Di dunia investasi, kepercayaan diri yang nekat tidak pernah berhasil. Tapi Gaon tidak punya alasan yang lebih baik. “…Anggap saja ini kepercayaan diri berdasarkan analisis data.” “Analisis…?” Seseorang yang bukan spesialis big data, juga bukan investor berpengalaman, mengklaim hal seperti itu? Kedengarannya tidak masuk akal. Pada akhirnya, Son Sang-wook memutuskan untuk membatasi keterlibatan Gaon. “Baik, kalau begitu begini saja. Mulailah dengan berinvestasi dalam jumlah sangat kecil di opsi. Sangat kecil. Setelah kamu mulai terbiasa, barulah coba opsi jual emas.” Untuk pria yang jarang bicara, tiba-tiba ia terdengar sangat tegas—menekankan kata ‘kecil’ itu. Itu caranya yang sopan untuk mengatakan, Gaon, kamu nekat. Kita akan segera tahu apakah ini nekat atau tidak. Gaon hanya mengangguk, diam-diam yakin pada ‘big data masa depannya’. “Baik. Ayo lakukan itu.” “Kalau begitu, pertama-tama kamu harus membuka akun opsi. Ah—dan kamu tahu kamu wajib mengikuti kursus pendidikan wajib dan perdagangan simulasi, kan?” “Oh… begitu ya?” “Ya. Kamu harus menghadiri kelas kapan pun kamu bisa, dan setelah kamu mendapat sertifikasi, kita akan melakukan transaksi simulasi bersama.” Teliti. Itu sifat Son Sang-wook. Ia memperhatikan setiap detail dengan cermat. Saat itu, Soocheol, yang sampai sekarang diam, mengangkat tangan. “Aku juga ikut. Metode yang sama seperti dia.” “…Baiklah kalau begitu.” “Dan karena kita sudah di sini, aku ingin menanyakan hal lain. Apakah mungkin menggunakan koneksimu?” “…Koneksiku? Ini perusahaan investasi. Kenapa kamu perlu—” Sebelum ia menyelesaikan kalimatnya, Soocheol menjawab terbuka, tanpa keraguan sedikit pun. “Alasan sebenarnya kami datang ke sini… sebenarnya untuk meminta akses ke jaringanmu.” “…Jaringanku…? Kenapa aku?” “Analis membangun jaringan yang luas. Tapi jaringanmu berbeda. Aku dengar kamu menjaga hubungan dengan pebisnis berintegritas tinggi. Jadi ketika temanku bilang akan menemuimu, aku ngotot ikut.” “Ah…” Sekarang masuk akal. Gaon datang untuk investasi. Tapi Soocheol datang untuk orang. Tujuannya bukan uang—melainkan koneksi. Anehnya, Son Sang-wook tidak terlihat terganggu. Kalau ada, ia malah tampak… geli. “…Kamu lulus dari universitas mana?” “Universitas Seodong.” “…Kita alumni.” “Oh?” “Kalau begitu, aku percaya padamu. Kamu mencari siapa?” Ternyata sangat langsung. Ia hanya menanyakan universitas untuk mengelompokkan mereka dengan rapi ke dalam jaringannya. “Aku butuh seseorang yang bisa mengelola gedung. Sekitar tiga gedung—masing-masing delapan lantai.” “Hm… tunggu sebentar.” Ia menggulir ponselnya, memilih satu kontak, dan meneruskannya ke Soocheol. Ding-dong! “Telepon nomor ini. Dia yang akan mengurusnya.” “Bisa kupercaya?” “…Kalau aku tidak bisa menaruh namaku di belakang seseorang, aku tidak akan memperkenalkannya.” Itulah buktinya—alasan ia dijuluki ‘Raja Jaringan’. Setelah perkenalan itu, mereka bertiga berdiri untuk pergi. Sebelum mereka keluar, Son Sang-wook berbicara lagi. “Kalian berdua mitra bisnis, benar?” “Ya, benar. Kenapa?” “…Mari sering bertemu. Aku punya firasat kita akan banyak bicara.” Son Sang-wook pandai membaca orang—dan baginya, Gaon dan Soocheol sangat menjanjikan. Prototipe aplikasi golf akhirnya selesai. Gaon dan Soocheol menerimanya dari Sang-su dan menguji antarmukanya sendiri. Sistem reservasinya solid. Lebih baik lagi, ada fitur deteksi bug bawaan bernama ‘Reservation Catch’ yang mencegah pemesanan ganda dan error sistem. “…Ini bagus.” “Begitu aku menunjukkannya ke bosku, dia menelepon beberapa orang—dan bam! Semua country club menengah di Seoul dan daerah-daerah