A Wall Street Genius's Final Investment Playbook-Chapter 33

After meeting David, a small change occurred in my death certificate.

[Date of Death: March 11, 2023]

[Remaining Time: 3,399 days]

[Survival Rate: 3.8%]

My survival rate increased.

A number that had consistently stayed at 0% rose to 3.8%.

I leaned my chin on my hand, pondering the meaning of this percentage.

"So, it’s not just clinical trials that raise it…?"

I had assumed that only by entering clinical trials would the numbers fluctuate.

But I was wrong.

Other factors can also cause changes in the percentage.

"Couldn’t they at least tell me why…?"

It would be nice if they explained what factors caused the 3% increase.

But my death certificate is extremely unkind.

I have no choice but to figure it out myself.

For now, I have two guesses.

I opened my notepad and began organizing my thoughts.

Factors Contributing to the Survival Rate Increase

Planning

Until now, I only thought about earning money and kept delaying the development of a treatment.

I had plans to secure funding but none for development.

But now, things are different.

I have a rough framework in place.

It’s like spinning a game of Russian roulette.

The cost of pulling the trigger once is $4 million.

Promising candidates would advance to clinical trials, requiring an additional $450 million at that stage.

I’ve outlined the necessary steps and even attached price tags to each one.

If this planning caused the increase in the survival rate…

Note: Check for fluctuations in the survival rate with every plan change.

I need to keep monitoring this moving forward.

Every time I meet David, the plan will take more shape.

And every time, I must record how much the rate changes.

"This might come in handy later."

If the numbers truly change because of the planning,

then plans that don’t contribute to survival will show a 0% change.

Knowing that in advance can help filter out time-wasting plans.

With that settled, I moved on to the second reason.

This time, I recruited someone named David.

If the survival rate rose because of him…

The same logic applies.

If a new hire causes a 0% change, it means they’re useless.

I can cut them off early.

I made a note of that as well.

Then, I opened the photo album containing the Russian roulette list.

Russian Roulette Treatment List

The list already contains one treatment: rapamycin, the second treatment.

If I had progressed through the roulette in order, the jackpot would have hit on the third trigger pull.

"He must have stopped there."

David clearly didn’t complete the roulette.

He must have believed he had found the solution.

But as someone from the future, I know better.

I know that there are patients for whom even the second treatment doesn’t work.

Patients like me.

What I need is the third treatment.

"Could it be in here…?"

Numbers 4 through 15 on the list.

These are the triggers David didn’t pull in his previous life.

Perhaps the answer lies among them.

It’s not certain.

There’s also the possibility that the entire list is a dead end.

If that’s the case, I need to quickly explore other options:

search for new trigger candidates or find a different researcher.

"It would be best to confirm as soon as possible…"

There’s only one way to confirm it.

I have to pull the trigger myself.

The patients are already lined up.

All that’s missing is the money to proceed immediately…

"I don’t have the money."

One trigger costs $4 million.

The total cost to pull all triggers is $60 million.

Until I establish a fund, I’ll have to cover the entire cost with my own money.

The Bitcoin funds coming in December amount to about $1 million.

To grow that into $60 million, I need a 60x return.

How long would that take?

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I drummed my fingers on the desk for a while, thinking it over.

Even with future knowledge and a bit of luck, this isn’t an easy feat.

"Options are out of the question…"

It’s because of the trading restrictions applied to employees at Goldman.

Options are banned, short selling is prohibited, and any stock purchased must be held for at least 30 days, among other rules.

Breaking these rules results in a report to the SEC (Securities and Exchange Commission).

The SEC likely wouldn’t pay close attention to a mere analyst’s trades, but if that analyst makes a 60x return in a short period, it’s a different story.

They’d suspect insider trading and launch an investigation.

During the investigation, there’s a risk that all securities trading could be halted.

If that happens, I’d lose the ability to make money through stocks entirely.

So, I must abide by the rules—no exceptions.

That means trading honestly, without options, buying only "rising stocks," and achieving a 60x return within two years.

Meanwhile, I’d also need to withdraw chunks of $4 million at a time.

With this approach… it would easily take three years.

I’d prefer to finish the roulette and move to clinical trials within two years.

But no matter how I twist and turn the problem, it’s clear that it’s impossible.

With the seed money I have, it’s not feasible.

At least, not if I stick to Goldman’s rules.

In that case, there’s only one solution left.

"I need to increase my seed money."

If I need to turn $1 million into $60 million, I’d need a 60x return.

But if I start with $5 million?

I’d only need a 12x return.

That’s a much more achievable goal within two years.

But…

"Sigh…"

I don’t have the money.

Every penny I have is tied up in cryptocurrency, and I’ve maxed out my loans.

The $1 million I managed to secure was already a stretch.

"Is there no other way…?"

If I can’t use my money, there’s only one solution.

I have to use someone else’s money.

Having made my decision, I moved to take action.

Not that it was anything dramatic—just sitting at my desk, pretending to be busy.

I scribbled random things in my notebook, stared at the Bloomberg terminal as though searching for something important, and let out deep sighs that seemed to reach the depths of the earth.

"Sigh…"

At this point, you’d think someone would approach me.

But no one does.

I’m still paying the price for my rapid promotions.

I’m currently on the bad side of the M&A associates.

However, there’s one person in this department who can’t ignore me.

"Is there a problem?"

It’s Dobby.

Every project I’m assigned to also includes Dobby.

We’re practically tied together by fate, so my concerns naturally become his concerns.

