ebonymovies Chapter 285 : The Invisible Hand (20)
Chapter 285 : The Invisible Hand (20)
9 p.m., Morgan Library on Madison Avenue.Normally, it would have closed at 5 p.m. and stood empty, but tonight, black sedans began arriving one by one.
The members of the Triangle Club, who had rented out the space for the evening, were showing up.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been here.”
“Seven years, isn’t it…?”
Originally, this library was the private study of the legendary financier J.P. Morgan.
It was a kind of sanctuary, imbued with the long history of Wall Street.
The Triangle Club had always rented this place whenever they welcomed a new member.
That alone showed how they saw themselves.
To them, the Triangle Club was not just an investment circle or a social network.
It was a bloodline continuing the great history of finance.
In that sense, members entering this place usually carried pride in their eyes—but tonight was different.
Some faces looked unusually grim.
Tightly sealed lips, frozen expressions.
They were the ones from the Macro faction, who had tried to checkmate Ha Si-heon, only to be humiliated in return.
“You all look like you’ve aged a bit.”
At that moment, White Shark spoke, glancing at their haggard faces with words of comfort.
But while the tone was one of concern, his mouth stretched into a grin reaching almost to his ears.
“Ha! Didn’t I warn you a dozen times never to go on air with that Ha Si-heon guy? Of course, back then, my words must have sounded like the ramblings of a washed-up old man. Tsk, tsk!”
Inside, their anger was boiling, but the Macro members had no words to refute him.
Back during the Epicura incident, they had loudly called for White Shark to be expelled from the club.
And yet, now they too had been publicly humiliated in front of the entire nation.
“Well, well! I was caught off guard because I had no intel on Ha Si-heon, but you fellows? Didn’t you all watch not just me, but also the Ackman case and the Yuan War with your own eyes? Hmph. I just can’t understand. What on earth were you thinking?”
As White Shark ruthlessly prodded at their wounds, Ackman casually joined in.
“I was curious myself. It wasn’t even a one-on-one like with us. Six of you piled on him all at once, and yet you all got knocked flat…?”
Still, these jabs from White Shark and Ackman were just the prelude.
Compared to what came next—direct mockery from Ha Si-heon himself—they were nothing.
“Oh, everyone’s here already. Did you enjoy the food I sent over?”
Ha Si-heon greeted a Macro fund member as soon as he entered.
The man’s face turned pale.
The reason was clear: this was the very same man who had once argued with Ha Si-heon in a public debate, saying, “If a restaurant had one case of food poisoning before, people would actually be more careful, so it might be safer than others.”
“Since this gentleman prefers such ‘safe restaurants,’ I’ve been making sure to send meals from them to his office regularly.”
Ever since that day, Ha Si-heon had been sending fifty servings of food from restaurants flagged for hygiene issues straight to the hedge fund’s office every Friday.
No wonder the man’s face flushed red and blue in turn.
But before he even had time to recover, Ha Si-heon turned to his next target.
“Ah, you’re here too. Are you enjoying the smartphones I sent you?”
This was the man who had once sparred with him over whether AI or smartphones were safer.
Ha Si-heon had “gifted” him thirty units of the exact smartphone model that had caused battery explosions.
The moment Ha Si-heon finished, the man’s face also stiffened.
For someone of his stature, being openly mocked to his face like this was something he hadn’t experienced in decades.
And so, as Ha Si-heon recounted one by one the many taunts he had thrown at the Macro faction…
At last, the club president entered the room.
“Let’s move to tonight’s agenda. The decision on Ha Si-heon’s admission.”
He moved the proceedings along quickly.
“Ha Si-heon’s original investment strategy was based on the growth of the entire sector caused by the AI war between Stark and Gooble. He had promised an IRR of 64% within six months. But the actual results…”
The secretary turned on the projector.
The screen displayed the performance of Ha Si-heon’s investment idea.
The figure was a staggering… 649%.
Even though they had known it already, seeing it again made the number feel absurd.
Individual investors might sometimes see 1,000% returns when betting tiny sums, but large funds were different.
Managing massive amounts of capital meant taking positions that wouldn’t move the market prices too much, and inevitably investing in blue-chip stocks.
