Reborn in America, I am a legendary short seller on Wall Street.

Chapter 23: Short Selling is the Only Option in a Dismal Market

Mr. Ammon was still recovering from his illness, and the gray-haired temporary front desk manager was still standing in the counter manager's position. He noticed that Larry walked up to the price list, and his thick eye bags were almost bulging like a frog's cheeks.

Larry glanced at the quote, then took out his notebook to study the market information for a while before walking to the counter and pulling out a $500 bill.

"Short 200 shares of Tennessee Sugar and 100 shares of Continental Express at the current price!"

The teller behind the counter was the same one who had handled Larry's first transaction with Brontë. He glanced at the $500 Larry handed over, his lips twitched, and he said in a cold voice, "..."
“From now on, your margin will be 2%, Mr. Livingston.”

Larry was taken aback. A two-point margin was two dollars, which meant that with the same amount of money, Larry could trade half the number of stocks.

"Why?" Larry raised his voice.

"No reason why! It's just two dots."

"It's everyone in this business hall..."

The teller coldly interrupted Larry, "No, it's specifically targeting you, you gambling addict. Our company thinks a one percent margin is too lenient for you. Starting today, your margin will be two percent. If you're not happy about that, please close the door behind you from outside the branch."

Larry was furious, but he wasn't surprised that the gambling house was targeting him in this way.

Larry had already anticipated that the betting companies would try to trick him. It's like how casinos won't tolerate a gambler who always wins against them.

However, despite his anger, Larry vaguely felt that the gambling house's move was actually not very effective for him.

Because he now has a lot of money, enough for him to buy as many stocks as he feels is necessary, even if the margin cost doubles.

Furthermore, Larry is now determined to follow Mr. Porter's advice to minimize the influence of luck on trading and to allocate positions more cautiously.

Larry was cautious enough when placing this order. He knew that the market was in a bleak state and that there wouldn't be much movement on such a trading day. However, he could take advantage of the low market sentiment to short some poorly performing stocks and make a limited but high-probability profit.

After a moment's thought, Larry accepted the situation, took out another $100 from his pocket, and handed it to the teller again, along with the previous $500 bill.
"200 shares of Tennessee Sugar and 100 shares of Continental Express, at the current price, short!" Larry said decisively.

This time, the teller had no argument. He reluctantly accepted the $600, took the transaction form, and began filling it out.

"Short 200 shares of Tennessee Sugar at $12.6, with a margin of $2 per share."

"Short 100 shares of Continental Express at $5 and a quarter of a dollar, with a margin of $2 per share."

After filling in the rest of the transaction form, he rolled his eyes and said, "The transaction fee is $1. This will be your transaction fee from now on."

Larry pulled a one-dollar coin from his pocket and slammed it on the table.

The teller handed the transaction slip back to him.

Larry gave the teller a cold look and stepped aside.

In the trading hall of the betting company, there were many people going long and short. Early clients sat on the few rows of wooden chairs, while latecomers stood on the floor.

However, these customers were all complaining that the market was too bleak today, and the quotes were coming in much longer than usual.

Every time the quote machine clicks and clacks, customers crane their necks, hoping it will be their turn to get a quote for their stock, but most are destined to be disappointed.

Larry, however, was in no hurry because he was observing the entire market and had started shorting based on the overall dismal state of the stock market. Therefore, he was not concerned about the price changes of Tennessee Sugar or Continental Express itself.

At this moment, every latest quote coming from the kiosks confirmed Larry's earlier assessment—in this bleak market, short selling was the only option. Almost every stock was slowly declining; the drops weren't drastic, but the trend was irreversible.

As midnight approached, Larry received the latest quotes for the two stocks he had shorted:
Tennessee Sugar, $12.4.

European express shipping, $5.1.

Both stocks fell slightly, but not by much.

Larry felt there was no need to waste any more time there, so he folded the transaction slip and put it in the inside pocket of his coat, casually touched the pistol under his arm, pushed open the door, and walked out of the betting company's trading hall.

As the doors of the gambling den closed, the manager and his staff all let out a long sigh of relief.

Larry didn't go straight back to Paine Weber Securities, but instead strolled down the shopping street.

Because he had promised to buy Tom a gift.

As we walked past the department store and Cherry Valley Pharmacy, we could already see the alleyway leading to Brattle Bookstore. A red-haired man sauntered out of the alley and nearly bumped into Larry.

"Logan? Where are you going?"

Larry recognized the person who came.

Logan heard Larry's greeting and turned around abruptly. When he saw that it was Larry, a smile appeared on his face, and his freckles piled up.

“Hi, Larry! It’s Mr. Hemings. He asked me to pick up something three blocks away.”

Larry looked Logan up and down. Despite the freezing weather, Logan was still wearing the thin coat Larry had worn the last time he saw him, his hands tucked into his chest, with a thick scarf wrapped around his neck in an attempt to get more warmth.

"You should wear more clothes, at least buy a down jacket."

"Oh, Larry, well, well. Mr. Hemings gets paid the day before Christmas, so I'll have to wait a bit longer."

"Haven't you been to the betting shop lately?" Larry asked.

Logan patted himself helplessly. "If I had money, I would buy an alpaca wool coat first."

Larry's heart skipped a beat. He took out $20 from his pocket and carefully chose his words, "Mr. Porter gave me a raise, so I'm willing to lend it to you first. It's too cold, so I'll buy you a coat... Well, you can pay me back when you get your salary."

Logan's face flushed slightly, but after a moment, his body betrayed him as he reached out and took the $20 Larry offered.

"Thank you, I will pay you back after the Christmas holidays."

"Okay, we'll see later. I have something to do too, see you later." Larry waved to Logan, then slowly strolled into the shopping street.

Logan clutched the $20 in his pocket, watching Larry's figure disappear around the street corner before pursing his lips, turning to leave.

As soon as he peeked out from around the alley corner, the cold wind on the street made him shiver. Logan thought for a moment and muttered, "To hell with Mr. Hemings, I need to go buy some clothes! This damn winter is freezing me to death."

Without further hesitation, Logan crossed the street and headed towards the clothing store across the street.

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(End of this chapter)