"It’s just… my thoughts are a bit tangled."

"Because of the next teaser?"

The results of the second teaser I provided to Pierce are almost in.

Seven out of ten have already been successful.

One more hit, and it’ll confirm an 80% success rate.

It’s about time to craft the third miraculous teaser.

But here I am, the unicorn, sighing heavily instead of working on it.

From Dobby’s perspective, it’s understandable that he’s worried.

"What’s not working?"

"It’s just… tricky. The stock price will definitely go up, but it doesn’t seem particularly beneficial for the clients. It’s unlikely to lead to a merger or acquisition, and securing additional shares is difficult… It’s a skyrocketing company, but it has no overlap with M&A work."

After saying that, I carefully observed Dobby’s expression.

Believe it or not, I once learned how to read facial expressions from a former CIA special agent.

My hedge fund hired him to teach us.

It’s not unusual in this industry.

At hedge funds, you often meet CEOs face-to-face in numerous meetings.

The ability to detect lies gives you an edge.

But that’s not the point right now.

The emotion on Dobby’s face is clear: greed.

Would a unicorn discover a skyrocketing stock and just let it go?

Of course not.

"Then… why not buy the stock directly?"

It worked.

"I’m considering that too."

"Really?"

Dobby’s eyes returned to my screen, but I closed the document I was working on.

The disappointment on his face made it clear—he was hoping to mooch a free pick.

Shameless guy.

"What stock is it?"

"Secret."

"Why, you don’t want to share?"

Of course, he wants to know.

It’s the miraculous unicorn pick, after all.

"Well…"

While Dobby dragged out his words, I rolled my eyes, scanning

the office.

They're listening.

No one’s looking directly this way, but the hands of all the seniors around me have stopped moving.

Everyone’s perked up their ears, laser-focused on my conversation with Dobby.

"If I ask you to share it, will you?"

"I don’t know. I could tell you, but… what do I get out of it?"

Dobby pouted his lips and grumbled.

"Ugh, then why even ask? You sounded like you were going to share it."

"Well… if there’s something in it for me, I might consider it."

"What kind of benefit…?"

I deliberately paused for a moment.

The tension in the office was palpable.

This is the moment when the only way to get the unicorn pick is about to be revealed.

"I’ve got the information, but I’m a bit short on capital. If you provide the capital, I might consider it. 20% of the profit. How about that?"

"…!"

In other words, I’m asking him to entrust his money to me.

For a small fee, I’ll manage and grow it for him.

A kind of underground hedge fund, you could say.

Everyone at Goldman trusts my success rate.

They’ve seen it firsthand, in real-time.

If I can gather their money and put it to work…

That’s my plan.

But whether they’ll bite is another story.

Even Dobby looks hesitant.

"You’re telling me to trust you and hand it over?"

He doesn’t distrust my skills—after all, he was trying to steal my pick just moments ago.

He’s wary, thinking I might run off with the money or backtrack on my word.

Such doubts are best addressed directly and openly.

"Come on. How close are we, really? Would you just hand over the money based on my word? What if I quit?"

"Why? Planning to take the money and disappear?"

"Not exactly, but the moment I resign, you’d naturally start to suspect that, wouldn’t you? And honestly, I don’t fully trust you either."

"Why not? I’m the one giving the money."

"Even if I grow the funds and return the profits, you could still claim you didn’t get what you were owed."

"I wouldn’t do that…"

"When investing, there are times when you have to wait for the exit point. If I don’t immediately hand over the money, you might throw a fit, saying I just took your money and ran. Even if we’re both making valid points, the one who gets labeled a scammer will be me."

It’s not just the investor who’s at risk—I’m exposed to my own set of potential problems.

"So, if we’re going to do this, we have to do it properly. No disputes. We’ll need a written loan agreement, clearly outline terms for profit reporting and fund withdrawal schedules, and even get it notarized."

For my informal fund, I plan to define the obligations through proper documentation.

Loan agreements and other legal safeguards will provide some protection.

I made sure to deliver my simplified plan loud enough for the listening associates to catch every word.

"Hmm, now that I think about it, this sounds like too much hassle. Forget it."

I ended with an air of indifference, as if I didn’t care.

There’s no advantage to me pushing too hard here.

"What? No, wait, why?"

"It’s too much effort. Besides, it doesn’t seem like it would make a significant difference to my capital."

"Even if it’s not a big difference, isn’t a small difference still worth it?"

As expected, Dobby reacted predictably.

When the bait was dangled in front of him, he was immediately suspicious.

But the moment I withdrew it, he clung to it again.

"Forget it. I was just talking. Pretend you didn’t hear anything."

I stood up, patted Dobby’s shoulder a couple of times, and grabbed my coat.

"What? Where are you going? We’re still talking!"

"I’m going out for dinner. Might be back late."

It’s better to leave the scene at times like this, giving Dobby and the associates room to talk freely.

If they run off to spread rumors to other departments, even better.

The buzz about a unicorn quietly recruiting investors for a rogue fund might be just what I need.

"I wonder how much I’ll gather…"

That’s something only time will tell.

While Dobby does the legwork, I’ve got other matters to attend to.

As I arrived in the lobby, someone greeted me with a bright smile.

"Ah, Sean!"

It was Rachel.

"Sorry, am I late?"

"No, I just got here too."

"Great. Shall we go?"

Today, I made a special reservation at a nearby restaurant.

I have an important goal to achieve.

Thanksgiving is just around the corner, and I still haven’t received the princess’s invitation.

I need to secure it tonight.