CH 26
Jeonghikan had nothing to show for his efforts.
The 4 million won in his bank account was all he had.
Feeling embarrassed, Jeonghikan pursed his lips. The man chuckled lightly before asking.
“You studied hard, but you don’t have money in your pockets, do you?”
“……Yes.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“I couldn’t save money because I was paying off debts.”
“Debts? How much?”
“300 million won.”
Jeonghikan explained his family situation.
Middle school graduate. A deceased father. 300 million won in debt.
The man listened intently to Jeonghikan’s story, then slowly nodded.
“You’ve been through a lot.”
“I don’t want my family to suffer because of money anymore. That’s why I want to become rich. It might seem like a trivial reason to you, sir.”
“No. That’s a good reason too. At first, I thought you were just a money-hungry brat, but now I’m intrigued.”
“…….”
The man quietly stroked his chin, then flicked his fingers.
“Alright. You might already know this, but I’ll teach you the basics.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Paying off 300 million won in debt is no different from earning 500 million.”
“Huh?”
“Do you know the magic of compound interest?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then you should know. Earning 500 million is easier than paying off 300 million in debt.”
The man was right.
Being in debt meant repaying both principal and interest.
Spending money on interest meant losing opportunity costs. Unless taking debt for business expansion, any other reason was pure loss.
The man sipped his coffee.
“You’re 25?”
“Yes.”
“If you paid off 300 million from nothing at 25, you’ve got what it takes. But since you work here, you can’t run a business, right?”
“Would working nights interfere with business?”
“Of course. You’d fail to handle emergencies. Gone in one shot.”
Jeonghikan nodded. The man continued.
“Running a business means sacrificing your time. Freelancers work 24/7—that’s why they’re ‘free.’ They have no weekends.”
“I don’t plan to rest on weekends.”
“Good mindset. Entrepreneurs or freelancers shouldn’t rest until they’re established.”
“Yes.”
“From now on, focus on two things: build seed money while creating automatic and semi-automatic income streams.”
“Huh?”
But that’s three things?
Jeonghikan scratched his head. The man laughed heartily.
“Haha! Not two—three. My mistake. Three things!”
“Ah, yes.”
“For semi-automatic, write a book or start a YouTube channel.”
“Why semi-automatic?”
“Once created, they earn passively. Writing is hard, but once published, buyers provide steady income.”
“Ah.”
“Same with YouTube. Upload once, views keep coming. One effort, continuous earnings—that’s semi-automatic.”
Jeonghikan understood immediately.
“Automatic means investments. Money grows whether you like it. Ideally, build a business system, but you can’t run one now.”
“Yes.”
“What’s the core rule of stock investing?”
“Don’t lose principal?”
“Correct. How to avoid that?”
“Find stocks with deep moats—barriers others can’t breach.”
“You’ve read books, huh?”
The man smiled softly, sipping coffee.
“Deep moats, right. Invest in companies with unique tech.”
“But they’re hard to find.”
“Nonsense. Check the news. What’s trending now?”
“Semiconductors, secondary batteries, bio, AI.”
“See? You know. What’s hard?”
“Too many sub-sectors. Semiconductors alone have memory, non-memory, wafers, fabs, fabless, foundries…”
“And?”
“Secondary batteries… raw materials, cathodes, anodes, separators, solid-state batteries, precursors, copper foil, and so on. There are so many.”
“You know a lot. Analyzing that must be the real skill, right?”
Jeonghikan wore a blank expression.
It was difficult to analyze, and it moved unpredictably depending on social issues, making it even harder.
Noticing this, the man smiled warmly and said,
“You’re doing well. Keep studying like that.”
“But… I don’t know what else to study or how. No matter how much I study the correlation between semiconductors and AI or secondary batteries and the IRA Act, I can’t predict even an inch ahead in stock prices.”
“That’s because you’re trying to see just an inch ahead.”
“Huh?”
“It’s because you’re trying to invest everything at once. You need to do dollar-cost averaging.”
“But… then the returns will drop.”
“What’s the basic principle of stocks I told you at the beginning?”
Jeonghikan felt like he’d been hit over the head with a hammer.
“Don’t lose your principal…”
“Right. So what you’re saying is that you’ll take on more risk for higher returns? Greed is gambling. And gambling? It means you have no buffer when losses occur.”
Jeonghikan let out a short sigh.
It was the most basic and obvious thing, but human greed didn’t flow naturally.
The man raised the corner of his mouth and continued.
“Even companies with deep moats don’t always see their stock prices rise. There are always variables, and institutions, foreign investors, big players, and various media can induce panic selling.”
“Yes. That seems true.”
“That’s why you need to dollar-cost average. You have to constantly map out scenarios. If you pick good stocks, just this method alone will ensure you never lose money. Strangely enough, all losses start from greed.”