But blue chips rarely soared like that.
And yet—649%?
It was an unheard-of figure.
Even during the dot-com bubble, no fund had broken 400% returns.
Ha Si-heon feigned modesty.
“It wasn’t my doing. I expected 64%, but thanks to the help of existing members, the returns far exceeded expectations. I didn’t see this coming either.”
On the surface it sounded humble, but the subtext was clear: ‘I was aiming for 64%, but thanks to those who tried to trip me up, I made ten times that—so really, I should be grateful to you.’
The president made a formal declaration.
“At the very least, he has proven results that surpass what he originally claimed.”
So long as no other issues arose, his acceptance was certain.
“Anyone opposed to his admission, speak now.”
Then, a Macro member cautiously raised his hand.
“This discussion may get sensitive, so I’d like the outsider to step out for a moment.”
It was a brief expulsion aimed at Ha Si-heon.
The club had its traditions, and since he was not yet a member, he could not stay.
The others knew exactly what the subject would be.
Once Ha Si-heon was escorted outside, the Macro turned back to the members.
Then he spoke a familiar word.
“Do you all really want to see that man wield MESH?”
MESH.
It was the massive shadow capital operated by the Triangle Club.
If Ha Si-heon became a member, he too would gain the right to manage that capital.
A figure from the Macro faction spoke with a serious face, trying to persuade the others.
“Visible capital always comes with restrictions. But with such ‘visible capital,’ even shackled and under constant surveillance, Ha Si-heon still managed to ignite an AI Cold War under the eyes of the entire world. If that man were to wield MESH—shadow capital he could swing freely without limits—then what do you think would happen?”
Silence filled the conference room.
No one could quite say why, but everyone there felt an ominous sense they couldn’t shake off.
‘If we hand such enormous capital to Ha Si-heon, wouldn’t that be like unleashing an uncontrollable monster on the financial markets…?’
But soon came a rebuttal.
It was Ackman.
“That sounds like a very strange argument. Summed up, are you saying we shouldn’t admit him because his ability is too outstanding?”
White Shark chimed in as well.
“Even if we concede, for the sake of argument, that admitting Ha Si-heon might be dangerous… what about the alternative? If he passes the test but gets rejected anyway—wouldn’t that be even more dangerous?”
Again, silence fell.
Even his mockery of the Macro faction had already shown who he was.
This was not a man accustomed to rejection.
He was someone who never forgot even the smallest grudge.
If they stripped him of his rightful chance at membership, they would only be giving that uncontrollable monster a reason to bear a grudge against the club itself.
“It would be safer to meet him regularly, at least to hear his thoughts and interests and prepare accordingly. If he seems ready to stir up another storm, we might even sidestep it. But if we let him loose in the wild, with a reason to see the entire club as his target…?”
Ha Si-heon not only commanded his ant army but, through the presidential election, had become a kind of icon.
During the campaign, wasn’t the word most often used to describe him “national treasure”?
Would it really be wise to exclude such a figure from the club for reasons that couldn’t even be justified?
“Then, let’s proceed to the vote.”
The result came quickly.
“By twelve to six, Ha Si-heon is now a new member of the club. It’s been a while since we welcomed someone new. Let’s greet him with applause.”
And so, once Ha Si-heon was officially accepted, the briefing on MESH was given.
But Ha Si-heon didn’t look surprised.
He had already heard roughly how the system worked from Ackman.
His interest lay in one question only.
“When will I get my turn to manage it?”
“At present estimates, it will likely be in 2021.”
2021.
At that, Ha Si-heon frowned.
“I’d like to move it up by about two years.”
But then his follow-up questions began to sound strange.
“Is there ever a case where the rotation changes or gets moved up?”
“There are no changes in rotation. Unless an existing member leaves or is replaced…”
“So if an existing member were replaced or forced to leave, then it would move up, correct?”
Ha Si-heon nodded and continued.
“In other words, if the fund managed by the original member were to collapse due to a sudden massive redemption, or if that member got embroiled in some nationwide scandal, would their membership be revoked? Or if they were treated as little better than a traitor to the people? Then surely, to preserve the club’s honor, they would have no choice but to step down.”
