A Wall Street Genius's Final Investment Playbook-Chapter 30

At the same time, inside the whiskey bar.

Even after Ha Si-heon left, the conversation remained lively.

"I might be promoted to PM soon."

"Don't count your chickens. How long have you even been working?"

"If you've got the skills, it's not impossible. Last year, I got a 700K comp."

"700K??"

Here, "comp" refers to a shortened form of "compensation," meaning a bonus.

The idea of receiving a 700,000-dollar bonus, excluding base salary, made the eyes of the Goldman alumni widen in disbelief.

The Renaissance trader took in their reactions with satisfaction, but suddenly hesitated.

‘What’s this…?'

The person they most expected to react, Rachel, seemed excessively indifferent.

For Rachel, 700,000 dollars wasn’t an amount worth widening her eyes over.

"I might even get to compete in the Alpha Cup this time…

Schwarzman himself might show up for the first time in a while…"

Even when casually dropping the name of a famous figure, the reaction was lukewarm.

Rachel, after all, had rubbed shoulders with former presidents in informal settings.

"But where’s Sean? He’s late."

Rachel’s comment caused a few facial muscles around the table to twitch.

"That guy talks about hitting an 80% accuracy rate? Was he a quant?"

"He doesn’t look it… Well, these days, anyone can ditch their glasses and pretend to be normal."

"True, there are a lot of quants who act cocky without knowing their place. But intuition and mental toughness matter as much as knowledge and intelligence. Tsk tsk."

"We’ve got someone like that in our team too. Every time they face a setback, they completely crumble. No guts to scale up their positions."

"Sean’s different, isn’t he? He’s got guts."

The person who interjected was none other than Lenton.

Lenton wasn’t a fan of Ha Si-heon either, but the word "glasses" rubbed him the wrong way.

‘These guys… how long has it been since graduation? No doubt, they’re high school athletes. The ones who lived as campus celebrities, went on to Ivy League schools, and stayed in the spotlight their entire lives. To people like them, Ha Si-heon must be an eyesore. An Asian nerd, ignored and invisible in high school, now climbing the ranks.’

He wanted to provoke them further.

"Doesn’t it take guts to declare an 80% hit rate while stuck between two MDs? And have you ever heard of an analyst doing associate-level work?"

The big shots couldn’t respond.

Having worked in investment banking themselves, they knew how absurdly preferential Ha Si-heon’s treatment was.

‘Serves them right.’

Lenton raised his glass with satisfaction, relishing his sweet revenge against the guys who had subtly looked down on him for wearing glasses earlier.

But then, Nelson spoke up.

"Even so, what’s the use if his personality is awful? I didn’t believe it when the seniors said he was shady, but today I saw his true colors."

"Why? What happened?"

"He threatened to spread nasty rumors about me if I didn’t do what he said. Told he could ruin me completely. Watch out for that guy."

Though disguised as a warning, it was more slander. But even this didn’t work.

"Talking about someone who’s not here makes me uncomfortable."

Rachel, knowing Ha Si-heon’s true purpose, could only feel pity for the misunderstanding.

"Oh, speaking of which, this season…"

Sensing Rachel’s displeasure, the men quickly changed the subject.

But their words didn’t reach her ears.

Her focus was elsewhere—on one thing.

Ha Si-heon’s absence.

It had been 30 minutes since he’d stepped out, saying he needed to make a call, yet he hadn’t returned.

‘An MD call?’

It was 3 a.m.

There weren’t many people to call at this hour.

But a conversation with a superior lasting over 30 minutes felt unusual.

"I’m going to step out for a moment too."

Exiting the whiskey bar, Rachel easily spotted Ha Si-heon nearby, engrossed in a call.

‘It’s not a work call…’

Ha Si-heon had an expression she had never seen before.

His face was filled with pure joy.

Why did she feel compelled to confirm this sight?

Just as she decided it would be better to leave before being noticed, she turned to walk away.

"Yes, I'll meet you at the station then. Oh, and could you send me the materials from the Hematology Society? No, I already have the clinical case reports. I'm looking for data that hasn't been published in the journal…"

Ha Si-heon's voice rang out clearly, carrying an entirely unexpected topic.

