So, I had my little trading account, and my head was full of stuff I knew was going to happen – big companies getting bigger, Bitcoin popping up, all that. Problem was, knowing what to buy in the future was one thing. Knowing how to buy and sell it right now, in the year 2000, with charts and numbers I only vaguely remembered from some boring college class? That was a whole different game. I was like a guy who knew where gold was buried but only had a plastic beach shovel. I needed real tools, real know-how.
I started asking around at the library, even discreetly at the café. "Is there anyone around here who's, like, really good with stocks? Like, really good?"
After a few dead ends, Mrs. Oh from the café lowered her voice one evening. "Well, there's old Mr. Choi. Lives up on the hill, the big, slightly rundown house. He used to be a big shot in Seoul, some kind of financial wizard, they say. Made a fortune, then just… retired here. People say he's eccentric. Keeps to himself."
Mr. Choi. The name rang a distant, foggy bell from my adult life, some whispered legend about a trader who made unconventional, brilliant moves. This could be it.
The next Saturday, instead of playing soccer, I found myself hiking up the hill to Mr. Choi's place. It was bigger than the other houses, with a proper gate, but the garden was overgrown, the paint peeling a bit. It looked like a house that was once grand but was now just… tired. I took a deep breath and knocked.
A long silence. Then, the door creaked open, and an old man with sharp, intelligent eyes under bushy white eyebrows peered out. He was wearing simple, comfortable clothes, but he had this aura about him, like he could see right through you.
"What do you want, boy?" his voice was raspy, impatient.
"Mr. Choi?" I stammered, feeling like a nervous kid, which, well, I was. "My name is Kwon Min-jun. I… I want to learn about the stock market. From you."
He snorted, a dry, dismissive sound. "Learn from me? I'm retired. And I don't teach children how to gamble away their parents' money. Go play with your computer games." He started to close the door.
"Wait!" I blurted out, putting my hand up. "I'm not a normal kid. I mean, I know I look like one, but… I've read about you. About how you started, how you looked at things differently. I believe I can do that too. I just need someone to show me the ropes."
He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You've read about me, eh? And what makes you think you're special?"
"I… I just have a feeling about things. A strong one. And I'm willing to work, harder than anyone. I won't ask for money, just your time. Your knowledge." I was laying it on thick, but I was desperate. This was my best shot.
He studied me for a long moment. It felt like he was x-raying my soul. "You're a persistent one, aren't you?" He sighed, a long, drawn-out sound. "Alright. No pay, you understand? You shadow me. You do what I say. And if you're a nuisance, you're out. Got it?"
"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!" I could barely contain my relief.
"Don't thank me yet," he grumbled, opening the door wider. "Come in. And try not to break anything."
I stepped inside. The house was dim, filled with books stacked everywhere – on shelves, on the floor, on tables. It smelled like old paper and faint pipe tobacco.
"Yoo-jin!" Mr. Choi called out. "We have a… guest."
A moment later, a girl came out from another room. She was about my age, maybe a year older. And wow. She wasn't "model" pretty like some girls I'd seen on social media in 2025, but there was something… captivating about her. She had long, dark hair, a calm, intelligent face, and eyes that seemed to look right at you, not judging, just… seeing. She moved with a quiet confidence that was kind of mesmerizing. She just had this presence, you know? Like she was completely comfortable in her own skin, and it made you want to be comfortable too.
"This is Min-jun," Mr. Choi said. "He thinks he wants to learn about markets. Min-jun, this is my daughter, Yoo-jin."
"Hi," she said, her voice soft but clear. She gave me a small, polite smile, but her eyes were curious, a little amused, maybe.
"Hi," I managed, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward. Here I was, this guy with a 42-year-old brain, feeling like a tongue-tied teenager all over again. Just something about her made my palms sweat a little. Maybe it was how she just looked smart, or how she didn't seem bothered by anything.
And so began my real education. Mr. Choi didn't "teach" in a normal way. He'd sit in his worn armchair, surrounded by stacks of financial newspapers (real paper ones!) and charts, muttering to himself. He'd make me read articles aloud, then grill me. "What does that really mean, boy? What are they not saying?" He showed me how to look at price movements, trading volumes, not just as numbers, but as stories of human fear and greed. He talked about investor psychology, about bubbles and busts, about looking for value where no one else was.
It was tough. My brain, used to fast-paced tech info, had to slow down, to learn patience, to see patterns in what looked like chaos. I was basically his gofer – fetching him tea, organizing his papers, running small errands. Yoo-jin was often around, usually reading or studying, sometimes helping her father with his research. We didn't talk much at first, but sometimes our eyes would meet, and she'd give me that little, knowing smile.
I'd go home late most evenings, my head buzzing with stock market jargon and Mr. Choi's gruff wisdom. Eomma and Appa would be waiting up, worried.
"Min-jun, so late again? What is this old man teaching you that keeps you out till all hours?" Eomma would fuss.
"It's important, Eomma. It's for the future," I'd say, too tired to explain properly.
One night, as I stumbled in, exhausted but also weirdly energized, Hana, half-asleep on her futon, mumbled, her voice still with that cute little lisp, "Oppa… you got a giwlfwend now?"
My face flushed beet red. "What? No! Hana, go to sleep!"
I heard Eomma and Appa chuckling softly from their room. My cheeks burned even hotter. Great. Now even my seven-year-old sister thought I was chasing after Mr. Choi's daughter. Which, if I was being totally honest with myself, wasn't completely off the mark. Yoo-jin was… interesting. Really interesting. But first, I had a future to build. And a whole lot more to learn from the old man on the hill.