Chapter 83: Entering the Stock Market

William and Alexander spent the entire day at the ski resort. When they were tired, they would head to a restaurant or café to eat and drink coffee. After resting, they would go back to skiing. William became enthralled with the thrill of speeding down the slopes and couldn't get enough. They skied until nearly dark before finally heading back to the villa.

That evening, Alexander decided to showcase her cooking skills and prepared a Brazilian dish, feijoada. It was a black bean stew with various smoked meats, sausages, pig's ears, and pig's tails. William thought it was decent but a bit too greasy.

Alexander had been worried that William might not be accustomed to ingredients like pig's ears and tails, but to her surprise, he enjoyed the feijoada without any reservations and ate with gusto.

Brian and the other Americans, however, struggled to appreciate the dish. They typically avoided offal and cuts like pig's ears and tails, so they stuck to drinking beer and eating grilled meat, barely touching the feijoada.

Seeing William enjoying the dish she made, Alexander felt overjoyed. She believed William was eating the pig's ears out of love for her, and she watched him eat with adoration, occasionally cutting pieces of grilled meat and placing them on his plate.

Though Alexander couldn't eat much herself, watching her beloved enjoy her cooking warmed her heart.

Brian and his team, seated nearby, were bemused by the couple's public display of affection. They were feeling overwhelmed by the amount of "dog food" being served.

Brian Mills couldn't bear to watch any longer. He stood up and offered, "Anyone want more grilled meat? I'll go cook some."

"Count me in. I prefer mine well-done," Sam said, getting up.

"Can you grill a couple more for me, please? Well-done too. Thanks," William added.

His appetite had doubled lately. After finishing a large bowl of feijoada and two pieces of grilled meat, he still wasn't full.

"Dear, you shouldn't eat too much at night. It's not good for digestion," Alexander said with concern.

"It's okay. I'm only half-full. For some reason, my appetite has doubled, and my strength has increased significantly. I used to get full with much less food," William replied.

Clarence, the team's part-time medic, looked puzzled and asked, "Boss, did your strength increase after your appetite grew?"

William thought for a moment and nodded. "Yes, it seems that way. I wasn't this strong before. Now, I feel like my strength has multiplied several times. Do you know why this might be, Clarence?"

Clarence pondered for a moment and suggested, "Boss, you might be experiencing a second growth spurt. You're not yet twenty, and it's possible to grow taller and stronger between twenty and twenty-five. I recommend you get a full check-up when you have time."

William had a pretty good idea of what was happening. His body was continually being enhanced by spatial magic, strengthening his bones and muscles. He knew that once the transformation period was over, his appetite would likely return to normal.

"Alright, I'll get a full check-up when I return to London," William agreed.

After dinner, everyone stayed in the dining room, drinking beer and chatting. William took the opportunity to learn more about the USA from Brian and the others. They talked about Apple, basketball, and the current president, Benjamin Arthur. They also joked about the current Secretary of Defense, Ruth McMillan, who was known for her compassion and tendency to cry often on TV—a trait they found baffling.

The group chatted until 10 PM before dispersing. William and Alexander washed up and went to bed. Alexander had been sleepy earlier, nodding off against William during their conversation, which prompted the group to call it a night.

Despite enjoying a fun-filled three-day vacation in Switzerland with Alexander, William remained vigilant about the stock market every night. Everything appeared to align with his previous life, reassuring him. On the evening of the 6th, William called Phillips.

"Hello, this is Phillips. Mr. Devonshire, what can I do for you?" Phillips answered.

Holding his phone, William said, "Phillips, your vacation is over. Gather the team. We're resuming operations tomorrow."

"Understood, sir. We'll be ready. See you tomorrow," Phillips replied.

The next day, William arrived early at the National Bank's VIP room. Ten traders were already waiting for him, sensing that today's move would be bigger than the last.

Brian Mills and his team meticulously scanned the VIP room with anti-surveillance equipment multiple times. Sam sat at the computer to check the network security. After giving William a thumbs-up indicating everything was secure, William nodded. He stood by the window with a glass of Château Latour, quietly observing the distant forest.

He felt a surge of excitement. Opportunities like this only came once in a decade, and the odds were heavily in his favor. The impending crash of the Nasdaq was not yet on anyone's radar because the trigger wasn't in the tech sector itself.

Although there were many issues, the real cause of the tech stock crash would be the drag from the biotechnology sector—a fact that experts would only identify in hindsight, years later.

Everyone in the room could sense the magnitude of the impending move. Despite William's youth, his serious demeanor exuded a powerful presence, creating a tense atmosphere. Everyone remained silent, focusing on their tasks.

"Mr. Devonshire, there are five minutes until the US market opens," Phillips reminded.

William nodded and said, "Let me know the Nasdaq opening price."

Five minutes later, a trader shouted, "The market is open!"

"What's the Nasdaq at?" William asked.

"5043 points," the trader replied.

William thought for a moment but remained silent. Ten minutes passed, and the trader called out again, "5044 points."

William still didn't react. Half an hour later, the trader shouted, "5045 points."

"What's the trading volume like?" William inquired.

Phillips quickly answered, "The volume is low. There are a lot of buyers, but not many sellers."

Damn, it's now or never. Resolving to act, William immediately instructed, "Sell short, $350 million, 3% margin rate, three-month futures."

"What?"

"Am I hearing this right? Is he crazy?"

"Shorting the market? How is that possible?" The traders were shocked, hesitating to act.

"Mr. Devonshire, are you sure about shorting the market?" Phillips asked urgently.

"It's at 5046 points now," a trader called out.

"$350 million, 3% margin rate, three-month futures, short the market, now! Immediately!" William commanded with burning intensity. "Or you can all leave, and I'll do it myself."

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