Startled, she turned back. At that moment, Ha Si-heon finished his call, a broad smile lighting up his face.

"Ah! Rachel!"

It was the first time she had seen such a purely joyful smile from him.

"I think I should head out now. You should leave too. Staying here won't do you any good."

"Me too?"

"It's a waste of time, a waste of time. Better to go home and get some sleep at this hour."

Ha Si-heon didn’t give Rachel a chance to argue. He quickly went inside, packed up his things, and led her out. He hailed a taxi without delay.

As he opened the taxi door, he glanced at his wristwatch with a slightly troubled expression.

"Um, would it be alright if I go ahead first? I’m in a bit of a rush…"

"Don’t worry about it; let’s go together. I’ll drop you off on the way."

"Alright then, Penn Station, please."

The destination struck her as odd.

A train station at this hour…

"Where are you going?"

"To Philadelphia. I have something to take care of there."

"At this time? What about work in the morning…"

"It’s fine. If I stay there for just two hours, I can make it back in time for work."

He was planning to travel to another city and return at dawn.

It had to be something exceptionally important for him to follow such a schedule.

Considering the phone call she had just overheard…

"Is it because of the rare disease you mentioned before?"

"Sorry? How do you know about that…"

"Oh, I happened to overhear your phone call earlier…"

Rachel quickly explained, worried he might be upset about her eavesdropping. But Ha Si-heon showed no signs of irritation.

"Yes, I’m going to meet someone who’s researching that disease."

She was stunned.

Rachel had met many wealthy people and those connected with the famous and powerful.

But she had never encountered someone who would catch a train at dawn to another city in pursuit of a cure for an incurable disease.

"Can I come with you?"

"What?"

When Ha Si-heon gave her a look that clearly said, "Why would you?" Rachel quickly added,

"I’ve been thinking about starting a movement to discover unknown artists someday. I thought observing this might give me some inspiration…"

"I won’t be able to pay you any attention."

"That’s fine. I’ll just watch from the sidelines."

"Alright, suit yourself."

Ha Si-heon agreed without much hesitation, his face alight with excitement.

It seemed he was in such a good mood that he would have granted any request at the moment.

"I need to look up some materials for a bit…"

From then on, Ha Si-heon was glued to his smartphone.

Though he seemed to have completely forgotten Rachel’s presence, his focus only made her trust him more.

Click

Ha Si-heon heading out at this hour. The person willing to meet him at this hour.

They were the type of people she had admired all her life but had never encountered directly.

People who see what others cannot and move the world in ways no one notices.

Her heart raced.

Yes, Ha Si-heon was the real deal.

***

Philadelphia, 30th Street Station.

5 a.m. was not a busy time for the station.

That made it easy to spot the man standing tall, looking around among the few hurrying commuters.

A tall white man in a baseball cap.

"David Faunbaum?"

"Ha Si-heon?"

"Call me Sean."

"Then you can call me David."

Faunbaum—or rather, David—was much younger than I expected.

Late twenties or early thirties.

Beside him stood a cheerful-looking blonde woman.

"My fiancée, Jessie."

"And this is my friend, Rachel."

"Do you like McMuffins by any chance?"

David grinned, shaking the McDonald's bag in his hand.

"There’s a 24-hour diner nearby, but since you need to leave again in two hours, why not save time and eat here?"

I didn’t mind either way…

But when I turned my head, Rachel quickly responded.

"Yes, I love McMuffins! Do you have Egg McMuffins?"

"I bought all kinds: Big Breakfast, Bacon Egg Cheese Biscuit, Hotcakes…"

"I love biscuits too."

Judging by how smoothly she discussed the menu, it seemed she had eaten McDonald’s before.

After all, even Buffett is a regular customer; why wouldn’t a princess eat it?

"Then this way."

We found a relatively quiet corner with little foot traffic and placed a McDonald’s bag on each of our laps. Only one person, David, remained standing.

"Before we begin, I should confess something."

David took off his cap, revealing a shaved head.

It didn’t suit him at all.

"I’m a Castleman disease patient. I’ve already had four flare-ups. They pumped me with so much chemo that I look like this. Normally, I have plenty of hair, haha!"

