Greetings, everyone. My name is Jozenji Suzuka.

"The Nikkei average stock price is crashing dramatically—"

This year, I turned thirty. I never paid much attention to age, but reaching this milestone made me realize how fast time flies.

"This rate of decline is historic, surpassing even the Lehman Shock—"

Even after turning thirty, my lifestyle hasn’t changed much. I go to work, come home, and spend my days playing games, watching videos on streaming services, or fiddling with my phone. Nothing exciting.

"Along with this, the yen is appreciating rapidly, recording an 18-yen increase compared to the previous day—"

Oh, right. Just when you think life will stay the same forever, it can suddenly turn upside down.

"Haha… haha… my balance has come to this…"

Tears stream down my face, yet a smile is plastered on it. I’m losing my mind. That’s right, it’s me. Jozenji Suzuka.

The TV blares about a crash worse than the Lehman Shock. My phone, sitting on the desk, buzzes with notifications about forced liquidation risks due to market fluctuations. The computer screen displays losses too painful to look at. Everything around me tightens my stomach, making bile rise with a sickening unease.

I’m a single guy with no expensive hobbies. If left alone, my savings would’ve piled up decently. It all started when I began investing to avoid working forever. At first, I left it to mutual funds since I didn’t know much. But the ups and downs of my assets got interesting, and before I knew it, I was day trading and dabbling in forex.

It started with small trades. But when I got heated trying to recover losses, I raised the leverage. I got lucky and won big once. That was the start of it all—or rather, the beginning of the end.

Ping!

My phone chimes, and a new notification appears. It reads, "Your position has been liquidated." In other words, "Your forex losses exceed your balance, so we’re forcibly closing your trades." Simply put, I lost so much in forex that my balance is now zero.

I shift my gaze to the screen. The balance, which once glowed with seven figures in yen, now pathetically shows 334 yen—a four-digit number no more.

I couldn’t think. Lately, the market toyed with me relentlessly. Every move to cover losses only deepened them. My vision blurred, and for the first time, I felt the blood drain from my face. "It’s fine. I can still do this. I’ll recover next time. It’ll definitely go up from here." I believed that, only to be betrayed. The market moved against every bet I made. I seriously wondered if someone was watching me, manipulating the market to drive me insane.

And today, the final liquidation.

I lost everything.

Despair.

I’d once been so cocky, thinking I could achieve FIRE—early retirement. Now, a deep sense of emptiness engulfs me.

But strangely, part of me feels relieved. I was obsessed, staring at charts, waking up multiple times at night to check the market, consumed by forex to the point of tunnel vision. Being forcibly kicked out of that life mixes emptiness with a sense of freedom. That’s probably why tears flow endlessly while my lips curl upward.

Without wiping the tears streaming down my face, I grab my phone and call work.

"Good morning. This is Jozenji. Is the manager there?"

"Hey, Jozenji. What’s up? You’re not here yet—feeling sick?"

"Yeah, that’s right. No fever, but I’m overwhelmed with emptiness and fatigue. I’d like to take the day off."

"You okay? Vacation approved. Any urgent work that needs handling today?"

"No, work’s fine."

"Got it. You’ve seemed off lately. Rest up and take care."

"Thank you. Goodbye."

They approved my sudden leave without hassle. I’m grateful for a decent company and boss.

I place the phone on the desk, grip the armrests, and push myself up. My body feels weak, and I stumble as I stand, heading toward the bed.

(I’m so unsteady. I haven’t slept properly lately. Maybe I’ll play some games when I wake up.)

I haven’t just been sleep-deprived—stomach pain has kept me from eating properly, too. My body’s at its limit. I collapse onto the bed, thinking of the dusty game console, and quietly drift into sleep.

Chapter 1: 1. Goodbye, All My Wealth

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