Jeonghikan nodded slowly as he listened to the man.
The man crossed his arms, organized his thoughts, and then looked at Jeonghikan and asked,
“What is economics?”
“Are you asking for the dictionary definition? Goods necessary for human life…”
“No. What do you think economics is?”
“…I don’t know.”
“I think it’s psychology.”
“Psychology?”
“Above economics is sociology, and above sociology is philosophy. So what is philosophy?”
“Is there a clear concept that defines philosophy?”
“I think philosophy is also psychology.”
The man said with a serious expression.
“Ultimately, if you understand human psychology, you’ll see people and money.”
“…….”
“If you know what sells to people, what they care about, you can run a business, right?”
“True.”
“Stocks are the same. You have to leverage human psychology.”
“But when retail investors flock in, stock prices usually fall, don’t they?”
“There’s one difference. You have to buy stocks before they become widely known. Buy when no one’s paying attention to stocks that will attract interest.”
That’s the hard part…
Seeing Jeonghikan’s dissatisfied expression, the man snorted and asked,
“Thinking short-sighted again?”
“…….”
“Look further. If you believe a stock will rise and the current price is reasonable, buy without hesitation. In installments, of course.”
“If I do phased investing… how much should I put in initially?”
“If you plan to invest 100 in that stock, start with 15. Then adjust based on your scenarios.”
Scenarios?
Jeonghikan swallowed dryly and asked,
“What kind of scenarios?”
“Additional buying points. If a buying opportunity comes, add another 15. If it drops further, invest 30 according to the next scenario. If it hits rock bottom after falling endlessly? Then pour in the remaining 40.”
“…….”
“Ideally, you shouldn’t reach the 40 stage. If you do, it means you bought at the peak initially. That situation only arises when everyone’s rushing in.”
“I see.”
“You bought without any analysis, research, or predefined exit points.”
“I’ll remember that.”
The man’s confident demeanor exuded ease—not the arrogance of wealth, but the calm of explaining simple truths.
Jeonghikan stared at him and asked,
“Then… no diversification?”
“Don’t put all your eggs in one basket. That’s the saying, right?”
“Yes. Your advice didn’t mention diversification.”
“Diversification isn’t wrong… but some fools buy 30 stocks just because they heard ‘diversify.’”
A “tray” means 30 stocks?
The man grimaced.
“That’s idiocy. Could you possibly know all those companies you’re investing in?”
“Good point.”
“Investing on a hunch? That’s gambling, not investing.”
“How many stocks should I hold? Is 10 safe?”
“You want to get rich, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Then why buy 10? Are you made of money?”
“…….”
“If you spread yourself that thin, you won’t have funds for phased investing. Holding cash is also a strategy. Drop the pressure to invest every penny.”
Jeonghikan nodded. The man spread his fingers.
“Four. That’s ideal.”
“Only four? Isn’t that too few?”
“If you have 100 million, split it into 25 million per stock—then phase within each.”
“…….”
“At minimum, four for 100 million. Fewer if you have less.”
Jeonghikan nodded silently. The man sighed, as if dissatisfied with his own explanation.
“Honestly, if your capital’s small, avoid spreading it thin. Just save until you have at least 300 million.”
“I need 300 million first?”
“Ideally, but most people get antsy even at 30 million. Do you have 30 million?”
“……No.”
“Then save. Never dismiss hard-earned money.”
Jeonghikan massaged his neck.
“This… turned into an investment consultation.”
“Haha! Helpful? It’s nothing, really.”
“Very helpful. Thank you.”
“Glad to talk money for once. Pity we couldn’t dive deeper.”
“What business did you run before?”
The man leaned back in his bar chair, smiling faintly.
“Just a small company.”
“Running a company must’ve been tough. Any regrets?”
Jeonghikan subtly probed his life. The man gazed at the ceiling, then chuckled dryly.
“Regrets? I let go after closing my eyes. A forced brake on my runaway life.”
“…….”
“Clearing my cluttered mind felt… liberating.”
“But… wouldn’t you have lingering attachments? Shares, children’s futures…”
“Pfft!”
The man burst out laughing, then awkwardly admitted,
“Well… awkward to say, but I’m still a bachelor.”
“What?”
“Haha! Work consumed me—missed my chance!”
He must have a family, Jeonghikan thought. The man placed both hands on the counter.
“Not that I’m childless.”
“Huh?”
“Twenty-five, in fact. Twelve daughters, thirteen sons.”
‘Is this some American-style thing?’
As Jeonghikan blinked, the man laughed heartily.
“What’s on your mind?”
“No wedding… then… your children…”
“Must they share my blood?”
The man smiled faintly and began his story—one that revealed his true self.
