A Wall Street Genius's Final Investment Playbook-Chapter 295: Side Story, The Marquis (1)

These days, Rachel was living fuller days than ever before. When she opened her eyes in the morning, the same words appeared on her smartphone screen.

―If today were the last day of your life, would you still do what you are about to do?

Steve Jobs’ question. Rachel’s answer was always the same.

“Yes.”

Even if the very end really came, she felt she would have no regrets. Just a few years ago, she had lived like a seed drifting on the wind, not knowing where she might be blown… but now it finally felt as though she had taken root. What she did, where she went—everything was her own choice. Days spent following her own dreams, not someone else’s advice.

Of course, that didn’t mean everything went the way she wanted. Even when you chose a direction, life sometimes led you down an unexpected path.

“As expected, you never know how things in life will turn out…”

The gallery project, too, was moving in a direction she hadn’t foreseen. What Rachel had originally envisioned was a space for non-mainstream artists. A gallery to support new artists who had yet to make a name for themselves, or those who hadn’t gained much public attention. She wanted to introduce their work to the world and connect them with buyers…

But now?

“Rachel, the app mock-up is ready, would you like to check it out?”

The programmer turned the laptop toward her. On the screen, side by side, were the layouts for a mobile app and a website. Clean design, intuitive menus. At the top of the screen sat a bold logo.

<Art Nest>

“A nest for artists.”

This was the gallery she had built now. But it looked quite different from her original vision. For one, it wasn’t a physical space but an online platform. And with its artwork sales and commission-connection features… it was closer to a marketplace than a gallery.

“All the main functions are complete. If you give us the artists’ information, we can upload it, and if you want to apply the prepaid system for commission requests…”

This system carried far more of the flavor of business than of pure art. In that sense, it was very different from the gallery she had once dreamed of… And yet, she was convinced this was the right path. Because this was the path she had chosen, guided by the advice on her laptop wallpaper.

―You need something burning inside of you. Whether it’s an idea, a problem, or an injustice you want to set right.

This was the direction led by her own “inner fire.” It all began one day, while continuing her work with the Castleman Foundation, when a sudden question occurred to her.

“Why does it feel so different?”

At first, she thought her gallery project and Ha Si-heon’s Castleman project were very similar. Both were about helping someone. Patients and artists—the only difference was the target. But over time, the difference became clear. Between Ha Si-heon and the patients, there was a kind of camaraderie. A bond and solidarity that only existed between comrades fighting together toward the same goal.

But Rachel’s project? A structure of sponsor and beneficiary. No matter how noble the intention, it carried an air of looking down from above.

“Why does this difference exist?”

After long reflection, Rachel realized the cause.

“I never once directly asked the people themselves…”

Ha Si-heon always explained all the medical information to the patients and left the decisions to them. And once they chose a direction, he only provided the resources to help carry it out. Rachel, on the other hand? She had simply assumed—“Unknown artists will need an exhibition space,” “It would be good to open a gallery”—deciding it all by herself. Without even asking whether that was truly their wish, or whether it was actually helpful.

“So that’s why it felt off…”

In the end, it was arrogance disguised as “good intentions.” Almost hubris. Perhaps that was why it had begun to feel so lacking in sincerity. It had become nothing more than a wealthy young lady’s self-indulgent charity play. The moment she realized this, her face burned with heat. She was ashamed.

But Jobs had also told her what to do in such moments.

―Sometimes when you’re innovating, you’ll make mistakes. The best thing you can do is admit them quickly and focus on improving.

“Yeah, mistakes happen to everyone.”

The important thing was to admit it quickly and keep moving forward. And not to repeat the same mistake. Once she realized that, Rachel went to the artists themselves and listened to their voices. But their response was unexpected.

“To be honest, gallery exhibitions aren’t really necessary. Even if unknown artists get shown, the works don’t sell much anyway.”

The artists… didn’t hold much expectation for galleries. From the start, they saw little chance their work would sell. So Rachel brought out the alternative she had prepared.