Now I understood why David rushed out here at this hour. It wasn’t just because he believed me when I said I’d invest.

He was desperate too.

He was a patient actively fighting death.

David briefly explained his situation.

"My first flare-up was four years ago. I spent a year and a half stuck in the hospital like a corpse."

Looking closer, his body bore the marks of battle.

His skin was soft and sagging.

Perhaps he had even experienced kidney failure and become a human water balloon.

"The only available treatment is an IL-6 inhibitor… But unfortunately, it doesn’t work for me. Since no one else is searching for alternative treatments, I decided to do it myself. I’m a med school graduate, after all."

David was also a med school graduate.

Two individuals of similar age and background, both searching for a cure themselves.

‘Fascinating.’

At first, I thought it was a strange coincidence. But on second thought, it wasn’t coincidence at all.

‘Of course it’s because we’re med school grads.’

Most people think rare diseases are inherently harder to treat. They assume the diseases are much more complex and that medical technology hasn’t advanced far enough to develop treatments.

They’re wrong.

The technical difficulty is the same.

The problem is a lack of resources and manpower—it hasn’t even been attempted yet.

Once the research begins, the current technology could absolutely produce a cure.

We med school graduates understand this, so instead of giving up, we’re making one final desperate attempt.

But now’s not the time to dwell on that.

The clock is ticking.

"Let me be direct since time is short. I want to solve this problem with money."

"With money? We’re not talking small change here…"

"I’m prepared. Assuming the necessary funds are secured, what are the chances of finding a cure within 10 years?"

"Ten years…"

David’s expression instantly changed.

The warmth from moments ago vanished, replaced with intense seriousness.

He now looked like a researcher speaking to an investor.

"It depends on the scale of the funding. Running multiple projects simultaneously could drastically shorten the timeline…"

"I’m prepared to commit up to $50 billion."

"Excuse me?"

David’s eyes widened.

"$50 billion? What on earth do you do…?"

"I’m planning to set up a private fund within a few years. Once that happens, the money will come in gradually."

"Oh…"

David glanced at the floor before bursting into a hearty laugh.

"Honestly, I don’t expect $50 billion. Any amount you’re willing to provide would help. Even $20 right now would be great—oh, breakfast costs extra!"

As expected, he doesn’t believe me.

And I can’t exactly prove it—I don’t have $50 billion sitting in my bank account at the moment.

But I didn’t come all this way just to convince him.

"It doesn’t matter if you don’t believe me. Even if you think it’s a theoretical question, I’d like an answer."

I know I sound like a lunatic.

"Still, I need an answer right now."

"If you had $50 billion, do you think it would be possible to develop a treatment within 10 years?"

"That…"

David's face turned serious again.

He propped his chin on his hand, staring at the floor. It was clear he was calculating in his head.

‘He must have imagined it before.’

Even among those struggling with poverty, many have vivid fantasies about what they would do with lottery winnings.

If mere poverty inspires such thoughts, then someone like David, whose life is on the line, must have thought long and hard about how he would use that kind of money.

David had been actively researching in this field, attending conferences and gathering knowledge. He must have already formed practical ideas about what could be done.

I just needed to know if those ideas could become reality within the constraints of $50 billion and 10 years.

After finishing his thoughts, David raised his gaze.

"It’s possible."

Of course, he didn’t have all the answers himself.

But just as I had a blueprint to gather $50 billion, David must have a plan to tackle the problem.

"Could you provide a rough estimate and breakdown of how the money would be used?"

"This… might take some explaining."

"If you explain it to me, I’ll follow along as best I can."

"Oh, if you’ve worked in this field, Sean, you might already have some idea…"

Silence lingered for a moment.

David lowered his gaze again, staring at the ground.

‘Does he have something in mind?’

It was slightly disconcerting to see someone hesitate after saying they would explain, but his expression suggested I shouldn’t rush him.

Several seconds passed.

Finally, David clenched his fist as if resolving himself and spoke.

"If you want results within 10 years using $50 billion, there’s only one way."

He lifted his head, meeting my eyes, and declared as if making a proclamation:

"We have to target off-label use."