With the Omni-7 now an open book, its vast knowledge accessible without linguistic impediment, Min-jun shifted his focus from acquisition to application. The devastating images of the 1997 IMF crisis were burned into his mind, a constant reminder of the urgent need for action. He spent days, then nights, immersed in the future's financial archives. He analyzed market trends, corporate histories, and predictive algorithms from 2030, meticulously piecing together a strategy. His objective was clear: generate significant capital, swiftly and discreetly, to secure his family's future and provide a bedrock for his grander ambitions.
His focus narrowed on the burgeoning technology sector. While many established giants of 1990 would still grow, the most explosive returns lay with nascent companies on the cusp of revolutionizing their fields. He found it: a small, relatively obscure American personal computer company named Dell. According to the Omni-7's future financial news, Dell was set to go public in June 1990 and would experience an astronomical rise in value over the coming years, turning early investors into millionaires. The opportunity was immense, a guaranteed windfall.
But a stark, undeniable truth confronted him: he was ten years old. He had no money beyond a meager allowance, no bank account in his own name, and certainly no legal identity to participate in the stock market. Direct investment was impossible. He needed a proxy, a trustworthy adult who could execute his instructions without asking too many questions, someone who wouldn't be overwhelmed or compromised by the sheer scale of the potential earnings.
He mentally sifted through his limited social circle. His mother, while fiercely supportive, was too emotionally close; the burden of such a secret might distress her. Relatives, though kind, were prone to gossip and would undoubtedly pepper him with questions he couldn't answer. Teachers, bound by professional ethics, would feel obligated to report a child prodigy with such "advanced" knowledge, potentially attracting unwanted scrutiny. He needed someone loyal, discreet, unwaveringly honest, and, crucially, someone who wouldn't be intimidated by the prospect of handling large sums of money. The individual needed to possess a strong moral compass, unswayed by greed.
Then, a name surfaced in his thoughts, a comforting presence from his early childhood: Mr. Park Sung-ho. Mr. Park was a close friend of his late father, a man of quiet integrity who had served as an accountant for decades before his recent retirement. Min-jun remembered Mr. Park's gentle smiles, his genuine warmth, and the quiet dignity with which he carried himself, even after his wife's passing the previous year had left him a widower living a solitary life. He was precise, meticulous, and possessed a deep understanding of financial matters – qualities that would be invaluable. More importantly, Min-jun recalled the genuine respect his father had held for Mr. Park's character. He was a man who valued trust above all else.
The challenge wasn't just finding the right person; it was how to approach them. He couldn't simply present the Omni-7 and explain its futuristic capabilities. Such a revelation would be too incredible, too destabilizing. It might evoke fear, disbelief, or even suspicion. No, the device itself had to remain his secret. He had to present himself as the source of this extraordinary knowledge, a child prodigy with an unparalleled grasp of economics and foresight. The results, not the device, would be the proof.
The following afternoon, after carefully observing Mr. Park's routine via Jia's access to publicly available information about his address and local activities, Min-jun set out. He carried a small, carefully wrapped gift: a basket of fresh, plump persimmons, a favorite of Mr. Park's, purchased with a portion of his allowance. He walked with a deliberate, confident stride, the small basket swinging gently at his side.
Mr. Park's modest home was quiet, its garden slightly overgrown, reflecting its owner's solitude. When Min-jun knocked, Mr. Park opened the door, his eyes widening in surprise, then softening into a warm smile. "Min-jun-ah! What a wonderful surprise! Come in, come in."
They settled in the small, tidy living room. The air was filled with the faint scent of old books and dried herbs. They chatted about mundane things – school, the changing seasons, the local market. Min-jun spoke with his usual quiet maturity, listening intently, occasionally offering a thoughtful comment. He allowed a comfortable rapport to build, carefully assessing Mr. Park's mood, his receptiveness.
After a suitable period, Min-jun placed his teacup down, his gaze steady and unwavering as he met Mr. Park's eyes. His voice, usually soft, carried a newfound gravitas that surprised even himself. "Mr. Park," he began, his tone calm and composed, "I have been studying economic patterns quite extensively recently. And I've identified something… an idea that I believe could be very profitable. Immensely profitable." He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle. "But, as you know, I am only ten. I need an adult's help to execute this. I need you to trust me."
Mr. Park blinked, a slight frown creasing his brow. "Profitable, Min-jun? What do you mean?" He chuckled gently, assuming it was a child's imaginative musings. "Are you talking about investing in the stock market? That's quite a complex endeavor, even for adults."
"Indeed, it is," Min-jun affirmed, his composure unwavering. He then reached into his small satchel, pulling out a thick, leather-bound notebook. It wasn't just any notebook; it was one he had meticulously filled over the past few days, using the Omni-7. It contained incredibly detailed analyses of recent stock market movements, precise predictions of daily fluctuations that had already occurred, and complex financial models – all back-dated to appear as if he had been tracking them for weeks. The data, copied directly from the Omni-7's historical market archives, was presented with the neat, precise handwriting of a diligent scholar.
He opened the notebook to a page detailing the previous week's trading activity for several major Korean companies, complete with projections for the upcoming week that mirrored the future reality he had accessed. "Take this, for example, Mr. Park," Min-jun said, pushing the notebook across the low table. "This is my analysis from last Monday. It predicted the exact rise in KOSPI by 1.2% by Friday, and the unexpected dip in Daehan Motors on Wednesday due to a specific labor dispute that has yet to be publicly announced."
Mr. Park picked up the notebook, his initial amusement fading, replaced by growing puzzlement. As he scanned the pages, his eyes, accustomed to the intricacies of financial ledgers, widened almost imperceptibly. The charts were expertly drawn, the figures precise to the decimal. The analysis was insightful, reflecting a depth of understanding he would expect from a seasoned market analyst, not a child. And the predictions... they were eerily accurate, detailing minor market movements that even professional traders often missed. The "labor dispute" detail was particularly unnerving; he hadn't heard a whisper of it.
He flipped through more pages, each one filled with meticulous detail, complex calculations, and astonishingly accurate forecasts of past market behavior that Min-jun had presented as his own foresight. He looked up at Min-jun, his expression a mixture of profound shock and dawning awe. He was stunned into silence, holding the notebook as if it were an ancient, magical codex. The quiet afternoon air seemed to hum with the impossible truth laid bare before him. Min-jun simply waited, his gaze calm, allowing the undeniable proof to speak for itself.
Mr. Park is clearly intrigued and astonished. What specific next steps would Min-jun propose to Mr. Park regarding the investment, and what kind of commitment or arrangement will they make?