A Wall Street Genius's Final Investment Playbook-Chapter 278: The Invisible Hand (13)
After the persuasion was over, Hasiheon calmly set down his phone and muttered:
“Well… I’ve successfully triggered the defection.”
The biggest hurdle was over—but now a new challenge began.
There was one question to solve:
—How do I let the world know Stein has defected?
“It has to make maximum impact.”
His objective was clear: Use Stein’s defection as a catalyst to send Stark-related stocks soaring.
“The higher the stock price, the better.”
Not just for profit—but because the most urgent task at hand was technological acceleration.
“We need to speed up AI infrastructure and hardware.”
The first steps were already taken. Several companies had begun announcing earlier launch schedules.
But promises were one thing—delivering on those promises was something else entirely.
“Even with intent, reality might not cooperate.”
Take Envid, for example. They boldly declared they’d launch their next-gen GPU “Volton” in Q2. But multiple obstacles were already in their way.
Chief among them: TSMD’s production slot availability. Their cutting-edge manufacturing lines were already booked solid by megacustomers like Anple and Qualcomms. There was barely any room left for new production orders.
They barely secured a slot, but to do that, they had to sign an urgent mass production agreement—which came at a steep price.
The upfront cost to secure the initial batch? At least $120 million.
In other words…
‘It all comes down to money, after all.’
But an expansion of capital expenditure on this scale wasn’t something management could simply push through unilaterally. It required formal approval from the board.
And the problem was—that very board was dragging its feet.
“In times like these, with the stock price so volatile, are we really in a position to expand our facilities?”
“Our competitors are catching up fast… Doesn’t that mean we should be even more cautious?”
Ordinarily, the board would never question anything CEO Jackson said. But now? They were inexplicably pushing back.
“……”
Still—he understood where they were coming from. Because they were operating under the same, subconscious rule that governs most publicly traded companies:
— When the stock price rises, the board supports bold decisions.
— When the price falters, the board always leans conservative.
And how was Envid’s stock doing lately?
Recently, macro funds from the Triangle Club had begun shifting their GPU bets from Envid to AMDA and Intil. As a result, Envid’s stock had stalled. That’s why the board wasn’t opening its wallet.
But the solution was clear:
‘Raise the stock price.’
Of course, saying it was easy. Actually doing it? Not so much.
And it couldn’t just go up modestly. That would only prompt the board to say, “It could be a temporary bounce,” and keep their guard up.
What they needed now was full-blown euphoria—irrational faith that ignored cost altogether.
In short, the price didn’t just have to rise. It had to skyrocket—like madness. And it had to look like it had no intention of ever stopping.
And to create that kind of momentum? There was only one way.
‘So… there’s no other option, is there?’
The next day.
As promised, I appeared on a broadcast and finally opened up about Pareto Innovation’s veiled investment in Brazil.
“A Black Swan event? Not at all.”
With that firm declaration, Stein, who was also on the broadcast, visibly relaxed. After all, the greatest threat to his Brazil position—“Black Swan risk”—had just vanished.
“Then why take such a large short position?”
“The market’s overly optimistic. Everyone seems to think that once the president is impeached, everything will be resolved… But I think it’ll take at least a year for any real recovery.”
After the show ended, as I stepped into the waiting room, Stein spoke up.
“Now that you’ve hit your target, shouldn’t you close the short? You’ll be racking up losses if you leave it there.”
His implication was clear: since he’d already switched sides to Stark, there was no need for any more bluffing.
But I just smiled and replied:
“Didn’t I say on air? I’m going to watch just a little longer.”
“You were serious? Brazil’s already showing clear signs of recovery…”
“Markets can rally one day and crash the next. That’s just how they work.”
In truth, this wasn’t a matter of Stein misreading the market. It was the privilege of someone who had returned from the future.
“By May next year, Brazil will be hit with a full disaster set—a massive corruption scandal, nationwide protests, and a plunge in both the stock market and the currency.”