berbaris untuk bergabung dengan kita.” Dorongan dan karisma Sang-su bukan main. Orang-orang mempercayainya—dan jaringannya bergerak cepat. Tapi Gaon merasa orang yang lebih luar biasa daripada Sang-su adalah bosnya. “…Koneksi bosmu gila. Dia sebenarnya siapa?” “Kamu tidak mendengarkan ya? Juara binaraga sekaligus pebisnis asli Songpa—Han Seok-jae.” “Han Seok-jae…? Oh! Han Seok-jae yang itu? Raksasa industri bisnis olahraga?! Bukankah dia masih bertanding secara profesional?” “Ya. Dia terus memenangi kompetisi Asia dan sedang bersiap ke panggung Amerika Serikat.” Siapa pun yang pernah menghabiskan lima menit saja di internet di Korea pasti tahu nama itu. Han Seok-jae pernah muncul di tak terhitung acara TV—dikagumi karena humornya, kedisiplinannya, dan kepribadiannya yang membumi. “Pantas saja dia sempat menghilang—dia sedang bersiap ke luar negeri. Sial, tidak pernah kubayangkan bosmu adalah Han Seok-jae itu.” “Ngomong-ngomong, setelah melihat aplikasinya, dia mengatakan sesuatu yang menarik. ‘Kenapa tidak dibuat jadi aplikasi gaya hidup olahraga yang menyeluruh?’” “Aplikasi gaya hidup?” “Pemesanan golf, penjualan peralatan olahraga—” “Ah! Seperti marketplace online lengkap.” “Tepat. Dia bilang akan berinvestasi.” “…Serius?” Han Seok-jae bukan sekadar binaragawan—dia juga investor dan pengusaha sukses, bermitra dengan beberapa firma PE di industri kebugaran. Jika dia setuju mendukung mereka secara finansial… Mereka bukan hanya membangun aplikasi reservasi golf. Mereka sedang membangun merek olahraga lengkap. Wusss— “Astaga, dinginnya. Sudah membeku rasanya. Ayo masuk.” Angin dingin menerpa wajah mereka. Mereka masuk ke kafe terdekat. Meskipun tadi menggigil, Sang-su memesan: ‘Iced Americano, double shot.’ “…Kamu kedinginan dan memesan es?” “Bahkan jika aku mati kedinginan, Americano harus tetap pakai es.” Gaon tertawa kecil. Preferensinya tidak bisa diganggu gugat. “Jadi begini—dia bilang ingin kamu juga ikut dalam bisnis ini. Kamu ikut, kan?” “Tentu. Bagaimana kita membagi sahamnya?” “Begini, bos memasukkan tiga miliar won. Jadi kita tidak perlu terlalu banyak modal. Yeong-su, pengembangnya, menangani perangkat lunak. Aku menangani operasional praktis dan para pegolf. Kamu mendatangkan pelanggan. Yang kita butuhkan hanya kantor.” “Kalau begitu aku masukkan 300 juta. Seharusnya itu adil.” “Itu tepat 10%. Deal. Bagaimana dengan beruang di sini?” Soocheol, yang sedang mengunyah es batu, mengangkat ibu jari dan telunjuknya membentuk tanda OK. “Aku ikut. 300 juta.” “Bagus! Kalau begitu struktur investasinya sudah beres!” Langkah pertama memperluas bisnis mereka selesai. Saat mereka hendak pergi, Sang-su tiba-tiba teringat sesuatu. “Oh iya! Kalian tertarik bergabung dengan tim bisbol amatir?” “…Apa?” “Bosku bilang tim itu penuh dengan koneksi gila. Kalau kalian mau ikut, dia akan membawa kalian masuk.” “Daehyun Motors, Layanan Pengadaan, Kantor Pajak Nasional, jaksa, hakim, polisi—semuanya ada di liga itu!” “…Hah?” “Dan beruang, bukankah kamu main bisbol waktu kecil?” Soocheol adalah atlet berbakat alami—sepak bola, judo, lari, seni bela diri—tidak ada olahraga yang tidak bisa ia tangani. Ia pernah menjadi pitcher di bisbol sekolah dasar, lalu beralih ke judo di SMP dan bahkan bertanding di tingkat nasional. Meskipun penampilannya besar dan lamban, ia ternyata lincah—tipe orang yang diperebutkan klub sepak bola dewasa. Ia menatap Gaon. “Kalau dia ikut, aku ikut.” “Kalau kamu, Gaon?” Gaon mengangguk. Jika itu sesuatu yang bisa ia nikmati bersama teman, bahkan bisbol—sesuatu yang pernah ia tinggalkan—terdengar menyenangkan. “Baiklah. Aku