On Christmas morning, the children woke up early and rushed straight to the Christmas tree by the living room fireplace.
“Oppa! Wake up quick! We have to check Santa’s presents!”
He wanted to tease his sister for still believing in Santa, but lacking confidence in handling the aftermath, James rubbed his sleepy eyes and walked to the living room.
Pajama-clad kids were already circling the tree, and Sam Walton sat in a chair with a grandfatherly smile.
“Come on over. As you all know, Santa Claus is a very busy man. He usually doesn’t make requests like this, but he specially asked me to deliver your gifts for him.”
Santa would never normally ask a grandfather to deliver presents, but if it was Sam Walton—the founder of Walmart—it somehow felt plausible.
The clever Walton kids sparkled their eyes as if they believed him, and Sam, enjoying his grandchildren’s anticipation, handed out gifts in order.
James neither believed in Santa nor felt his forty-year-old mental age suited receiving Christmas presents—it was a bit embarrassing—but the act of receiving gifts felt good, so he quietly lined up behind his sister.
“This year, Santa definitely prepared what you wanted.”
Last year at Sam Walton’s house, James received a Batman figure shirt as a Christmas gift and failed to convincingly act delighted.
Seeing a slightly disappointed expression, the adults felt regret and ignited their competitive spirit.
Determined to see James’s truly happy face this year, they had activated Walmart’s strategy team a month earlier to select items he’d love.
Sam handed over a large box with a confident face, and James, seated to the side, opened it under everyone’s gaze.
“Wow! It’s Woody and Buzz toys!”
“Those are hard to get because stock ran out. Lucky gift.”
“I already have them—Dad bought me some. Kids at school were super jealous.”
Removing the wrapping revealed the main characters from Toy Story, which had become scarce due to production miscalculation.
Walmart’s strategy team had called Mom beforehand to ask if she’d bought Woody or Buzz dolls at stores or toy shops.
Since James had received them early through Pixar and didn’t need to buy any, Mom answered no.
Thus, they assumed James didn’t have them and procured the sold-out first-edition figures.
But he already owned autographed versions from the voice actors and commemorative figures directly from Pixar headquarters.
“Wow. These are exactly the toys I really wanted.”
Momentarily flustered, James felt the expectant gazes more intense than his own and forcibly acted excited.
Mom and Dad, grasping the situation, nodded and said it was great to receive something sold out everywhere.
“Oppa! We already have the exact same ones autographed by Tom Hanks and Tim Allen. Now we have duplicates? I got a limited-edition Barbie castle house set!”
Thanks to his sister, James’s acting was exposed, and the mood grew awkward.
“Pfft… hahaha!”
Warren Buffett, watching the scene, burst into laughter, and others couldn’t hold back and joined in.
“Looks like Santa was so busy he made a delivery mistake. I made a logistics program once—errors keep happening no matter how perfect you try to make it.”
James said sheepishly, and Jim Walton agreed there seemed to be a shipping issue.
“Anyone want to swap gifts with me?”
“I want Woody. I have Buzz but not Woody.”
“I have Woody but not Buzz.”
He handed the toys to kids who wanted them; they didn’t particularly need what they’d received, so no swaps occurred.
“The gift I received is mine, so it’s okay if I do what I want with it, right?”
“Yeah. James is already grown up.”
The Christmas morning mishap resolved nicely, and James separately received a scarf and gloves from his parents as gifts.
Since he didn’t have to work this time, they stayed at Sam Walton’s house only until Christmas, then returned to Seattle.
“I’ll visit during spring break.”
“Sure. Send related documents by fax and mail in advance. You must bring Jenny too.”
Promising to meet Warren Buffett again, they returned home and welcomed 1996.
“Thank you! James. I’d have been in big trouble without you.”
“It’s the year-end and New Year season, so it’s busy as expected. We’ll hit another sales record this time.”
“I expected it to be busy, but not this many orders piling up.”
James spent the remaining short winter break visiting Amazon.com headquarters and helping Jefferson.
Year-end and New Year spending in consumerist America was incomprehensibly massive.
Amazon.com, being an online bookstore, had let their guard down a little, but orders exploded, causing chaos; James stabilized the error-prone program and barely resolved the crisis.
“You saved us. By the way, is it true you met Warren Buffett?”
“Yes. He agreed to help organize my stakes here and there. I was already worried about taxes starting this year—lucky me.”
Jefferson Bezos envied that James had been introduced to Warren Buffett at Sam Walton’s house over Christmas.