That’s when I plan to close the short. I’ve already published a report on Brazil via Delphi Research, which means their credibility is at stake. And I can’t afford to disappoint the retail investors who followed the “revelation.” If I do, I’ll lose one of my most powerful weapons going forward.
“I’ve made the exit timing clear—one year. They should be able to handle the rest on their own.”
That’s a fair enough reward for them.
Then Stein muttered:
“Still, I knew there was no Black Swan. The fact that I fell for the bluff… leaves a bitter taste. But I guess your talent lies in making people get fooled, even when they know they are.”
His eyes held the bitterness unique to someone who’d folded despite holding a winning hand. Sensing his disappointment, I offered a few consoling words.
“No. If you hadn’t been persuaded, the Black Swan would’ve happened for real. You’re the one who prevented it.”
“What are you saying? Don’t tell me—”
Stein trailed off, eyes slowly widening as he grasped the deeper meaning behind my words.
“Yes. If I had to, I would’ve made it happen.”
It was the same principle as with Greece or China. Brazil was already a fragile house of cards. If I’d jumped on it with an army of retail investors, the collapse would’ve been inevitable.
“If it were a solid house, maybe it would've held up…”
But Brazil wasn’t solid—not in its current state.
“We’re lucky it didn’t come to that. Thanks to you, Mr. Stein.”
I casually pinned a “hero of Brazil” badge on him, but his face remained conflicted.
“…”
After a moment of silence, Stein finally spoke again.
“Putting that aside… I’ve agreed to switch sides to the Stark camp, but… are we sure it’s the right move? OpenFrame’s a no-brainer, but the rest of the LLM market… still feels a bit uncertain.”
He was likely just trying to shift the mood. But I answered sincerely.
“According to my estimates, most OpenFrame suppliers will see a 400% increase in value by year’s end.”
“…”
Another silence. Then Stein forced a chuckle.
“Ha, 400%? Come on… that kind of growth only happens in a bubble—”
“Exactly. A bubble.”
“…”
He stared at me with disbelief. That’s the way of the world: no matter how sincerely you lay your heart out, no one truly believes you.
I calmly met his gaze and continued.
“I believe the AI sector is about to enter a phase of unprecedented growth—something on par with the dot-com bubble.”
“That’s absurd… That kind of thing won’t happen again.”
Well, technically he wasn’t wrong. Even in my past life, the AI boom never reached dot-com levels.
But…
“Just because that’s how it happened before doesn’t mean it’ll unfold the same way this time.”
If there’s no bubble—I’ll just create one myself.
Stein eventually stood in a daze, muttering something about “getting in touch later,” before leaving.
“Is it really that hard to believe?”
I suppose it is. A phenomenon like the dot-com bubble defies conventional logic.
But for me, creating such a storm wasn’t a choice—it was a necessity.
“It’s the most reliable way to force the acceleration of infrastructure and hardware.”
Let’s not forget—my goal isn’t profit. My true objective is to accelerate AI infrastructure and hardware.
The problem? Those two sectors aren’t evolving fast enough.
There are many reasons, but the biggest one was this:
“The investment payback period is just too long.”
From an investor's perspective, a stock that “doubles within a month” is far more appealing than one that “takes years to mature.” But infrastructure and hardware? They’ve always belonged to that latter group. And that’s precisely why they’ve always been sidelined.
So, the idea that came to me was simple:
“What broke that ‘law of delay’ once before? The dot-com bubble.”
Late 20th century. Silicon Valley, on the brink of the new millennium.
“The Internet will change the world!”
That was the rallying cry. Yet in reality, it was a barren wasteland with barely any infrastructure in place. But people believed that whoever secured that infrastructure early would eventually rake in unimaginable profits.
Investors—blinded by the vision—rushed in. Data centers sprouted up like mushrooms, fiber-optic cables blanketed the earth and seabeds.
But this wasn’t a fairytale ending.
“Most of those investments failed.”