ikut.” Keesokan paginya— Gaon dan Soocheol datang untuk tes masuk di ‘Naru Baseball Club’. Pemimpin tim, Song Hak-il—yang juga mengemudikan bus carter shift malam di Songpa—menyambut mereka dengan hangat. “Kalian berdua mantan pemain? Jackpot!” “Yah… cuma bisbol tingkat SD.” “Tetap dihitung!” Gaon pernah menarik perhatian seorang pelatih saat bermain di lingkungannya dan akhirnya menjadi cleanup hitter sampai kelas enam di SD Daerim—salah satu program bisbol muda terkuat di Korea. Jika situasi keluarganya tidak hancur, ia mungkin bergabung dengan tim bisbol SMP papan atas… dan menempuh jalur atlet elite. “Daerim… kamu dari SD Daerim?” “Ya.” Sekarang ini, bahkan klub amatir melakukan seleksi ketat terhadap rekrutmennya. Naru Baseball Club adalah tim kuat—juara tiga kali berturut-turut di liga amatir Mapo. Dan SD Daerim memiliki prestise besar di dunia itu. “Kalau kamu pernah masuk starting lineup di Daerim, kamu memenuhi syarat… tapi penguji kami ketat. Kamu sanggup?” “Aku siap. Itu sebabnya aku datang.” “Percaya diri, bagus. Baiklah! Tes dimulai! Hei, Manajer In! Ada dua pendatang baru untuk dievaluasi!” “Ya, Pak!” Seorang pria raksasa melangkah ke mound—sarung tangan di tangan. Mata Gaon menyipit. In Jong-mun…? CEO masa depan Daehyun Mobis. Pria yang benar-benar mencintai bisbol. Gaon hanya pernah mendengar rumor—ia tidak pernah menyangka akan berhadapan dengannya di sini. Dan pria itu sangat besar. Melihatnya langsung sama sekali berbeda dari foto. Kalau monster itu mengenaku dengan lemparan, aku mati. “Mulai!” “Baiklah! Anak muda, keluarkan yang terbaik! Kamu dapat satu setengah inning. Tiga out dan selesai!” Kedengarannya murah hati—tapi tidak. Gagal memukul? Gagal menghasilkan pukulan sah? Kamu gugur. Jadi mereka juga ingin menguji ketenangan mental. Bisbol bukan sekadar soal kekuatan. Pemukul butuh kesadaran—situasi, timing, posisi tim. Mereka menilai semua itu. Gaon melangkah ke kotak pemukul. “Fuh… aku siap.” “Ini dia!” Jong-mun bertukar beberapa isyarat pelan dengan catcher, lalu melempar. Wusss! Bola melesat membelah udara. Dengan mudah di atas 120 km/jam. Tak! “Strike!” Gaon bahkan tidak sempat mengayun. Jong-mun tidak melempar dengan kekuatan penuh—dan tetap saja ia kewalahan. Tapi Gaon tidak patah semangat. …Tidak buruk. Sebenarnya, sangat bisa diatasi. Jong-mun melupakan satu hal: Gaon juga mantan pemain. “Bola kedua!” “Ya!” “Ini dia!” Wusss! Bola curve melengkung ke kiri. Gaon mengikutinya dengan mata—dan sengaja mengayun kosong. Tok! “Strike!” “Apa? Katanya dia dari Daerim?” “Lagi!” Penonton bergumam—mengira Gaon hanya sengaja gagal. Tapi Gaon menyeringai kecil. “Yang terakhir!” “Ya!” Wusss! Lemparan cepat mengarah ke dalam zona strike. Gaon menyerang. Klaaak! Bola melesat dari pemukulnya—lurus seperti silet, lintasan rendah. Bola melesat melewati kepala Jong-mun. “Wah!” Infield langsung menangkapnya. Tok! “Out!” “Ups, salahku.” ‘Ayunan golf’ Gaon menghasilkan line drive yang begitu tajam hingga hampir mencukur dahi Jong-mun. Jong-mun menatap Gaon dengan mata menyipit. Pesan tanpa suara: ‘Oh, dasar bocah… menarik.’ Pada saat yang sama— Wusss—!! BAAAM! “Strike!” “Siapa sih orang itu?!” “Dia monster!” Semua mata beralih ke Soocheol. Sorotan menghantamnya seperti hujan misil. Gaon tertawa kecil. Kalau mereka sudah kaget sekarang, tunggu sampai beruang itu melempar dengan kekuatan penuh. Tes masuk praktis sudah selesai. Gaon tersenyum tipis. Untung aku belajar bisbol. Tidak pernah kubayangkan akan berguna seperti ini. Jika Soocheol bergabung untuk networking, Gaon sekarang mengerti kenapa orang-orang berebut masuk klub olahraga sosial. CEO masa depan Daehyun Mobis? Ya… kita pasti akan semakin dekat.