But every one of his questions carried a dangerous undertone.
As if he were saying he might try each of those things, one by one, to move up the order.
The members silently asked themselves once again.
Did we really make the right choice?
***
The dates don’t quite match.
Ackman had told me earlier that MESH’s operation schedule was around 2019.
That would have been the perfect card to play during the COVID crisis.
But now it was off by about a year.
Still, it wasn’t a big problem.
At worst, I could simply bankrupt a few members ahead of me in the line.
Either way…
With matters settled, Pareto Innovation returned to business.
The moment I stepped into the office, someone spotted me and shouted.
“Oh? Sean! You’re here!”
It was Dobby.
I let out a silent sigh.
Naturally, with the AI bubble swelling endlessly, the people at Pareto had completely lost their minds.
Well, the profits weren’t ordinary.
And of course, they weren’t about to let such results pass without celebration.
Whenever the returns hit another 100%, they held a ribbon-cutting ceremony.
And now…
“For today’s glory—”
That’s when Gonzalez approached, holding something out.
It was a hazmat suit.
For a moment I didn’t understand.
But then, seeing the stage set behind him, it all became clear.
A black cloth backdrop.
Dry ice spread all around.
And a massive, lumpy white balloon floating in the middle.
On the banner hung at its center were the words—
It was a play on WSB’s expression for a stock skyrocketing—“going to the moon”—combined with the metaphor of the AI war as a space race.
And what is the culmination of the space race?
Mankind’s “moon landing.”
It seemed Gonzalez intended to recreate it with the hazmat suit.
“For the hope of humanity!”
Gonzalez once again urged me to put on the suit, but I declined.
“I’ll delegate it to someone else.”
A trader eagerly volunteered, and they carried on with their little celebration.
And so, as grand BGM thundered through the room…
The trader appeared, not in a spacesuit, but in a hazmat suit.
He walked forward slowly, exaggeratedly, step by step, as if he were in zero gravity on the moon.
Meanwhile, someone else grabbed the mic and gave commentary.
“This is one small step for man, but a giant leap for Pareto Innovation!”
“We… move for the peace of investors all around the world!”
“In the name of Pareto, we declare this moon to be the property of Sean’s followers everywhere!”
Good grief, they sure know how to play.
Almost against my will, my head turned toward the culprit behind it all.
Gonzalez, of course.
There was only one person who would waste money on such nonsense, staging it at such a needlessly high quality.
It didn’t take a detective to figure that out.
I thought about it for a moment…
But honestly, I couldn’t find a reason.
Other funds deliberately hold motivational seminars.
And here was a guy spending his own money to boost morale and team spirit.
Why stop him?
Resolving that much, I returned to the CEO’s office and called for my secretary.
No answer.
So I went back out into the chaos to look for her…
At first, when she had come with me, my secretary Nicole had kept a professional demeanor.
But now—
“To the moon! No, no, that’s not enough! To Mars!!”
She too had been swept up in the madness, chanting with the same glazed look as the others.
But then…
The moment she spotted me, her face froze in embarrassment, as if she’d just snapped out of a trance.
Anyway, back in my office—
“Have you arranged the meeting with Gooble?”
This was a task I had assigned her.
But at my question, she looked uneasy.
“Well…”
“Did they refuse?”
“Not exactly. They say it will be difficult unless you give a reason.”
“A reason?”
“Yes. They’re asking, ‘Why suddenly request a meeting now?’”
In this AI race, I had been on the opposite side of Gooble.
In fact, the current AI bubble had effectively turned into a nationwide movement of “Protect Ha Si-heon and Next AI,” earning overwhelming public support.
LLMs had already become the mainstream, regardless of pure technical superiority.
So for me, a central figure of the LLM camp, to suddenly request a meeting with Gooble—of course it would seem strange from their perspective.
But my request was purely out of necessity.
Ultimately, to advance AI, a model that integrated both would be necessary.
And for that, we needed to build our RL capabilities.
Naturally, it would be best to get help from Gooble, who had been steadily researching RL.
The question was, would they agree to help us?
“I have a good proposal.”
Well, that part would depend on how well I could persuade them.