A Wall Street Genius's Final Investment Playbook-Chapter 161

Normally, when requesting a meeting, it is considered polite to take the other person's convenience into account first.

However, Ackman was different.

[He says he is only available at 4 PM tomorrow. He asks if you could come to his office…]

Not only had he unilaterally set the time and place, but he also demanded that I visit his office in person.

[Should I… decline?]

There was caution in my secretary's voice.

She seemed worried that I might be displeased.

But.

‘Interesting.'

From my perspective, it was nothing but intriguing.

In my past life, I never even had the opportunity to meet Ackman.

Everything I knew about him came solely from media reports.

"It's fine. I'll go there myself."

I readily decided to visit Ackman’s office in person.

There was bound to be useful information to gather from the visit.

Well, there was one issue, though…

‘I need to change my plans.'

Half of my prearranged schedule had just gone up in smoke.

Oh well, nothing I could do about it.

***

The next day.

I had been busy since morning.

My appointment with Ackman was at 4 PM.

Although my afternoon schedule had been scrapped, I still had to complete my morning tasks.

My destination was the University of Pennsylvania Hospital.

The moment I stepped inside, the distinct hospital smell overwhelmed me, sending chills through my body.

‘This feeling never goes away, huh?'

Even though more than a year had passed since I returned to the past, the trauma from my previous life’s hospital stays remained vivid.

Still, I forced myself to suppress my discomfort and strode further inside.

I had only one reason for coming here.

To meet Dylan, the second Russian Roulette patient.

Unlike Amelia, the first patient, his symptoms were noticeably different.

‘Rapid fluctuations in creatinine and IL-10 levels.'

It wasn’t a life-threatening side effect, but it was intriguing enough to catch my attention.

Because that pattern of extreme spikes and drops felt eerily familiar.

‘It’s similar.'

His symptoms closely resembled what I had experienced when I was administered rapamycin in my past life.

Since I no longer had access to my previous medical records, I couldn’t precisely compare the symptoms.

But this was certainly a promising development.

‘Could it be…?'

Dylan might be the same type of Castleman patient as I was.

In other words, he might be a patient who needed a third treatment because rapamycin wouldn't work for him.

If that was the case, I needed to meticulously compare his symptoms with mine and identify the commonalities.

If I could pinpoint specific symptomatic markers, I could preemptively determine which patients would require a third treatment in the future.

With that thought in mind, I began grilling Dylan about his symptoms.

"Have you ever felt as if your heart was dropping suddenly?"

"‘Dropping'…?"

"Like the sensation of an organ being ripped out, repeating every two to three seconds…"

Dylan seemed puzzled by my oddly specific question.

But when I casually added,

"I'm a medical school graduate myself."

"Oh, I see. I didn’t know that."

With that, he let go of his skepticism and began explaining his symptoms more calmly.

"The sensation of an organ being pulled out… That’s an unusual way to put it. It doesn’t hurt, but I do feel something similar sometimes."

For the next twenty minutes, I bombarded him with questions.

As we were about to wrap up, Dylan glanced at my expression and cautiously asked,

"Are these symptoms… common? Are they a good sign, or… bad?"

"That’s hard to say for sure. Right now, I’m just gathering information by comparing past cases."

"Past cases…?"

Dylan repeated my words before suddenly asking,

"What happened to that patient?"

The past case I had been referring to was, of course, myself.

And naturally, I had died.

I had intended to dodge the question, but I never anticipated that he would directly ask about my final outcome.

I was momentarily at a loss for words.

However, Dylan seemed to interpret my brief silence in a different way.

"I see."

He had misunderstood, but in the end, he had arrived at the truth.

Though he wore a faint smile, there was a shadow of darkness in his eyes.

"It’s too early to make any conclusions."

I tried to reassure him belatedly.

To be honest, I still wasn’t entirely certain that Dylan and I were the same type of patient.

The symptoms we shared could simply be side effects of rapamycin, and there was still a chance that the treatment could work for him.

However, as cruel as it was, I had to hope that rapamycin wouldn’t work for Dylan.

Only then could I obtain the data I needed.

…

If things went as I hoped, Dylan would have no choice but to play Russian Roulette with an unknown treatment.

Since it was still in its early stages, the success rate would be low.

Ultimately, what I wanted was his death.

To be precise, I was hoping that his death would provide me with the data I needed to survive.

However…

"You don’t need to make that expression."

When I lifted my head, Dylan was smiling bitterly as he spoke.

