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CH91 | DI
🕑 Added 2025-04-22 07:22:42 +0000 UTCDex Slater, also known as the Great White Shark, appeared on the program ‘Market Mastermind’.
It’s a fairly prestigious economic news show.
I wanted to watch it immediately, but it was 2014.
“Buffering…”
With the internet speed of this era, it was impossible to stream a broadcast on a moving train.
Simple web surfing and checking emails were the best one could manage.
After a few attempts, I clicked my tongue and shook my head.
“Is something urgent? Work-related?”
Rachel asked with a concerned look.
I smiled at her reassuringly.
“No, it’s nothing urgent. I can watch it at home.”
Anyway, Epicura’s response would come on Monday. Although I’d received a text about an emergency meeting scheduled for tomorrow, that didn’t mean I needed to watch the broadcast right now.
I only needed to confirm it by tomorrow.
With that thought settled, I checked the time.
It was about two hours until New York.
‘Should I take a nap…’
I closed my eyes with that thought.
But as soon as darkness swallowed my vision, a vivid image flashed in my mind.
Beep, beep, beep.
It was the sight of Amelia I had witnessed today.
Her bizarre, balloon-like appearance was deeply engraved in my memory.
‘Not again…’
My hands and feet turned cold in an instant, and my breathing became labored.
It felt as if I wasn’t getting enough oxygen with each inhale.
A sense of fear crept in—fear of suffocating or collapsing from a heart attack.
It was now a recurring symptom of panic disorder or PTSD.
‘Well, it makes sense this time.’
I had witnessed someone with the same illness as me waiting for death with the same symptoms.
It felt as though I had glimpsed my own death.
‘Forget about sleeping.’
Far from falling asleep, the scene grew more vivid the more I closed my eyes.
To erase the lingering image from my mind, I impulsively picked up my smartphone.
I tried to search for articles related to Epicura or Shark Capital, but the letters blurred and floated, making it impossible to read properly.
I couldn’t distract myself like this.
It might be better to start a conversation. When I looked to my side, Rachel was reading a book.
“You said you arrived yesterday, right? Around what time?”
When I asked the question, Rachel lowered the book onto her lap and replied.
“Around 11 p.m. I came after finishing work…”
“It’s fortunate your schedule worked out. Coming here on the weekend couldn’t have been easy…”
“They were considerate since it was an urgent matter.”
Usually, analysts were required to work even on weekends.
But Rachel was a princess, and her department’s MD was desperate to please her.
Getting the weekend off was no big deal for her.
‘What should I talk about next…?’
I wanted to ask something about Kissinger, but there were too many ears in the train—it wasn’t a wise choice.
The same went for topics about Theranos or Epicura.
The only conversation suitable for this space was light small talk.
But I couldn’t think of any topics.
Should I ask about recent updates?
“I’ve been so busy lately that I haven’t even asked how you’ve been. Are you doing well?”
As soon as I asked the question, a moment of unease passed through me.
Recently, I had deliberately reduced the number of times I met Rachel.
This raised the possibility that it could be interpreted negatively.
Meeting Gerard and Raymond and then suddenly creating distance?
It could give the impression that I’d abandoned her after she was no longer useful.
“I’m sorry. I’ve just been so preoccupied…”
I subtly hinted that, despite being busy, my interest in her remained unchanged.
Rachel nodded in agreement.
“I feel the same way. I’ve been so busy I haven’t even had time to ask about you…”
“Are you overloaded with work?”
“It’s work, but also…”
“Oh, because of Castleman Research. I noticed you’ve been studying a lot.”
“Yes, but that’s not all…”
Rachel hesitated for a moment before cautiously speaking.
“Actually, I’ve also been preparing for a gallery opening.”
A gallery?
Could she be dreaming of quitting again?
“As I mentioned before, your experience at Goldman could be a solid foundation…”
“Oh, it’s not like that! I don’t plan to open it right away…”
Rachel hurriedly waved her hand, clarifying.
“I also intend to finish my contract before leaving. I’m thinking of opening the gallery afterward. There’s about a year and a half left.”
“Then why already?”
“You have been planning since six months ago, haven’t you?”
Well, that’s true.
“If you’re serious about starting a gallery, it’s better to prepare now rather than rushing later.”
If someone was genuinely planning something big, that made sense.