“Our gallery is planning to introduce a pre-purchase system. Even if the work doesn’t sell right away, the payment will be provided in advance.” 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

“Hmm, I see.”

But the response was still lukewarm. One artist hesitated, then spoke up.

“That’s really generous, of course… but it feels completely different when someone sees my work and says ‘This is it!’ and opens their wallet, compared to when a gallery buys it in advance for welfare reasons.”

Rachel was at a loss for words. She realized she was doing it again—making assumptions. She had guessed that what artists wanted most was financial stability, so she had introduced the pre-purchase system. But what they really needed was something else.

“I know. To be recognized purely for the quality of our work takes time… I hear most graduates of art school wait four or five years.”

“But until then, we still have to survive somehow, right? And if we’re working eight-hour shifts at a café or bar, we’re too drained to even paint. So our progress slows, and we end up stuck in a vicious cycle. If only we could earn money doing something connected to art. At least then the time wouldn’t feel wasted…”

What they wanted most wasn’t just financial stability—it was a life where their livelihood was connected to their craft. And that was the real challenge Rachel had to solve.

“How can I… help with that?”

Simply buying their work wasn’t the answer. No matter how noble the intention, that was still just charity. But what they wanted was independence. The problem was… in the current situation, it was nearly impossible for unknown artists to live solely by selling their work. Reality was harsh. Few people were willing to purchase pieces from new artists with no track record and little market trust.

“Should I ask Sean about this?”

The thought crossed her mind… But she quickly shook her head.

At present, Ha Si-heon was taking the lead and pouring full-scale investment into the AI field. He was even willing to clash head-on with famous macro funds in this battle over the future of AI! Who would be the one laughing in the end? Right now, Ha Si-heon was in the very center of what could only be called a “war” of AI investment frenzy. She couldn’t bring herself to bother him. She also didn’t want to become a burden, always receiving help without giving anything back.

‘My work… I have to solve it myself, don’t I?’

So she had to find the answer on her own. She felt anxious about whether she could truly do it… But then, one day, unexpectedly, a clue appeared.

She had been sitting absentmindedly in a café, weighed down with frustration, when her gaze wandered to the wall. There, a painting was hanging. Of course, it wasn’t an “art piece” traded in galleries… And that was exactly the point. The painting on the café wall wasn’t someone’s treasured artwork—it was decoration to fill a space.

“That’s it!”

Even an unknown artist with no credentials could sustain themselves through art. At last, she had glimpsed a path forward. Once her eyes were opened, she looked around with newfound awareness. Opportunities like this were everywhere, far beyond what she had imagined. Hospital waiting rooms, hotel lobbies, cafés, restaurants… Model homes, interior showrooms, even private homes where people wanted to express individuality—these all made use of such paintings.

In other words, a market already existed! Of course, the works hanging in those places were usually nothing more than mass-produced prints… But what if reasonably priced, custom-made paintings could be supplied instead?

“Surely, there must be people who would rather own a unique painting than a standardized print.”

If supply and demand could be connected properly, the potential was clear. Still, she knew not to jump to conclusions, so this time she decided to ask the artists’ opinions before taking action. And then—

“Interior commissions? That sounds great! As long as the work keeps coming in steadily…”

Their reaction was hotter than she had ever expected. At last, she had found a true breakthrough! But in life, nothing ever came easy. A new obstacle appeared.

“I’m sorry.”

There always had to be both sellers and buyers in a market. There was no shortage of sellers—the artists. The problem lay with the buyers.

***

In truth, Rachel had not anticipated trouble here. She thought all she needed to do was persuade interior companies that bought artwork in bulk. Conveniently, Gerard said he knew one such firm, so she prepared a flawless presentation and went to meet them.

But—

“Hmm, the idea is good.”

The reaction was lukewarm, not what she had expected. The man wore a polite smile, but that smile carried the meaning of a soft rejection.

“I’d hoped you would say the product was good, not just the idea. Could you tell me specifically what you don’t like about it?”

“There’s nothing in particular I dislike.”

