Although it was March, the morning air in New York was still cold.
As the commuter ferry crossing the wide Hudson River arrived at the Battery Park City terminal in Manhattan, Rackman, a trader at Lehman Brothers, disembarked among the other passengers.
Commuting from New Jersey to Manhattan was an ordeal; just crossing the bridge could take twenty to thirty minutes due to the congestion.
The real problem, however, was that crossing the bridge didn't an the journey was over.
Once you entered Manhattan, it was fair to say the real hell began.
The roads were cramd with cars crawling along like turtles, often coming to a complete standstill.
To make matters worse, parking spaces were scarce, and daily parking fees exceeded forty dollars.
So might think, Then why not just live in Manhattan instead of New Jersey?
But anyone who knew Manhattan's literally murderous real estate prices would never say such a thing again.
Even if you had the money, Manhattan wasn't exactly the best place to raise a family—fine for a single person, perhaps, but not for soone with a household.
That's why, every morning, helicopters carrying executives from investnt banks and hedge funds—people earning hundreds of millions in annual bonuses—buzzed busily over Manhattan's skyline.
Of course, Rackman, who worked at the major investnt bank Lehman Brothers, wasn't earning a small salary either.
Still, if he wanted to avoid the gridlocked traffic, he had little choice but to take the subway—old, filthy, and full of junkies and the holess.
Fortunately, the commuter ferry made his trip to work relatively comfortable and pleasant.
As he stepped off the ferry, the briny sll of the river mixed with the city's thick exhaust fus, stinging his nose.
Wearing a coat and carrying a briefcase adorned with a luxury brand logo, Rackman walked briskly off the pier and into the forest of towering buildings.
As always, the blaring car horns echoed beside him while he moved through the sea of people. The closer he got to Wall Street, the more n in suits—just like him—filled the sidewalks.
When the traffic light changed, Rackman crossed the street with the crowd and pushed open the door of his usual corner coffee shop.
"Welco."
The waitress in an apron recognized Rackman, one of her regular custors, and greeted him first.
"Good morning."
Taking in the rich aroma of roasted beans—as if cleansing his lungs tainted by exhaust fus—Rackman smiled and greeted her back, pulling his tumbler from his bag and handing it over with practiced ease.
"The usual?" she asked.
"Please," he replied.
"That'll be five dollars and thirty cents."
Rackman took out his wallet and handed her a bill, tip included.
"Just a mont, please."
Smiling, the waitress accepted the bill and turned around to the espresso machine, where she began preparing a strong Aricano, the scent of coffee quickly filling the air.
When Rackman received the now-weighty tumbler, he savored for a mont the comforting warmth and solid heft in his hands.
The coffee inside was like holy water bestowed upon a knight heading into battle.
Especially with the extra shots, it was practically an upgrade to his combat power.
Caffeine is life, he thought.
Among the traders of Wall Street, it was practically a given that caffeine flowed in their veins instead of blood.
"Have a nice day," said the waitress.
"You too," Rackman replied.
With his tumbler confidently in hand, Rackman stepped out of the café.
He then made his way toward the Lehman Brothers headquarters in Tis Square.
The lobby, with its high ceilings and floors paved in expensive natural marble, was grand enough to awe any visitor.
But since he saw it every day, Rackman passed through the security gate without a second glance. Rolling up his sleeves, he checked his wristwatch, then joined the long line waiting for the elevator and rode it up to the trading floor.
When he arrived, he imdiately sensed that sothing was different.
The vast trading floor—filled wall to wall with desks, each equipped with multiple monitors—was already crowded with about thirty employees who had arrived before him.
Normally, before the stock market opened, everyone would calmly go through their routines: checking trends in the European and Asian markets or scanning the latest news to prepare for the day's trading.
But today, things were different. Small groups had gathered here and there, whispering among themselves, while others sat at their desks, brows furrowed, searching frantically for sothing on their computers.
The unusually tense atmosphere made Rackman frown. Setting his tumbler and briefcase on his desk, he turned to his colleague sitting nearby—Charlie Dietz, a close friend—and asked,
"What's going on with everyone?"
