Chapter 2: First Investment, Second Shock

Chapter 2: First Investment, Second Shock

Waking up ten years in the past comes with unexpected side effects.

For one, it’s hard to sleep. My mind, once sluggish from stress and failure, now raced like a trading algorithm on steroids. I had a decade’s worth of economic trends, pop culture explosions, and financial disasters locked in my head—and no time to waste.

By 6 a.m., I was already dressed in my old school uniform, sitting at my childhood desk with a calculator, a notebook, and my mother’s ancient laptop. My room still had a faint lavender scent I used to love. It felt peaceful. But my mind was anything but.

“Okay,” I whispered to myself. “We start small.”

In my past life, I had watched my father lose nearly five million yen investing in a flashy luxury real estate firm called Skyward Estates. It promised high returns, hosted lavish galas, and paid influencers to pose in empty penthouses. People were hypnotized by its glamour. But two years in, the CEO disappeared with everyone’s money.

This time, we wouldn’t be one of their victims.

Instead, I’d make sure we invested in companies that survived and thrived—even if they looked boring now.

First target: NexusPlay.

An ugly, barely functioning mobile gaming app that nearly tanked on release… until an unexpected update and streamer campaign sent it rocketing into global fame. Their stock had been 3 yen a share before the rise. Then it jumped to 1,300.

I didn’t need much. Just a few hundred shares. It would be enough to start building capital—and proof that I wasn’t just dreaming.

With the last of my childhood savings, I logged into my mother’s online brokerage account—bless her for using the same passwords for everything—and bought in.

Click.

Order complete.

I exhaled. “Phase one, done.”

Or so I thought.

That afternoon, I walked into school with more confidence than I had in years. My old classroom looked exactly the same—peeling motivational posters, a broken clock stuck at 3:47, and the faint smell of curry from the cafeteria drifting in through the windows.

But my perspective had changed.

People my age were worrying about quizzes and crushes. I was worried about stock portfolios, avoiding a financial apocalypse, and the growing suspicion that my mortal enemy had also reset his timeline.

As I slid into my seat, I noticed something strange: everyone was buzzing about a new student.

“Did you hear? He’s from a super rich family.”

“I heard his dad owns half of downtown!”

“No way, he’s transferring here?”

I almost ignored it—until the door slid open and the teacher announced, “Everyone, please welcome our new classmate—Hayama Daisuke.”

What.

I turned, slowly.

There he was. Crisp uniform. Impossibly neat hair. Calm, observant eyes that flicked through the room like he was scanning a stock market feed.

Daisuke Hayama. In my class. At my school. In this timeline.

I barely stopped my jaw from hitting the floor.

Our eyes met.

For a second, there was nothing. Then—just for a flicker—I saw it.

Recognition.

Not just curiosity. Not just politeness.

He looked at me like he knew me. Like he’d seen me fall. Like he remembered every deal I lost and every tear I swore I’d never let him see.

And I knew.

I wasn’t the only one reborn.

The rest of the day passed in a blur.

He was calm, charming, and infuriatingly perfect. Teachers loved him. Girls swooned. Boys respected him. And all the while, I was in the corner, recalculating every part of my plan.

Because if he had the same memories I did, he’d know about NexusPlay too. He’d know about Skyward Estates and the bakery chain, the 2020 tech boom, the 2023 tourism surge…

He could snatch every move before me.

But I refused to panic. I wouldn’t lose twice.

After school, I raced home, pulled up my trade confirmation—and my stomach dropped.

Someone had mirrored my NexusPlay order.

Same quantity. Same time stamp. One second behind.

Buyer: D.H. Capital.

I stared at the screen, fingers frozen.

This wasn’t coincidence.

Daisuke Hayama had been reborn.

He was watching me. Matching me. Competing with me.

And now he was sitting two desks away, smiling like we were just two students sharing notes instead of two reincarnated rivals waging a secret economic war.

I leaned back in my chair, slow and thoughtful.

“Well then, Daisuke,” I muttered, smiling to myself. “If you think I’m going down easy this time…”

I cracked my knuckles.

“Game on.”

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