“That worries me even more. If there was a flaw, we could fix it. But if there are no demands for improvement, doesn’t that mean there’s no need at all?”

The man gave a faint smile.

“You really understand business.”

“Honest feedback helps me more than anything.”

After a pause, he continued carefully.

“Then, to be perfectly honest… we don’t have any reason to buy individual artists’ works. Digital prints already serve our needs.”

“Yes, I anticipated that. That’s why we adjusted the price—we can supply original works at a price comparable to digital prints.”

“And that’s exactly the problem. If the price is the same, isn’t it safer to use proven products? With custom work, you can’t predict the result.”

“That’s why we prepared a system to reduce risk. Clients can review and revise during the draft stage, and if the final product is unsatisfactory, we guarantee a full refund.”

She had believed she was ready with answers for every objection, but the man sighed lightly.

“Rachel, do you know why we insist on using prints? Because all we need to do is call out a catalog number. With custom orders, we have to go through concept meetings, artist selection, feedback rounds… Why would we spend two weeks on something that can be finished in two minutes?”

Rachel thought carefully before replying.

“So in the end, efficiency matters more than uniqueness.”

“That’s business. We move with numbers, not emotions.”

The very thing Rachel believed was her greatest strength—custom commissions—was proving to be the stumbling block. For B2B clients, “individuality” was nothing more than another name for “inefficiency.”

“Since Gerard asked, we could agree to buy a few pieces on a trial basis, regularly…”

“No. If you don’t truly need it, I’d rather not force it.”

Rachel replied firmly. Such an arrangement would be difficult to sustain and ultimately meaningless. It would also go against the artists’ own desire for independence.

“But could you give me one more chance to persuade you?”

“A chance?”

“Yes. I don’t have the answer yet… but I believe there must be a point where the efficiency B2B clients want meets the creativity of artists.”

The man looked doubtful.

“I wonder if that’s even possible.”

“Give me just one month. I promise I’ll find the answer.”

At first, she brimmed with confidence. But as the deadline drew closer, her anxiety grew.

‘Why should people use Art Nest?’

On her PowerPoint, the cursor blinked in the blank space at the bottom of the slide, urging her to fill it. Hurry up and answer this question. But still, no sharp solution came to mind.

“Should I ask Sean for advice?”

As it happened, she found herself staying at David’s house alone with Ha Si-heon. If there was a time to ask for guidance, it was now. If anyone could provide a solution, it would be him. But strangely, the words refused to leave her lips. When they were with David and Jessie, it hadn’t been like this, but once they were alone, the air itself seemed to change.

Tick, tick.

The sound of the clock’s second hand seemed unusually loud.

Vroom. Clatter.

A car passing outside, the faint clink of a cup being set down. All of it suddenly became painfully noticeable. Every word exchanged, every small gesture… She didn’t know why, but for some reason, she was acutely aware of it all. Rachel murmured silently in her heart.

“This just… doesn’t feel like the right timing.”

Besides, Ha Si-heon was already so busy. Despite his packed schedule, he was taking what little time he had to trace early symptoms in Castleman patients. How could she burden him with her own personal struggles?

At the same time—

“This will only have meaning if I accomplish it with my own hands.”

A strange stubbornness had taken hold of her. For this project at least, she wanted to find the solution herself. Perhaps that was arrogance too. If she truly wanted to help the artists, asking for Ha Si-heon’s guidance would be the faster way. And yet… An odd desire welled up inside her. A desire to change the world, even just a little, with her own strength, without borrowing anyone else’s hands.

While she wrestled with this inner conflict—

“Would it be alright if I head back to New York first?”

Ha Si-heon left. Four days remained until the presentation deadline. But the answer was still shrouded in fog.

“Maybe… maybe I should at least ask Sean for a hint?”

She was still debating with her phone in hand when—

Knock, knock.

“Rachel, are you ready?”

Jessie’s voice came through with the sound of a knock. She glanced at the clock—it was already ten. Time to go see the Castleman patients. Rachel quickly shut her laptop.

“Yes, I’m on my way!”