Charlie, still seated, looked up at him with wide eyes.
"What? You haven't heard?"
"Heard what? Did sothing happen overnight?"
Charlie grabbed a folded newspaper lying on his desk and handed it over.
"Take a look at the interview printed there."
Rackman furrowed his brow, unfolded the day's edition of The Wall Street Journal that Charlie had passed him, and spread it open.
There, taking up nearly an entire page, was an interview accompanied by a black-and-white photograph of Seok-won—one of the hottest nas on Wall Street.
"What the hell is this…?"
Rackman's eyes widened as he read the bold, heavy headline printed across the top of the page.
[Eldorado Fund CEO Park Seok-won Warns of Market Collapse Amid Excessive Dot-Com Frenzy]
The title was so sensational—and chilling—that Rackman couldn't hide his shock. He looked sharply at Charlie, who was still seated.
"'Market collapse'? What kind of nonsense is that supposed to be?"
Charlie leaned back in his chair, eting Rackman's glare.
"You think so too, right? Even with the Fed raising interest rates, the NASDAQ keeps breaking new record highs every day. There's no way the market's going to suddenly crash now."
"That's exactly what I'm saying."
But despite his words, Charlie's face remained tense.
"Still… even though everyone's saying the market's going to keep rising, there's this uneasy feeling in the air."
Rackman, now sensing what was behind it all, frowned.
"Because the one who said it is Chairman Park Seok-won?"
Charlie nodded, as if to say exactly.
"Park Seok-won isn't just anyone. You know that. From his legendary bet on the British pound to his moves in xican bonds, the Nikkei trades in Japan, and even the Asian Financial Crisis—he's read every market trend perfectly and made bold investnts without a single failure. Ever."
"Yeah, that's true," Rackman admitted heavily, unable to deny it.
"On top of that, he was one of the first to foresee the coming Internet revolution. He bought shares in Cisco, invested in startups like Netscape and Yahoo, and hit massive jackpots when they went public. He was the biggest beneficiary of the dot-com boom. And now he's calling it all a bubble and saying it's about to burst. Of course people are shocked. Everyone's calling it nonsense, but deep down, they're uneasy. I know I am."
No one understood Park Seok-won's achievents—or his almost uncanny investnt instincts—better than the traders of Wall Street.
That was exactly why none of them could dismiss his words lightly.
Rackman was no exception.
"...Tch."
Clicking his tongue in irritation, Rackman asked sharply,
"What exactly is his reasoning for claiming the bubble's about to burst?"
Charlie straightened his posture, his tone turning serious as he began recounting what he had read in the interview article.
"He says the current stock market surge is the result of two things combined—excessive optimism about the so-called Internet revolution and an overwhelming flood of liquidity."
"…"
"But as you know," Charlie continued, "the Fed has started tightening its monetary policy. With liquidity—one of the main drivers of the rally—drying up rapidly, he says the first warning light has co on."
Rackman frowned, countering imdiately.
"There's not a soul on Wall Street who doesn't know rate hikes are bad news. But the indexes aren't falling—they're still soaring."
Charlie ignored the objection and raised two fingers.
"And the second reason he gives is this: while the Internet is indeed a revolutionary innovation that could improve productivity and justify higher valuations in the future, that's a long-term process. Right now, he says, investors are pouring excessive expectations into companies that still haven't figured out how to actually make money."
"Everyone knows dot-com companies are in the red. People invest in them for growth, not profit."
"I agree," Charlie said. "But according to Park Seok-won, when the S&P 500's twelve-month forward P/E ratio has shot past 25, and the cyclically adjusted P/E ratio has exceeded 44, it's undeniable proof that the market's in a bubble."
He wasn't just fearmongering about a potential crash; he backed his warning with precise figures and a solid logical argunt—enough to leave even the skeptics montarily speechless.
Still, like most traders on Wall Street, Rackman was firmly convinced that the dot-com boom would continue—and Park's warning only made him more defensive.
"I've been hearing rumors since last month that Eldorado Fund dumped all their dot-com holdings and went short. Maybe he's trying to stir up fear and drag the market down after taking his position first."