The bubble burst before the profits came in. Over-supply crashed asset values. A few companies like GooBle and Amazons who bought the wreckage dirt cheap became the winners. But the vast majority of investors were wiped out.
That—was the true face of the dot-com bubble. Not exactly a pretty picture.
But…
What mattered most wasn’t the end—but the torrential flood of capital that flowed before the bubble popped.
“That’s what I’m aiming for.”
If I could replicate just that process, AI infrastructure and hardware would undergo explosive growth.
“A bubble? That’s fine—as long as I blow it big enough without popping it.”
So I made my decision: I’d benchmark the dot-com bubble. After all—
“Why let such a powerful idea go to waste?”
The dot-com bubble was, at its core, a triumph of narrative.
“The Internet will revolutionize the world!”
That simple, powerful story captivated the world and sent the markets into a frenzy.
So, I’d borrow the same story—just replacing the word “Internet” with “AI.”
We already had symbolic moments like MindChat and AlphaGo to drive global awareness of the “AI era.” The stage was set.
Still, a tinge of uncertainty lingered.
“Will this really work?”
I’d grown used to bringing down companies and governments—but that was a kind of arson. You find the right spot, light the match, pour the fuel—and things collapse on their own.
But this time? It wasn’t arson—it was snowballing. Not destruction, but creation.
And while it felt unfamiliar, there was a thrill in it too.
“I’ve never done this before—not even in my past life.”
I reviewed every piece of the plan and waited for the D-Day. Then came the call:
“Sean! BlackRocks says they’re ready!”
At last—it was time to launch.
A few days later, Stark released an official announcement:
[OpenFrame will officially launch our LLM model, “MindChat,” in Q4.]
They were transitioning “MindChat” from a demo to a full-fledged service. The market response was explosive.
“LLMs have officially entered the commercialization stage! The pace is beyond expectations!”
“That’s right! Until now, Gooble had the lead with early beta deployment of RL, but this announcement turns the tables!”
“And let’s not forget, LLMs are targeting the B2C — consumer — market. The scale of impact is completely different…!”
“Still, don’t get too comfortable! Gooble could soon officially release its RL service too.”
“Ultimately, it’s about who unveils the highest-quality product first… timing will be everything!”
The battlefield had been drawn clearly. In this intense race, whoever crosses the finish line first would become the victor in the ongoing AI war.
So far, it was a close match. Gooble held the lead, but Stark was catching up at a relentless pace.
Then, breaking news dropped:
<Obelisk invests $1 billion in OpenFrame>
<“Was Gooble wrong?” — Stein joins LLM side in a surprise move>
Stein, a key figure in the Gooble camp, was reported to have defected to the LLM side. Soon, his official statement followed:
“We assumed Stark’s late entry meant at least three years before commercialization. But he closed the gap in an instant.”
“Everyone said EV commercialization would take 15 years, but Stark did it in 8. Now, he’s applying the same formula to LLMs.”
Stein cited OpenFrame’s explosive growth and the “Stark effect” as reasons for his change of heart. But the public didn’t buy it.
— “Could there be problems at Gooble we don’t know about?”
— “Did something critical go wrong in beta testing? Or maybe their tech isn’t as solid as we thought?”
Investor anxiety started to spread.
— “Stein’s not the kind of guy to switch sides out of nowhere.”
— “Lots of people followed him into Gooble. Changing sides now means facing ridicule and losing face. For him to accept that must mean he truly believes it’s the right move.”
Within 24 hours, that anxiety turned into numbers:
<Gooble’s stock drops 6% in a day following Stein’s defection>
While that could reflect technical distrust toward Gooble, the real driver of the drop was different: It was the mass exodus of Stein Bus passengers — those who followed his every move with “brain OFF, follow ON” mentality.
— “Anyone know how to invest in OpenFrame?”
— “You can’t. It’s a private company. You need a direct meeting with Stark.”
— “What is this, a stock or a secret society?”