The reason I was a little surprised was that I didn’t expect Rachel to actually pursue her gallery dream.
“So, you were serious about it.”
“What? Oh, yes. Regardless of success, I just want to give it a try.”
Rachel replied shyly.
Then, as if trying to hide her reddened face, she quickly continued speaking.
“Did I tell you before? I want to create an organization to support unknown artists…”
“Oh, yes, I remember.”
She had mentioned it when she followed me to Philadelphia once.
She had said she wanted to create an organization but needed to observe and learn how to connect with like-minded people.
Back then, I thought it was just talk, but I was wrong. Rachel had genuinely taken inspiration from that encounter.
“Watching you, I realized something. What matters are money, willpower, and action. Thankfully, I have the capital, so all I need is to act. That’s why I visited the artists I had been keeping an eye on. I bluntly told them I wanted to secure their works in preparation for the gallery opening…”
Just as I had forcefully approached David with a $50 billion offer, Rachel too had approached artists she liked, handing them checks to purchase their works and commission new ones.
She was determined to start actively collecting pieces for her gallery now and was fully engrossed in that task.
“It’s all thanks to you, Sean.”
“What did I do?”
“You’ve been so busy lately.”
How could that be a good thing?
“Remember when I said it felt like I was wasting time at Goldman…”
Rachel stared into the air with a wistful expression before lifting her gaze to meet mine.
Then, she smiled brightly.
“It wasn’t because of Goldman—it was actually because of me. I was just waiting passively for an opportunity. But nothing comes no matter how long you wait, so time felt like it was dragging, and I felt powerless and bored. But now, it’s completely different. Time feels too short.”
“I see.”
“I should have taken action myself, but it took me this long to realize it. It feels like a waste, but I’m also grateful I realized it now. That’s why I’m always thankful to you, Sean.”
“I didn’t do much, though. In fact, I’m the one receiving help for the foundation work…”
“No. If it weren’t for you, I would have just kept waiting, blaming my unhappiness on everything else.”
She seemed to see me as a kind of savior.
While it was a good thing, the way she expressed her gratitude so sincerely made me feel incredibly embarrassed.
“I’m glad to hear that.”
Not knowing how to respond, I mumbled that and tried to brush it off, but Rachel smiled brightly.
It was a smile I couldn’t look away from.
Feeling parched, I grabbed a water bottle and drank, noticing others in the train car sneaking glances at us.
‘Well, it’s understandable.’
Rachel was practically radiant at the moment.
The sight made my head throb again.
If she smiled like that at Goldman, it was bound to attract countless pests.
And if one of them succeeded in wooing Rachel, the first thing they’d probably demand was for her to cut ties with me.
I couldn’t let that happen.
But as Rachel and I continued talking, those worries gradually faded.
“I’ve been looking for a space, but surprisingly, there aren’t many good ones…”
“She probably doesn’t even have time to meet people.”
Rachel was incredibly busy, juggling her work at Goldman, studying about Castleman, preparing for the gallery, and hunting for artists.
I could put my worries about pests aside for now.
“Let’s see…”
Rachel seemed to be doing fine.
Theranos and the drug development were both progressing smoothly.
So why did I still feel uneasy deep down…
As I pondered that thought, midnight arrived.
【Time of Death: March 11, 2023】
【Remaining Time: 3,268 days】
【Survival Rate: 6.3% (+0.2pp)】
***
When I arrived home, I immediately searched for and watched the broadcast featuring the Great White Shark.
In the past two weeks, the Great White Shark had launched two fierce attacks.
In the first attack, he accused Epicura of being a “dictatorial corporation trampling on shareholder rights” by referencing the ignored temporary shareholders’ meeting.
In the second attack, he highlighted the losses from the current sale by comparing them to the expected profits from separating real estate.
Today marked the third attack.
This attack was distinctly different from the previous ones.
For one, the Great White Shark appeared in person.
Until now, he had relied on recruiting panelists for various broadcasts or dispatching PMs from Shark Capital, so his direct appearance was unprecedented.
The focus of the conversation also shifted significantly.
This time, the emphasis was not on criticizing Epicura but on the choices made by the Great White Shark himself.
[Why are you targeting all 12 seats?]
The host asked a sharp question.
Though he smiled outwardly, his intense gaze emphasized that this was not a mere formal interview but a serious investigation.