Charlie sighed, leaning back in his chair and lacing his hands behind his head as he looked at Rackman's scowling face.
"Maybe. Honestly, I almost wish that were the case."
After all, Charlie—just like Rackman—was heavily invested in dot-com stocks.
And not just the two of them. Most traders on Wall Street had portfolios stuffed with tech shares.
So when soone like Park Seok-won started talking about a bubble collapse… the thought alone was a nightmare.
"Honestly, everyone knows the market's gone up too much," Charlie groaned. "But after hearing Chairman Park Seok-won's warning, people want to lock in their profits and play it safe. The problem is—they're terrified that if they sell now, the stocks they dumped will just keep climbing. It's driving everyone crazy."
He ran his fingers roughly through his hair, his frustration obvious.
In a market that refused to pause—where the indexes were hitting new record highs day after day—selling your positions wasn't easy.
Especially for traders earning massive salaries; they had to deliver results to match. If everyone else was posting big gains while you lagged behind, you could be cleaning out your desk by the end of the day.
That made it even harder to step off the roaring train of the market rally.
"What's the higher-ups saying?" Rackman asked.
"They're just as rattled as we are," Charlie replied. "The execs are holding an ergency eting over the article right now."
Only then did Rackman notice that his team leader—who usually arrived before everyone else—was nowhere to be seen.
"When the market opens today, it's bound to have so kind of impact," Charlie said. "So what are you going to do?"
Rackman frowned deeply, thinking for a mont before replying.
"If I sell now and the market keeps rising, I'll be the only one left behind. I'll hold for now and just watch how things unfold."
"Yeah… I guess that's the only thing we can do," Charlie sighed.
In truth, it was the best move under the circumstances. The rest of their colleagues would likely make the sa choice.
Sitting back in his chair, Rackman stared down at the Wall Street Journal—at Park Seok-won's photo and the headline interview—and couldn't shake the unease tightening in his chest.
"To shake all of Wall Street with just a single interview… Chairman Park Seok-won really is sothing else."
***
It was late at night, the darkness thick beyond the living room's floor-to-ceiling windows.
Yet Seok-won hadn't gone to bed. He sat alone, listening to Chopin's Nocturnes on an LP record while sipping a glass of whiskey.
Then ca a low hum — vrrr — the sound of his phone vibrating.
Opening his eyes slightly, he reached for the phone on the table and answered the call.
"Hello."
[It's , Boss.]
At the sound of Landon's heavy, subdued voice, Seok-won asked calmly,
"Has the March CPI been released?"
[Yes, it was just announced.]
"Judging by your tone, it didn't co out well, did it?"
[It rose by 0.7%, significantly higher than the expected 0.5%. It's the largest increase in five years.]
As if he had anticipated it all along, Seok-won showed no sign of surprise.
"What's the market reaction?"
[The mont the CPI numbers ca out, futures for all three major indexes dropped sharply.]
"That's only natural," Seok-won said. "Concerns about inflation are fueling fears that the Fed will make a steep rate hike."
Landon swallowed dryly before asking,
[Do you think this will be the signal that triggers the crash you ntioned?]
"We'll find out soon enough," Seok-won replied quietly.
But despite his calm tone, deep down, Seok-won was already certain—
the bubble had begun to burst.
TL/n -
The CPI asures how much the prices of everyday goods and services change over ti. It's like a "thermoter" for inflation.
Item Price in January Price
Bread $2
Milk $3
Gasoline $4
Movie ticket $10
Item Price in December
Bread $2.20
Milk $3.30
Gasoline $4.40
Movie Ticket $11
Total cost in January: $2 $3 $4 $10 = $19
Total cost in December: $2.20 $3.30 $4.40 $11 = $20.90
CPI calculation:
CPI increase (%) = (20.9 - 19)/19 = 0.1 = 10%
This ans the CPI rose by 10%, or in other words, it now costs 10% more to buy the sa basket of goods and services.
CPI reflects cost-of-living
Used by governnts and central banks to asure inflation.
If CPI goes up, your money buys less than before.
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