The problem? OpenFrame wasn’t a stock you could hop onto with a click. So how could one bet on the LLM side?
By targeting OpenFrame’s supply chain.
<“This is the only open door” — Capital floods into OpenFrame’s supply chain>
<Envid surges 52% in a day, other suppliers up 35–40% on average>
Previously stagnant stock prices skyrocketed. Early LLM investors erupted in celebration.
— “+513% / My Envid call options just saved my life.”
— “+482%! This isn’t artificial intelligence, it’s a life reset machine!”
— “My friend sold the day before drunk, I didn’t because I was hungover. Life punishes awareness.”
Post after post bragged about massive, real-time gains. Those who stayed in RL, or hesitated on the sidelines, now felt shaken. But even now, jumping in wasn’t so easy:
— “My hand’s on the mouse… should I click?”
— “Hesitating on timing now means missing your life’s timing.”
They wanted to jump aboard — but… just as people raised their hands to finally buy in, anxiety surged:
“What if I already missed the last train…?”
A classic rule in the stock market: Even the best-performing stocks seem to drop the moment you buy them.
But then, good news arrived for the hesitant:
<OpenFrame signs LLM framework licensing deal with Fortune 100 company>
<OpenFrame–AWSS to establish dedicated data center>
Though prices occasionally dipped afterward, each lull was quickly followed by new positive developments. Eventually, even the hesitant began to jump in.
At first, cautiously. But gradually, more boldly.
They slowly began to transform into enthusiastic AI evangelists:
— “If I confess to MindChat now, will it reject me? With profits like this, I’ve caught feelings.”
— “Let’s ride this until AI replaces me! After that, I’ll just ask it for an allowance.”
— “Soon enough, Lord AI will feed and care for humanity. We humans were inefficient anyway.”
— “A future ruled by AI? I’m okay with it. Humans ruling wasn’t that great either.”
Most of these comments were tongue-in-cheek, of course. But underneath the humor lay a collective sentiment:
“The AI-dominated world is already here.”
No one was questioning the narrative anymore. Of course, there was a practical reason for their belief:
“That future better come — my stock depends on it.”
It was a familiar scene. The same happened during the dot-com bubble. Back then, stock prices soared 100%, 200% just by going public. And people lined up, believing the world changed the moment “.com” was attached to a name.
Just like now.
Sure, some tried to stay rational… But staring at skyrocketing charts day after day, it was hard to hold firm.
— “Starting today, my brain is run by LLM in proxy mode.”
— “Logging out of reason, logging in loyalty. Full steam ahead on the AI train!”
— “If you’re going to go crazy, do it on a Rolls-Royce. And these days, you have to be crazy to make money!”
As more passengers boarded, more capital flooded in. That in turn pushed prices higher.
Boarding fueled the rise. The rise fueled more boarding. A perfect feedback loop.
“So far, so good.”
But… two weeks in, that loop began to falter.
— “This really feels like the last train… is there no more fuel?”
— “Even with new good news, the stock’s barely moving…”
— “It’s not a drop — the chart is just daydreaming. It’ll snap out of it! Diamond hands!!!”
— “You’ve got to bend your knees before a big jump! I’m doubling down!”
No matter how good the news, the stock price no longer responded. As the market dulled, whispers spread:
“Is this the peak?”
Some sharper retail traders began analyzing the dаta:
— “Volume’s up, but it’s all tiny trades…”
— “This is retail singing in chorus — the institutions didn’t even unpack their violins.”
— “Maybe it’s not that they never came — maybe they already left.”
The claim that institutions were absent wasn’t entirely true. They were there — but mostly limited to Stein loyalists or a few early-positioned tech funds.
The real heavyweights — traditional capital and conservative pension funds — were still on the sidelines.
But that, too, had been expected.
"No surprise there."
Those who had already been burned once by the dot-com bubble weren’t going to be easily swayed by a sudden price surge. This much was expected — and naturally, countermeasures were already in place.
"Time to start persuading the institutions."
