I slowly rolled the die in my hand.
The heavy yet smooth sensation rolled across my palm.
‘As expected, it’s well made.’
This die was crafted from a rare metal called tantalum.
Because it did not rust or change, it was a material known as the ‘metal of eternity.’
A precious metal used only in aerospace industries, medical devices, or the finest luxury watches.
Inside it, an RFID chip was hidden.
Containing my signature, serial number, and ownership information.
A die that existed nowhere else in the world—one of a kind, belonging only to me.
‘If it were up to me, I’d roll it right now, but………………’
This was not a toy.
It was a tool used only when making big decisions. It had to wait until the moment I truly needed to stake everything.
For example, after the outcome of this meeting came out.
“Not only did they refuse to negotiate, they chose to confront us head-on.”
“It seems they took us lightly.”
That was right.
Right now, a strategy meeting of Cure Fund’s core members was in progress.
“The resistance is strong. With this level of pressure, they should be willing to give up at least one board seat.”
My goal was to enter the board of CRISPR Medical.
To do that, I had filed a Schedule 13D and pressured them quite aggressively.
Drawing media attention and clearly signaling my intent for an all-out fight.
Yet even now, when they should have been willing to yield a seat or two. freēwēbηovel.c૦m
CRISPR Medical’s resistance was unusually strong.
Even though a proxy fight like this was a major loss from management’s perspective.
A proxy fight carried not only direct costs, but also fatal risks such as damage to corporate image, stock price volatility, and loss of trust.
So usually, companies preferred to concede a board seat and end it there rather than endure all that.
Surprisingly, CRISPR Medical chose to face it head-on.
The implication was simple.
“They think they’ll win for sure if it’s a direct fight.”
You only compromise before a fight if there’s a chance of losing.
They were confident of victory.
And that confidence was not unfounded.
They had considerable friendly forces backing them.
I looked at the shareholder composition chart displayed on the screen.
Us: 5%
Management: 65% (Founders 22%, VC 18%, Pharmaceutical company 25%)
Undecided: 30% (Retail investors 2%, mid-sized institutions 3%, mutual funds 25%)
By the numbers alone, it was a landslide win for management.
They were probably relaxed because they trusted these figures.
In times like this, there was only one method.
“Let’s set their feet on fire.”
“Fire?”
“Right now, we’re like troops massed at the border. Yet the other side remains relaxed because they believe we can’t cross anyway. Then the only option is to cross.”
“Are you saying we should convene a shareholders’ meeting?”
“That’s right.”
The first step of a proxy fight was calling a shareholders’ meeting.
This was declaring our intent to take that first step.
If we showed our sincerity, wouldn’t the other side respond with a bit more good faith?
However, reactions in the meeting room were divided.
“Finally, a war!”
“This is getting interesting.”
The front office traders, PMs, and analysts had gleaming eyes.
On the other hand, the middle office—legal and risk management—looked grim.
They could already sense the coming overtime.
The legal team shuffled through documents and spoke up.
“CRISPR Medical is a Swiss corporation, so Swiss commercial law applies. Only shareholders holding 10% or more have the right to convene a shareholders’ meeting. With our current stake, we don’t meet the requirement.”
There were two ways to call a shareholders’ meeting.
Either the board resolved to do so, or shareholders with a certain level of ownership demanded it.
For us to act directly, we needed 10%.
With our current 5%, that meant acquiring an additional 5%.
But that was no easy task.
“The free float is extremely limited. Even the broker-held shares are fully locked up, so market accumulation is practically impossible.”
Under normal circumstances, I would have solved it with money.
By sweeping up shares in the market.
But now, all tradable shares were locked.
Pierce’s handiwork.
“In the end, the only option is to negotiate directly with existing shareholders………………”
I scanned the shareholder chart again.
To secure an additional 5%, we needed to catch a big fish.
In other words, the VC’s 18%, the pharmaceutical company’s 25%, or the mutual funds’ 25%.
We had to target them.
However, there was a problem.
“Isn’t CRISPR Medical a goose that lays golden eggs? There’s no reason to hand it over at this point.”
All the major shareholders were waiting.
Waiting for the day CRISPR Medical’s technology would be completed and start laying golden eggs.
At a point when the outlook was clearly bullish, who would willingly sell?
But I smiled.
“There are plenty of ways.”
If anything, there were too many options—that was the problem.
Wasn’t this exactly why I had prepared this in advance?
I finally rolled the die.
Rattle.
The tantalum die rolled across the table.
Its fifteen faces struck the surface in turn.
An irregular rhythm unlike a normal die.
Each time it touched the table, a heavy vibration resonated instead of mere noise.
The die bounced along an unpredictable trajectory………… and finally came to a stop, settling into a bizarre balance.
The winning number was…………
Five.
I smiled and turned to Nicole.
“Let’s start with the VCs. Begin with the ones closest to their exit.”
There were five venture capital firms holding a combined 18% of CRISPR Medical.
They were investors who had been with the company since its early days, when no one paid it any attention.
True partners who had provided capital and networks through its startup phase.
These were likely the backers CRISPR Medical’s management trusted most.
However, there were no eternal partnerships in business.
Their relationships would end someday as well.
For any VC, an exit to realize profits was essential.
And that exit did not necessarily happen only at the stock’s peak.
There was an even more important date………………
The fund’s maturity date.
Usually eight to twelve years.
As maturity approached, pressure from LPs (Limited Partners; investors) to return capital intensified, forcing liquidation even if the company still had room to grow.
I organized a list in order of funds nearing maturity.
And to meet them, I flew to Silicon Valley.
The first VC I met was NEAA.
An old and prestigious venture firm, involved not only in healthcare but across tech as a whole.
