to leave proof of this legendary achievement! Just pick one!"

"Hold on, me too!"

"Why don’t we just vote on it?"

Dobby’s antics had already drawn a crowd of associates.

At this point, I had become their undisputed hero.

The analyst who took down White Shark.

"Not this one—how about this?"

One associate held up his phone and played a YouTube video.

It was titled "Orca Hunting Great White Shark."

‘Not this again…’

Orca.

One of my new nicknames.

In Korean, "범고래" sounds fairly friendly.

But in English, it's "Killer Whale." Killer.

I had only recently learned that orcas actually hunt great white sharks.

They ram them from below, flipping them over to induce tonic immobility.

Then they suffocate them and surgically extract their livers—like master surgeons.

An intelligent and methodical execution.

That was the comparison.

And since orcas are black, it seemed fitting for a black-haired Asian.

For the record, this nickname wasn’t confined to Goldman.

At any bar near Wall Street, people would approach me, calling out, "Killer Whale!"

Even at a convenience store yesterday, someone had asked hesitantly, "Are you… the Shark Hunter?"

It wasn’t my favorite nickname…

But it was still a hundred times better than something like "Kitty."

Besides, when thinking about the future, it wasn’t entirely a bad thing.

The company under the Castleman Foundation that David and I founded would be burning money on unprofitable ventures.

At some point, the sharks would smell blood and swarm in.

They’d start meddling, demanding we stop wasting funds and allocate capital differently.

But if the company’s largest shareholder was **the Shark Hunter?**

They’d have to think twice before making a move.

So, I decided not to reject the nickname.

Reputation had its uses.

Of course, this wasn’t the end goal.

All of this was merely preparation for the real war.

Remember.

The true target is Theranos’ $10 billion.

The battle with White Shark was just to earn the right to meet Theranos’ board members.

Now that I had that right, it was time to move toward the real hunt.

‘First, let’s arrange that meeting.’

I immediately called Raymond.

Now—the real game begins.