Chapter 225: Minus Oil Price (4)
February 21, 1998.
8 hours before WTI futures expiry.
-Tak.
“Mission accomplished.”
I patted Seo Ji-yeon’s head as she bowed to me.
“Well done. About four people, huh. Even if one drops out midway, that means we can recruit three. You weren’t tailed in Houston, were you?”
“Hehe, of course not. Besides, it’s a legitimate job offer.”
Seo Ji-yeon tilted her head into my hand with a silly smile, just like a puppy wagging its tail at its owner. It’s usually an insult, but since she likes it, I guess it’s fine.
“Still, be extra careful. Once they’re in Korea, it’s my territory, so it’s fine—but in the U.S., there’s still plenty to watch out for.”
This is exactly why broad, shallow local power is important.
Korea is basically my private domain now. The infrastructure already in place through Daehwa Group functioned like veins, and I had injected enough money into them to effectively wield the nation’s power.
An heiress with the power of the state... feels good.
-Hhmhm.
Pleased with myself, I smiled.
“Here, look. Guess how far crude oil futures have dropped.”
“When I checked earlier it was at minus 12 dollars...”
When she looked at the screen I held out, Seo Ji-yeon’s eyes went wide.
[-$20]
A whopping minus 20 dollars.
Considering it’s been a while since it broke past minus 10, this means it’s now twice as far below the original price. Losing all the money you put in—and then twice more on top of that—there’s no way Houston’s high-nosed researchers could hold out.
Oh, well... obviously, not everyone holding oil futures is some biotech researcher like them. Those are rare.
But I don’t need the rest of them. If they’re not working on the tech I need, then too bad. Otherwise, they shouldn’t have set foot in the futures market at all.
Unlike during the IMF crisis or the moratorium, I didn’t feel any guilt. This was purely a matter of personal choice.
-Flop.
Seo Ji-yeon flopped onto my bed and rolled over.
“But why now, of all times? This isn’t exactly the best period for biotech research... You could have recruited them legally any time, so pushing them like this seems kind of strange.”
“Because I’m going to do secret research. Security has to be airtight. If I don’t put a leash on them like this, I can’t trust people.”
I glanced at her face. She’s the type to put the leash on herself, but most people aren’t.
“...What kind of research? Wasn’t it lung disease? I thought you were preparing for that, especially with the chairman’s hospitalization... your family’s lungs are famously weak.”
“Oh, it’s immortality research. Eternal life... that’s the right way to put it.”
“...”
Seo Ji-yeon looked at me like I was Qin Shi Huang searching for the elixir of life.
“...Well, like I’ve said before, I think aging is a curable disease. Or, to use a more refined term, anti-aging.”
There are already theoretically immortal lifeforms in nature. Take the immortal jellyfish—primitive, easy prey with a short life expectancy in the wild, but the fact that such an organism exists at all is fascinating.
“Honestly... ugh. I’m worried. I can see this tragic future where you get old and desperate to stop aging, doing all sorts of ugly things...”
Uh...
I don’t get old.
If I were a normal human, sure—like she says, I’d probably end up living an ugly final chapter.
But I’ve already overcome aging. This tech is for others, not me.
-Rustle.
“It’s fine. I don’t even want to live forever. Just... 200 or 300 years would be enough. That’s about how long a turtle lives, right?”
“Ah...”
I no longer want to be the only one left while everyone else fades away.
-Clap, clap.
“Alright! Enough about something that won’t happen for ages. You’re still young, right? Si-hyun, who’s already in her mid-thirties, is probably fretting—but I’ll pass the message along to her.”
“Huh?”
I shook my head playfully.
“Tell her to stop struggling to stay young and just grow old gracefully—that’s what you meant, isn’t it? My, my... I didn’t know my Ji-yeon was this wicked.”
“No! I—I didn’t mean it like that! Don’t twist my words, Miss!”
Seo Ji-yeon flailed her hands in a panic.
“Hee. Then you should’ve just nodded quietly.”