[You’ve likened Epicura to a dictatorship, yet you’re attempting to take all 12 seats yourself. It seems like stopping one dictator by creating another.]
[That’s not true. It’s all necessary for shareholder rights.]
[‘Necessary’… It’s hard to see 12 seats as simply ‘necessary.’ Rumors are swirling on Wall Street that this is a grudge after your temporary shareholders’ meeting attempt failed.]
[So, it’s about pride?]
[Exactly.]
The Great White Shark chuckled and shrugged.
[If it were about pride, I would have gone for just 9 seats. That would have been powerful enough and guaranteed victory. But 12 seats are a different story. As you said, it risks making me look like a dictator, and the chance of failure is high.]
[If not pride, then what’s the reason?]
[There’s suspicion that another motive lies behind this sale.]
[A motive?]
[Shareholders are the owners of the company. Conducting a fire-sale without providing any explanation to the owners…]
The Great White Shark suddenly stopped mid-sentence.
Then, with a faint smile, he provided an example.
[Imagine this scenario: you own a house and have entrusted it to several managers. They decide to sell it at an incredibly low price. Naturally, you object, but while you’re following proper procedures, the managers rush the sale. Even now, they haven’t explained why they did it. How would you feel?]
[Like they’re hiding something?]
[Exactly. Wouldn’t you suspect there’s some issue with the property they’re trying to conceal, prompting them to sell it cheaply?]
The Great White Shark used a simple yet relatable analogy—one that resonated far more than abstract concepts like “shareholder rights.”
[As the homeowner, you’d want to know what the issue was, but the ownership has already transferred. You’re now unable to access the property. In such a situation, what would you think?]
[Hmm, the rushed sale might seem like an attempt to block access. It could even feel like evidence is being destroyed.]
[That’s exactly it. They’re hiding something. To ensure no one discovers it, they hurriedly finalized the sale.]
The Great White Shark was insinuating the presence of a ticking time bomb.
He suggested that Epicura had compelling reasons to dispose of Harbor Lobster urgently within a specific timeframe—reasons that had to remain hidden.
[What do you think they’re hiding?]
[Well, I don’t know. Isn’t that the point of rushing the sale—to destroy the evidence?]
[But surely, you can speculate.]
[Let’s consider historical cases. Corporations like Enron and WorldCom have been caught manipulating their books.]
[Are you saying Harbor Lobster engaged in such schemes?]
[Who knows? But if that’s the case, and the real value was only $600 million, yet they faced exposure, they might have confessed this to a specific buyer and sweetened the deal by throwing in real estate. That would explain the fire-sale price.]
The Great White Shark, much like Pierce once did, suspected some form of corruption.
He hinted at potential accounting fraud or embezzlement.
[Come on, you’re jumping to conclusions without evidence.]
[Yes, I’m spinning a tale. But that’s how absurd and incomprehensible this sale was—it leads to such extreme speculation. Turning this conjecture into fact requires concrete evidence.]
[Evidence… but hasn’t Harbor Lobster already been sold?]
[Correct. But there might still be clues within Epicura. Those who can uncover them are the board members.]
[Ah! So that’s why!]
The host’s expression suddenly lit with realization.
The Great White Shark smiled with satisfaction and continued.
[Precisely. The current board unanimously approved the sale, all twelve members. If an investigation were to proceed with even one of them involved, would you expect honest results?]
The Great White Shark skillfully reframed the narrative.
He was no longer a challenger trying to topple a dictator.
He positioned himself as an investigator aiming to expose crooked managers selling the house for a song.
With this perspective, his push for all twelve seats wasn’t about greed or pride.
It became a necessary step based on the obvious logic: “You can’t let a suspect participate in the investigation.”
[Not a bad strategy.]
The Great White Shark was likely to continue using the ticking time bomb metaphor and Epicura’s suspicious actions to fuel his crusade for the truth.
However, Epicura was in no position to reveal the truth.
They couldn’t admit that they had rushed the sale to offload unprofitable assets for a pittance.
In the past, Epicura would have silently endured such attacks.
But things were different now.
Epicura had a counterattack card I had handed to Whitmer.
The reason Epicura had maintained its silence was to wait for the perfect moment to strike back.
When the Great White Shark began speculating about the motives behind the sale, that was the signal.
A loud signal had just been fired from the Great White Shark’s mouth.
Now it was our turn to retaliate.