Bab 26
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In the investment world, reckless confidence never works. But Gaon didn’t have any better excuse prepared. “…Let’s just say it’s confidence based on data analysis.” “Analysis…?” Someone who wasn’t a big data specialist, nor a seasoned investor, claiming such a thing? It sounded absurd. In the end, Son Sang-wook decided to set limits on Gaon’s involvement. “Alright, then here’s what you do. Start by investing very small amounts in options. Very small. And once you get a feel for it, that’s when you try a put option on gold.” For a man of few words, he suddenly became surprisingly assertive — emphasizing that word “small.” It was his polite way of saying Gaon, you’re being reckless . We’ll see soon enough whether it’s reckless or not. Gaon simply nodded, quietly confident in his “big data of the future.” “Sure. Let’s do that.” “Then first, you’ll need to open an options account. Ah — and you know you must take the mandatory education course and do simulation trading, right?” “Oh… do I?” “Yes. You’ll have to attend classes whenever you can, and once you’re certified, we’ll do simulated trades together.” Thorough. That was Son Sang-wook’s nature. He covered every detail carefully. Just then, Soocheol, who had been silent until now, raised his hand. “I’ll do the same. Same method as him.” “…Alright then.” “And since we’re here, I wanted to ask something else. Would it be possible to use your connections?” “…My connections? This is an investment firm. Why would you need—” Before he finished, Soocheol answered openly, without a shred of hesitation. “The real reason we came here… was actually to request access to your network.” “…My… network? Why me?” “Analysts build wide networks. But your network is different. I’ve heard you maintain relationships with high-credibility businesspeople. So when my friend said he was coming to meet you, I insisted on following him.” “Ah…” Now it made sense. Gaon came for investment. But Soocheol came for people. His goal wasn’t money — it was connections. Surprisingly, Son Sang-wook didn’t seem bothered. If anything, he looked… amused. “…Which university did you graduate from?” “Seodong University.” “…We’re alumni.” “Oh?” “Well then, I’ll trust you. Who are you looking for?” Unexpectedly straightforward. He had only asked for the university in order to categorize them neatly into his network. “I need someone who can manage buildings. Around three buildings — each eight floors.” “Hm… just a moment.” He scrolled through his phone, selected a contact, and forwarded it to Soocheol. Ding-dong! “Call this number. He’ll handle it.” “Can I trust him?” “…If I can’t put my name behind someone, I don’t introduce them.” There it was — proof of why he was called the “Network King.” After the introductions, the three of them stood to leave. Before they walked out, Son Sang-wook spoke again. “You two are business partners, correct?” “Yes, we are. Why?” “…Let’s see each other often. I have a feeling we’ll be talking much more.” Son Sang-wook could read people well — and to him, Gaon and Soocheol were extremely promising. The prototype of the golf application was finally complete. Gaon and Soocheol received it from Sang-su and tested the interface themselves. The reservation system was solid. Even better, it had a built-in bug detection feature called “Reservation Catch” that prevented double-booking and system errors. “…This is good.” “The moment I showed it to my boss, he made a few