"I truly… I can't even express how grateful I am in words. The financial support for the treatment alone is a huge blessing, but for you to care this much, as if it were your own matter…"

As I left the hospital room and walked down the hallway, I stopped in front of a vending machine.

I grabbed a can of cola and let the cold carbonation slide down my throat, slightly easing the discomfort that had built up inside me.

‘…This feels off.'

Every time the Russian Roulette patients treated me like a benefactor and expressed their gratitude, my mouth felt unbearably dry.

I usually had no qualms about lying.

But a single can of cola wasn’t enough to shake off the unease, so I reached for another.

Just then—

"Oh? Sean?"

A familiar voice called out from behind me.

I turned my head to see Rachel standing there, her round eyes fixed on me.

"Sean, what are you doing here…?"

I quickly put on a smile and greeted her.

"It's been a while."

"It really has! More than two months, I think… Did you have plans to come today? I had no idea!"

"Rachel, isn’t today… Wednesday?"

Since it was a weekday, she should have been at Goldman right now.

After all, she was still working there.

Rachel beamed brightly and replied.

"I took a personal day."

…

Investment banks in the U.S. are notorious for overworking employees, sometimes even leading to death from overwork.

Taking a personal day in such an environment wasn’t easy.

But—

‘Well, she's a princess, after all.'

It seemed Rachel was freely enjoying the privileges of her status.

"Are you here to see Jane, too?"

Jane.

She was our third Russian Roulette patient.

With the clinical phase 1 trial officially beginning, more patients were being enrolled, and Jane was one of them.

Originally, I had planned to meet her in the afternoon, but…

"I was planning to, but something urgent came up, so I won’t be able to this time."

"That’s unfortunate. You must be really busy these days…"

"More importantly, what brings you here, Rachel? I heard from David that you planned to notify the patients of side effects remotely."

Rachel had agreed to inform patients about potential side effects, but traveling to Philadelphia every time would be too much of a burden.

So, as far as I knew, she had made arrangements to handle it through other means.

"Yes, I already informed them via Skype. But still, for the first day, I wanted to be here in person…"

She had traveled all this way just to support the patient in person.

Technically speaking, this wasn’t even part of her job responsibilities, but she was passionate.

"If you keep working like this, it’ll be hard to balance both roles."

"Actually, I’m planning to leave the company soon. There’s good news from the gallery side."

It seemed a lot had changed for her during the time we hadn’t been in touch.

"A major patron stepped in, so we might be able to open the gallery earlier than expected!"

The ‘patron' she mentioned wasn’t just a financial backer.

Rachel already had more than enough money.

What she meant was someone with significant connections—someone who ran an art museum in Washington.

She explained that this person had promised to arrange exhibitions for the artists she supported.

As I listened, I had a suspicion.

"The museum you mentioned… Is it the one run by the Meln family?"

"Oh? You know about them?"

Of course, I did.

The Meln family was a well-known old-money family.

They probably valued their connection with Rachel more than her actual project, which was why they made such an offer.

Not that it really mattered.

‘This could actually work out well for me.'

If Rachel used her old-money connections to open her gallery sooner, it could benefit me in multiple ways.

As I was thinking that—

"Oh! Look at the time! Could you wait just a moment? I’ll just pop in to say hi to Dylan."

Rachel said it would only take a moment, but knowing her, she wouldn’t just say hi and leave.

"I'm sorry, but I won’t be able to wait. I have a flight to catch…"

I let out a small, wry smile.

I wanted to hear more, but time was too tight.

Even though my meeting with Ackman wasn’t until 4 PM, I had to be at the airport by 1 PM.

Regular flights had fixed departure times, and security procedures took a considerable amount of time.

Moments like these made me acutely aware of the need for a private jet.

‘Maybe I should at least get a helicopter…'

As I silently grumbled about my lack of a private aircraft, Rachel spoke again.

"I’ll make sure to pass along your feelings."

"Huh?"

She was looking at me with an oddly sympathetic gaze.

Why?

"For Jane. You feel bad that you can’t see her in person, don’t you?"

Wrong.

I was just missing my private jet.

"Sean, you’re really incredible. I come to see patients because it’s my job, but you…"

She even misunderstood my visit as an act of encouragement for the patient.

Wrong again.

My reason for meeting Jane was no different from my reason for meeting Dylan.

I needed to confirm if she was the same type as me and extract data for my own survival.

But, of course, I couldn’t say that out loud.