“Ehhk.”
Poke, poke.
I jabbed her in the stomach with my index finger.
It’s all for her own good, so I feel a bit hurt when she says mean things.
***
I might have played it off lightly, but crude oil futures dropping to -$20 was a very serious matter.
7 hours before expiry.
“Minus 22 dollars! This is—this is panic selling! It will go back up. This situation absolutely can’t last long!”
That was the same line I’d been hearing since yesterday... no, since last month.
For an ordinary Wall Street trader who still hadn’t dumped their oil futures even as prices hit -$24, it was the last scrap of hope ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) they could cling to.
He shouted for another 30 minutes before finally slumping his shoulders and mumbling,
“...Alright. Fine. How much? Yoo Ha-yeon, Director? I’ll sell you my rights at 25 dollars a barrel.”
Naturally, I’d take those rights in exchange for receiving another $26 per barrel.
Tch. If only Tiger Fund had held out this long too.
“Good choice. But let me correct two things. First, I’m not a Director, I’m a Managing Director. Second, the price isn’t $25, it’s... $26... no, $26.5... $26.8...”
“J-just give me the papers to sign already!”
—Rustle.
In his rush, the number written down came out as $26.9.
Tch. I wanted a clean $27.
Eh, I’ll be generous.
“Here, since you came early, I’ll round it for you.”
I scribbled over it with my pen and wrote $26.
“Oh, thank you. Thank you...”
He bowed repeatedly before leaving the room.
Feeling satisfied, I greeted my next guest with a smile.
“Next? We start at $27 now. Try to convince me to take your oil.”
“...”
“Hm, if you hesitate now, you might be in trouble.”
Tilting my head theatrically, I glanced at the clock on the wall—6 hours left until expiry.
The asking price was already at $28.
Not that it really mattered.
No one on Wall Street was buying oil futures except me, so the number was meaningless.
***
3 hours before expiry.
—Phew.
In Alpha Fund’s Wall Street office, I peeled off a layer of clothing and drank cold water.
My throat moved, and droplets slid down my collarbone into my cleavage.
“Ugh, entertaining people is exhausting.”
The new hires helping me averted their eyes. At least Charles, being used to me, came over to help organize the papers.
“Three hours left. Think you’ll be fine?”
“Hm? Oh, you mean if it’s fine not to work?”
I grinned and waved the stack of papers in my hand.
“Of course. Thanks to my hard work, I’m already done.”
The major Wall Street clients were mine to handle; the smaller fry were left to the other staff. An MD working in the field like this was unusual in itself.
This time, I’d only gotten personally involved because so many big names were entangled.
“...You think the price will go up?”
“It won’t. Well, maybe in the last 10 minutes before expiry it’ll rise a little—but still stay in the negatives.”
This negative oil price crash was fundamentally different from the 2020 incident, so the panic selling was drawn-out and leisurely. Daehwa Securities’ futures team had a rough time with it.
The point was, I couldn’t be sure myself.
That’s why I’d been taking people in and buying futures for hours.
-Tak.
“Phew. Dizzy. Guess I didn’t sleep enough...”
Smile.
“...Move over a bit.”
I draped my arm around his neck.
“Walk me to my room?”
Tap, tap.
After a few pokes, Charles half-closed his eyes and pushed me away.
Tch. No fun.
“Fine, just bring me some caffeine.”
“I thought you were going to take a nap?”
Gray smirked at me. I pouted and sighed lightly.
“As if I’d sleep in the middle of an event like this. Just joking. Ah, thanks for the coffee.”
I half-downed it, eyes wide, fixed on the moving chart.
Like fish flopping on dry land, in this market stripped of liquidity, oily suckers were dripping red and blue tears onto the order book.
.
.
.
Three hours later.
February 21, 1998.
WTI futures hit a low of minus $42, closing at minus $22.
For the record, the contracts I’d bought at minus $40 were sold off “after they rose” to minus $22.
Naturally, I couldn’t store all that oil in my warehouses.