“Yeah. Preparing taxes early is really important. Plenty of people go bankrupt ignoring it. Still, meeting Warren Buffett—jealous. Your wealth and connections already seem on a different level from mine.”
“Jefferson, you’re a promising startup CEO—why say that? In my view, Amazon.com will grow bigger than Yahoo or Netscape. Don’t you know from how much time I spend here?”
“Haha. True enough. I’ll work hard to grow the company for our biggest shareholder.”
Helping Jefferson without major incidents, daily life passed quickly; school resumed, the first part of the semester went by, spring break arrived, and James headed to Omaha where Warren Buffett lived.
“You sing really well too. Still, don’t become a singer if you can help it.”
“Investing is this much fun—why would I become a singer? I won’t let my sister go into entertainment either, so don’t worry.”
Warren Buffett liked jazz and blues; instead of dancing, James and his sister performed a duet ballad.
Since his wife continued an obscure singing career, Buffett surprisingly understood music deeply and had considerable knowledge of the entertainment industry.
He said it wasn’t recommended—an industry that ran more on human desire and emotion than strategy and planning.
After brief conversation, they began serious discussion on taxes and asset management.
“Transferring stakes to a corporation for tax avoidance is good, but converting everything isn’t wise.”
“Meaning I should keep some in my personal name even if paying taxes?”
“Right. Holding even 1% personally is advantageous for handling contingencies. This world can turn into a muddy fight over stakes anytime.”
Buffett explained simply at young James’s level, but with prior-life company experience, conversation flowed better than expected.
Topics gradually became professional, and James quickly obtained needed information and help.
“Let’s formally register the investment company during this break. Have you thought of a name?”
“I was considering K Invest or ROK Holdings.”
“What does K stand for?”
“K for Korea. I want to spark a Korean boom in the investment market.”
“Putting a specific country in the company name doesn’t seem wise. Usually people use their own name.”
James had considered that initially, but since everything trendy in the future gathered under K, he wanted to use it early.
Yet as Buffett said, a more common name was needed; combining K with his surname Yoo, he created KYO Invest.
It could be misread as a Japanese company, but with Japanese capital still circulating heavily, it was good camouflage.
“To make tracing harder, create both KYO Invest and KYO Holdings and cross-hold shares—that’s best.”
With Buffett’s help, the company formed easily, and stake transfers began.
As thanks, James bought some Berkshire Hathaway shares in his and his sister’s names.
The volume of documents requiring signatures was far greater than expected; diligently reading and signing contracts, a week passed quickly.
“Then I’ll see you in summer break. Please take care until then.”
“Come once in between if you have time. There’s still much to handle.”
“Buffett, you’re busy too—nothing urgent, so take it slow.”
Barely a middle schooler, James asked the sixty-something Warren Buffett to handle it casually and returned to Seattle for the new semester.
“This time not waiting at school, but at a friend’s house? Surely you’re not investing there too?”
“These people are truly tiny operators—no investment plans at all. Plus, Grandpa Buffett said no investing until the corporation settles and taxes are due this summer.”
As always this year, Dad had to go to Stanford University in San Francisco for a conference; with no Yahoo office left, James said he’d wait at a friend’s house instead of school.
Dad dropped him at the acquaintance’s house on the way from the airport and said he’d pick him up here after the conference.
DING DONG!
He rang the bell, but no answer came; music played inside, and pushing the door found it unlocked.
Inside the small house, two adult men had Macarena playing and were dancing the trending steps.
“James! The dance is almost over—just wait a sec.”
“You got that part wrong. Put hands on hips, shake, then turn right.”
The two dancing Macarena in the small house were Allen Musk and his younger brother.
Having decided against grad school to start a company, Allen Musk called his brother to build a map-based yellow pages service site.
Starting with so little money, relying only on youth and bootstrapping, they surprisingly produced something decent.
“James, look at this. Enter a zip code here, and nearby business lists come up.”
“You manually entered all this? Total grunt work.”
“I’m confident in all-nighters.”
Chatting programming with the Musk brothers, James made one request.
“There’s something I want to buy, but it’s not sold in Washington state where I live—okay to buy it here?”
“Of course! Let’s go get it right now!”
“It can’t be kept at my house, so leave it here and you two use it for me. I’ll use it each time I come to San Francisco.”
The two, holding infinite trust and affection for James, agreed, and he took them to a nearby Saturn dealership.