"Let’s talk more next time. How about we grab a meal when I’m back in New York?"

I cut off Rachel’s words and suggested our next meeting.

If the gallery opening was approaching, it was time to reconnect with some valuable contacts I had neglected.

Rachel nodded with a bright smile.

"Of course! Let’s meet again soon. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure to pass along your feelings."

After parting ways with Rachel, I grabbed another can of cola from the vending machine and drank it down in one go.

Then, I hesitated for a moment.

‘Should I drop by for just a minute…? Should I at least make an appearance in front of the third Russian Roulette patient?'

But in the end, I dismissed the thought.

Leaving after just a few minutes would only give the impression of insincerity.

‘That would be counterproductive.'

Moreover, now was the time to focus.

The meeting with Ackman was fast approaching.

***

At the same time, in New York.

Ackman was engaged in a deep conversation with the portfolio manager (PM) in charge of Herbalife.

"There’s no sign of the defense line breaking?"

"Yes. It’s holding steady at the $50 mark. There are no factors in play that could trigger further declines either…"

Ackman’s brow furrowed.

He hadn't expected Herbalife's defense to be this strong.

Despite raising allegations of a pyramid scheme and presenting critical evidence, and even after the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) launched an investigation, Herbalife's stock had only dropped by a mere $10.

‘If it weren’t for Icahn…'

By now, Herbalife should have crumbled like a domino.

But with a renowned Wall Street mogul standing firmly on the opposing side, Herbalife was putting up a relentless fight.

"So, we’re looking at a long-term battle."

"That’s right."

For Ackman, this was an unpleasant situation.

He was known for his concentrated investment strategy.

Unlike most large funds that diversify across multiple stocks, he focused on fewer than ten.

And unfortunately, his department store investment last year had turned into a complete disaster, making things even worse.

He needed a success to offset that failure, yet now Herbalife was stagnating.

‘Time is running out.'

At that moment, through the transparent glass wall, he noticed two people peering inside.

The PM and trader responsible for Allergan.

"Let’s wrap this up here."

After dismissing the Herbalife team, Ackman turned his attention to the briefing from the Allergan team.

The situation was serious.

Someone had been aggressively acquiring a large stake in Allergan.

"They’ve been making massive position plays daily, sending out strong buy signals. The stock has already risen 6%, and now momentum traders have jumped in, pushing it up even further."

Until recently, this entity had been discreetly accumulating shares through options.

But now, they were blatantly signaling the market, inflating the stock price.

"They’re even willing to take on losses… I don’t understand why they’re moving like this."

It was a perplexing strategy, but one person immediately came to Ackman’s mind.

Ha Si-heon.

"Keep monitoring the stock movements… and also keep an eye on Pareto Innovation."

He was certain they would make a move.

But unlike Ackman, the PM still seemed doubtful.

"Do you really think this is Ha Si-heon’s doing?"

Since the Summit, they had been closely tracking Ha Si-heon’s actions.

They were well aware of his Black Swan strategy and his controversial Ebola investment.

However—

That knowledge only made the PM even more skeptical.

"The Ebola investment was basically a gamble. It turned out well, but…"

If Ha Si-heon insisted on such reckless investment tactics, he wasn't someone worth taking too seriously.

But Ackman thought differently.

"All investments are gambles in the end."

No matter how meticulously one analyzes data, the future can never be predicted with absolute certainty.

The key lies in how one acts in the face of uncertainty.

"Some people hesitate even when they have a 99% certainty. Others will risk everything on just a 1% chance."

Ha Si-heon belonged to the latter group.

He hadn’t just invested in the near-impossible odds of a Black Swan event—he had staked his own reputation by publicly announcing it beforehand.

It was a bet that could have easily turned him into a laughingstock.

Yet, Ha Si-heon’s gamble had paid off.

"But… wasn’t failure far more likely? He was just lucky…"

"Lucky, huh…"

Ackman chuckled.

"In this industry, the most dangerous thing you can underestimate is luck."

Ha Si-heon’s uncanny streak of success was getting under his skin.

He had a strong feeling that their paths would cross even more in the future, and he instinctively knew this would disrupt his plans for Allergan.

‘That is the one thing I must prevent.'

The foundation of any battle is information warfare.

The moves made before the actual fight determines victory or defeat.

For that reason, Ackman had already decided—

He would meet Ha Si-heon in person.

Just then, the conference room door opened, and his secretary peeked in.

"Ha Si-heon has arrived."