calls — and bam! Every mid-sized country club in Seoul and the provinces is lining up to join us.” Sang-su’s drive and charisma were no joke. People trusted him — and his network moved fast. But Gaon felt the person even more incredible than Sang-su was his boss. “…Your boss’s connections are insane. Who is he exactly?” “Aren’t you listening? A bodybuilding champion and a born-and-raised Songpa businessman — Han Seok-jae.” “Han Seok-jae…? Oh! That Han Seok-jae? The giant of the sports business industry?! Isn’t he still competing professionally?” “Yep. He keeps winning Asian competitions and is preparing for the U.S. stage.” Anyone who had spent even five minutes on the internet in Korea knew the name. Han Seok-jae had been on countless TV programs — admired for his humor, discipline, and down-to-earth personality. “No wonder he disappeared for a bit — he was preparing to go overseas. Damn, never thought your boss was that Han Seok-jae.” “Anyway, after seeing the app, he said something interesting. ‘Why not make it a comprehensive sports lifestyle app?’” “A lifestyle app?” “Golf bookings, sports equipment sales—” “Ah! Like a full online marketplace.” “Exactly. He said he’d invest.” “…Seriously?” Han Seok-jae wasn’t just a bodybuilder — he was also a successful investor and entrepreneur, partnered with multiple PE firms in the fitness industry. If he agreed to back them financially… They weren’t just building a golf reservation app. They were building a full sports brand. Whoosh— “Man, it’s cold. Freezing already. Let’s head inside.” The cold wind whipped across their faces. They ducked into a café nearby. Despite shivering earlier, Sang-su ordered: “Iced Americano, double shot.” “…You’re freezing and you’re ordering ice?” “Even if I freeze to death, Americano must be iced.” Gaon chuckled. His preferences were unshakeable. “So anyway — he said he wants you to join this business too. You’re in, right?” “Of course. How are we splitting the shares?” “Well, the boss is putting in three billion won. So we won’t need too much capital on our end. Yeong-su, the developer, handles the software. I handle the practical operations and the golfers. You bring in the customers. All we need is an office.” “Then I’ll put in 300 million. That should be fair.” “That’s exactly 10%. Deal. What about the bear over here?” Soocheol, chewing ice cubes, raised his thumb and forefinger in an OK sign. “I’m in. 300 million.” “Great! Then the investment structure is settled!” The first step of expanding their business was complete. As they were about to leave, Sang-su suddenly remembered something. “Oh right! You guys interested in joining an amateur baseball team?” “…What?” “My boss said the team is packed with crazy connections. If you want in, he’ll bring you in.” “Daehyun Motors, Procurement Service, National Tax Service, prosecutors, judges, police — all of them are in that league!” “…Huh?” “And bear, didn’t you play baseball when you were a kid?” Soocheol was a natural-born athlete — football, judo, running, martial arts — there wasn’t a sport he couldn’t handle. He had pitched in elementary school baseball, then switched to judo in middle school and even competed nationally. Despite his big, slow appearance, he was surprisingly agile — the kind of guy adult soccer clubs would fight over. He looked at Gaon. “If he joins, I join.” “What about you, Gaon?” Gaon nodded. If it was something he could enjoy with a friend, even baseball — something he once left behind — sounded fun. “Alright. I’m in.” The next morning— Gaon and Soocheol arrived for their entrance test