Training room.
A lecturer in his late 30s, with a grim smile, throws out the final mission.
"From now, I will give you five years' worth of financial statements from an anonymous company. Based on this data, complete a three-statement model."
Every newcomer goes through an Excel boot camp during the summer.
And now, they're being ordered to use all the skills they've learned over six weeks to create the ultimate Excel model.
The files provided: two in total.
One is an Excel template, the other is a whopping 400 pages of data.
From this massive document, you must extract useful information to create the income statement, cash flow statement, and balance sheet…
[####][#REF!][#REF!][#VALUE!]
With one typo, the screen fills with nightmare symbols.
It's been a while since I've worked, so mistakes keep piling up.
Click-click-click!
Click-click-click!
The only sound in the room is the clatter of keyboards.
No one is chatting.
Everyone is too busy proving they are diligent Excel slaves.
'But this isn't the time for this…
There's a ticking time bomb inside me.
I need $50 billion to get rid of it.
Raising the money is one thing, but there's also the pressure of time.
The time left is 10 years.
Can I find a cure within that time?
'It's not impossible.'
This is the era when the FDA has introduced the 'accelerated approval' system.
Some cases have completed clinical trials and received approval in as little as three years.
But considering the delays due to COVID…
'By 2019, I'll need to be in phase 3…
Then, I'll have to finish phase 2 by 2017, and phase 1 by 2015?'
The calculator in my head quickly spits out the result.
I need $10 billion in two years.
Converted to Korean won, that's over 10 trillion won.
"Whew…"
A sigh escapes me.
Even with knowledge of the future, this isn't easy.
Can't I just make a fortune with a single bet on cryptocurrency?
Sadly, no. Cryptocurrency can't save me.
I have to spend the money.
I can't just stash it in crypto and watch it grow like a snowball.
I'll need to withdraw trillions regularly and inject them into biotech companies.
That's a huge difference.
In my memory, the market cap of Bitcoin in 2015 was roughly 35 trillion won.
What would happen if I withdrew 10 trillion, one-third of that, all at once?
The price would likely plummet before I even finished withdrawing…
"Ahem!"
Suddenly, the instructor is standing right in front of me.
His eyes sharp.
Like a supervisor coming to whip a lazy slave back into shape.
"Are you done?"
There's no benefit in getting on his bad side.
I quickly put on my most apologetic face.
"Sorry, I'm not feeling well."
"Then it would be better if you finish quickly and rest."
"Can I… rest?"
"Once you finish the test, the rest is free time."
Freedom.
Suddenly, motivation surges through me.
'Yeah, there's no need to worry about others here.'
It's better to hammer through this Excel work quickly, win my freedom, and sip coffee while planning my next steps.
'Coffee…'
Just thinking about it makes my mouth water.
When was the last time I had coffee?
I stretch my fingers lightly, then place my hands back on the keyboard.
Tap! Tap!
I wonder if I can still remember the skills I used to have.
Once you reach the top, you don't have to do these menial tasks anymore.
But…
Tap-tap-tap!
My fingers faithfully press the shortcuts.
With Ctrl, Alt, and E, I activate the auto-coloring and confirm the hard-coded cells, formulas, and references.
Tap-tap-tap-tap!
This time, I press Alt, W, V, G, and turn on the grid lines.
And then began the series of countless shortcuts.
Shift, Space, Ctrl 1, Ctrl C, ALT, H, V, S....
Tap-tap-tap-tap-
My hands, with increasingly fluid movements, are striking numerous shortcuts as if playing a tune.
It feels like I've become a piano virtuoso touching the keys again after ten years.
"Wow, what's with that guy?"
"Crazy… Look at that speed!"
I hear envious whispers from all around, but I don't feel happy at all.
This is literally just manual labor.
Even if I possess this skill, it won't help me rise any higher.
What's the use of rowing well as a slave?
Up on deck, you need to be wielding a sword.
Still, with this skill, I can at least earn myself a coffee break.
"I'm done."
I raised my hand to request confirmation, and the instructor approached with sharp eyes, starting his inspection.
[OK][OK][OK][OK][OK]
The template had built-in auto-checking formulas.
My screen confirmed that I had completed the mission properly, but the instructor wasn't letting his guard down.
"Press F2 from B239, please."
It seems he's checking for any foul play.
=(IF(logical_test,[value_if_true],[value_if_false])
But there was no foul play.
I was already preparing to leave, packing my bag.
And then,
"You're an exceptional talent."
A single sentence, tinged with ominous overtones, reached my ears.
I looked up and saw the instructor smiling at me.
In his pupils was greed.
That's the face of a slave owner who's found a sturdy slave.
'That can't be right.'
This training center is an outsourced institution.
This instructor has no ties to Goldman, and from today, we will never meet again.
So why is he so pleased to discover a capable slave?
A bad feeling crept over me, but
"You may leave now."
"Thank you."
I hurriedly dismissed the feeling and quickened my steps.
Coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee.
At the Starbucks near the training center,
"One Java Frappuccino, one Iced Americano, one Iced Mocha Latte, a slice of Cheesecake, and a slice of Red Velvet Cake, please."
"How many forks would you like?"
"Just one."
After preparing this small reward for myself, I headed to the restroom.
Finally, it was time to check my face.
In the mirror, a rather handsome young man greeted me.
'It's really the same face from back then.'