I got straight to the point.
“I want to acquire all of your CRISPR Medical shares at $20 per share.”
CRISPR Medical’s current share price was around $14.
$20 was a premium offer, but the other side laughed.
His face clearly said I must be joking.
I immediately continued.
“I understand the exit timeline to be about three years. I’ll make up the difference based on the valuation three years from now.”
“You’re saying you’ll include a CVR clause.”
“That’s correct.”
A CVR (Contingent Value Rights) was a conditional value payment structure.
In addition to the sale price, extra payment was settled based on future value.
Simply put, if the stock price rose to $30 in three years,
I would pay the $10 difference between that and the $20 paid now.
They had to exit within three years anyway.
Even if the stock skyrocketed ten years later, fund maturity meant they couldn’t wait.
In other words, their maximum return was capped at the maturity date.
And I was offering to buy at that future price, so it was hardly a losing deal.
Still, the VC representative clasped his hands and leaned back.
The corner of his mouth twisted oddly.
“As expected, I can’t get used to Wall Street’s way of thinking. We’re not an organization that moves based solely on returns. The essence of this business is ‘trust management.’”
VCs nurtured early-stage startups.
Their business began with discovering promising founders and promising to make them successful.
If rumors spread that they had stabbed the management they raised in the back by selling their shares, what founder would ever trust them again?
“We can’t take on that kind of reputational risk. What we do isn’t just investing—it’s building an innovation ecosystem.”
A superior smile spread across his face.
It was a chronic disease of Silicon Valley VCs.
They painted Wall Street as greedy hyenas and themselves as visionary world-changers.
“Returns aren’t everything. There are many values in the world more important than money. We pursue all of those values.”
His lofty attitude made me smile involuntarily.
Fine. Shall we test that?
“I agree. There are many things more valuable than money.”
That was something I knew better than anyone.
Things money couldn’t buy.
Among them, the most precious was…………
“Something like ‘time,’ for example.”
“Time?”
“Yes. Exiting three years earlier means more than just profit. It gives you time to seize other opportunities. For example………………”
I looked straight at him and said,
“An opportunity to invest in Next AI.”
“……!”
The VC’s eyes widened.
Next AI.
The absolute powerhouse of the AI industry.
Another goose that laid golden eggs—one everyone wanted a piece of.
What VC wouldn’t want to invest there?
But Next AI was a non-profit foundation.
Investment itself was fundamentally blocked—a sacred domain.
No matter how much money you had, there was no way in.
In fact, several Silicon Valley heavyweights had been turned away at the door.
And yet,
“There’s talk that they’ll soon spin off a for-profit subsidiary. Supposedly, only selected investors will be allowed to participate.”
The VC representative’s breathing grew ragged.
Next AI’s commercialization.
A rumor the industry treated with skepticism.
Even if it were true, it was obvious only a handful of insiders would be allowed in. frёewebηovel.cѳm
Even those would need to prove strategic synergy and present concrete contributions—Next AI was extremely selective.
But………………
‘He can’t just ignore what I’m saying.’
I was Next AI’s largest shareholder.
Would my voice not be reflected in deciding who became a new investor?
“If that opportunity comes, but your capital is tied up and you can’t participate—wouldn’t that be regrettable?”
Now he had to choose.
Between loyalty to the goose, and the opportunity of Next AI.
‘The answer is obvious.’
Still, he hesitated.
The talk he had just made about ‘the value of innovation’ and ‘the importance of trust’ seemed to bind his feet.
However, when you were living on borrowed time, you couldn’t afford to leisurely wait over trivial decisions.
I glanced at the artwork on my wrist and said,
“I’ll give you 15 seconds.”
“10 seconds.”
“5 seconds.”
“We’ll…… exit.”
He finally spoke with difficulty.
“I hope this deal won’t negatively affect our relationship.”
“Of course not. I hope we’ll continue to have a good relationship.”
This situation could easily be misunderstood as insider trading.
But it absolutely wasn’t.
I had never offered a direct quid pro quo.
I had merely mentioned that such an opportunity existed.
That was information available even as a circulating rumor.
More than that, I realized something anew.
‘It really is different.’
I had never experienced this level of overwhelming capital power in my previous life, so I hadn’t felt it firsthand.
Only now did I understand why massive capital was so frightening.
This wasn’t just about having a lot of money.
I was entangled like a spider’s web in the major business ecosystems.
It meant I held all the critical junctions.
Using that fact, I held similar meetings with the other VCs.
“Are you really okay with falling out with me?”
Faces turned pale at that single sentence.
It was a new experience.
Honestly………… it didn’t feel bad.
Anyway.
I finished meetings with all the remaining VCs in this manner.
Of course, not everyone accepted my proposal.
Some held out to the very end.
“I’m sorry, but we’ll decline. Trust with the founder is more important.”
I had expected there would be people like that.
To them, I played a slightly different card.
“Then how about neutrality instead of active cooperation?”
“What do you mean……?”
“All you have to do is abstain at the shareholders’ meeting. You don’t need to side with us.”
“If we do that…….”
“An opportunity ‘might’ come. Of course, on a somewhat smaller scale.”
Meaning an opportunity to invest in Next AI with a smaller stake.
Not betrayal—just silence.
“I’ll give you 10 seconds. Decide.”
This was fairly effective as well.
No one refused.
To sum it up…………
“We secured 7%.”
Combined with the original 5%, that made 12%.
We had surpassed the 10% needed to convene a shareholders’ meeting.
Then the next move was obvious.
“The legal team has prepared the documents to call the shareholders’ meeting. They’re ready to submit at any time.”
“Good. Let’s see how CRISPR Medical responds.”