at the “Naru Baseball Club.” The team leader, Song Hak-il — who also drove a night-shift charter bus in Songpa — greeted them warmly. “You’re both former players? Jackpot!” “Well… only elementary-level baseball.” “Still counts!” Gaon had once caught the eye of a coach while playing in the neighborhood and ended up as the cleanup hitter through sixth grade at Daerim Elementary — one of Korea’s strongest youth baseball programs. If his family situation hadn’t collapsed, he might have joined a top middle school baseball team… and followed the elite athlete path. “Daerim… you came from Daerim Elementary?” “Yes.” These days, even amateur clubs screened their recruits. Naru Baseball Club was a powerhouse — three-time consecutive champions in Mapo’s amateur league. And Daerim Elementary carried enormous prestige in that world. “If you were in the starting lineup at Daerim, you’re qualified… but our tester is strict. Think you can handle it?” “I’m ready. That’s why I came.” “Confidence, good. Alright! Testing starts! Hey, Manager In! We’ve got two newcomers for evaluation!” “Yes, sir!” A giant man stepped onto the mound — glove in hand. Gaon’s eyes narrowed. In Jong-mun…? Future CEO of Daehyun Mobis. A man who genuinely loved baseball. Gaon had only heard rumors — he never expected to stand across from him here. And the man was enormous. Seeing him in person was nothing like photos. If that monster hits me with a pitch, I’m dead. “Begin!” “Alright! Kid, give it your best! You get one half-inning. Three outs and you’re done!” It sounded generous — but it wasn’t. Fail to hit anything? Fail to produce a valid hit? You’re out. So they want to test mental composure too. Baseball wasn’t just about power. A hitter needed awareness — situation, timing, team position. They were evaluating all of that. Gaon stepped into the batter’s box. “Whew… I’m ready.” “Here we go!” Jong-mun exchanged a few quiet signs with the catcher, then pitched. Whsssh! The ball ripped through the air. Easily over 120 km/h. Whack! “Strike!” Gaon didn’t even get to swing. Jong-mun wasn’t throwing his full power — and he still overwhelmed him. But Gaon wasn’t discouraged. …Not bad. Actually, very doable. Jong-mun had forgotten one thing: Gaon was also a former player. “Second ball!” “Yes!” “Here it comes!” Whsssh! A curveball drifting left. Gaon tracked it with his eyes — and intentionally whiffed. Thok! “Strike!” “What? He said he was from Daerim?” “Again!” Spectators murmured — assuming Gaon was just flopping. But Gaon smirked quietly. “Last one!” “Yes!” Whsssh! A fast pitch aimed inside the strike zone. Gaon lunged. Claaack! The ball shot off his bat — razor straight, low trajectory. It whizzed past Jong-mun’s head. “Whoa!” The infield caught it immediately. Thok! “Out!” “Oops, my bad.” Gaon’s “golf swing” produced a line drive so sharp it nearly shaved Jong-mun’s forehead. Jong-mun stared at Gaon with narrowed eyes. A silent message: ‘Oh, you little punk… interesting.’ At the same moment— Whsssh—!! BAAM! “Strike!” “Who the hell is that guy?!” “He’s a monster!” Every eye turned to Soocheol. The spotlight hit him like a missile barrage. Gaon chuckled. If they’re shocked now, just wait until the bear throws at full power. The entrance test was practically over. Gaon smiled faintly. Good thing I learned baseball. Never thought it’d come in handy like this. If Soocheol joined for networking, Gaon now understood why people fought to join social sports clubs. Future CEO of Daehyun Mobis? Yeah… we’re definitely getting close.
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