The dominant genes of my mother, who was known to be an incredible beauty, combined with my father's decent frame to create me.
And now, at the age of 28, I'm at the peak of my youthful prime.
'Not bad at all.'
On Wall Street, appearance and physique can be powerful weapons.
If a shabby-looking person rubs their hands, they appear pitiful, but when a tall, striking person does the same, it looks like savvy negotiation skills.
"Attention! Your Java Frappuccino, Iced Americano, Iced Mocha Latte, Cheesecake, and Red Velvet Cake are ready!"
I picked up the tray and found a spot in the most spacious area to sit down.
'Have my taste buds reset?'
Everything tastes so delicious I almost want to cry.
Savoring the soft texture of the cheesecake in my mouth, I lifted the Iced Americano.
Slurp, slurp, slurp-
Yes, this is the taste!
With fresh caffeine in my system, my brain started working at full capacity again.
'I must have been out of my mind earlier.'
Did I really think I would personally earn $50 billion and develop a cure?
That's like saying I'd buy real estate with cash on hand.
'Of course, the answer is hedge funds.'
The $50 billion required for developing the cure doesn't have to be my money.
That money already exists in this world.
The quickest way is to tell the owners of that money, 'Entrust it to me.'
Remember, I don't have time.
I opened a new file in my memo app and began outlining the necessary steps.
=
=
[Survival Plan]
1. Establish a hedge fund worth at least $10 billion within two years.
To establish a hedge fund, I first need to gather investors.
In that regard, I am in the best possible situation right now.
Why is Goldman considered the best among investment banks?
Because of their performance? Their size?
No.
These guys are masters of networking.
From the president's closest aides to Saudi royalty, Goldman has uniquely strong ties with top-tier clients.
I must fully leverage Goldman's network to gather investors.
=
[Target: Colleagues, Boss, Clients]
1. Befriend wealthy colleagues.
2. Impress a capable boss to meet Goldman's big clients.
3. Make sure the big clients remember me......…..
=
As I continued to organize my plan,
Bzzz–
A call came in.
It was the number I saw earlier, Liliana.
"Mr. Ha Siheon? Surely, you haven't gone home, right? I'm about to head over…"
Looks like the final exam is over.
Now it's time for the new hire welcoming party.
Time to filter out some useful connections.
The welcome party started with dinner.
It was quite a fancy restaurant, but,
'There's nothing to gain here.'
While seated, I could only talk to the people on either side, but unfortunately, there weren't any useful connections near me.
Well, at least I could focus on eating.
The dinner menu was lamb steak.
It had been a long time since I had eaten something with a firm texture, and I almost teared up again.
Truly, chewing food is a massive privilege.
"If everyone's done eating, let's move to the next location."
The next place was a lounge bar.
It wasn't as noisy as a club, but my hearing is more sensitive than most.
Boom, boom, boom!
The bass under the music pounded my eardrums like a drum.
Enduring it, I checked the time.
It was 9 p.m.
The senior staff wouldn't show up until after 10.
Until then, I needed to filter out any decent connections among my peers…
'No one really stands out.'
In my previous life, I wasn't close to my colleagues.
I was too busy trying to impress my superiors, and in the middle of it all, I switched to a hedge fund.
Because of that, I barely utilized Goldman's network… but I can't let that happen in this life.
"One draft beer, please."
I started with my order.
After shivering from the refreshing carbonation hitting my throat, I raised my smartphone to one ear.
"I can't hear you well, can you repeat that…?"
I pretended to have a phone call while circling the lounge.
I even wore a suitably serious expression to block any conversation attempts.
'First, I need to scout.'
Wall Street is a jungle.
It's full of various interests, predators, herbivores, insects, and pests all mixed together.
Acting without information is not only inefficient but dangerous.
It's best to pick out the most promising targets and approach them.
"Man, that exam was brutal."
"I sat for three hours straight."
"But do we really need to know all that?"
A group sitting on a sofa in one corner of the lounge.
They aren't bothering to mingle with new people, just relaxing among themselves—they're traders.
'I'll pass on them for now.'
It's good to know them, but approaching them too eagerly at this point will make them look down on me.
I turned and moved through the people standing around.
"You're at HQ, right? I'm Jefferson."
"I'm Harvey."
Everyone was actively introducing themselves.
No one's shy.
Networking is important on Wall Street.
There's even a process to self-introductions.
"Where are you from?"
"Cambridge."
"Harvard?"
"Yeah, how about you?"
"Pennsylvania."
"UPenn?"
After exchanging names, they share their school names.
No one is surprised when Ivy League names are mentioned.
More than 80% of Goldman's new hires come from prestigious schools.
'Let's exclude that guy.'
Sometimes, there are guys who get overly proud just by mentioning their school's name.
That means it's the greatest achievement of their life.
"My brother went to Harvard too, do you know him? Brad, majoring in Applied Economics."
"Haha, there are so many Brads at Harvard! Which frat was he in?"
Those are the real deals.
They don't mention their school to brag about their degree, but to check if their connections overlap.
While making my rounds, I did a preliminary filter of useful people.
Now, the next step.
'I need to filter out the aristocrats.'
Wall Street has a class system.
The three main classes of the Middle Ages—nobles, clergy, and commoners—still exist here.
Of course, the names have changed slightly.
On Wall Street, the three classes are called:
Front Office, Middle Office, and Back Office.