July 10, 2008. 5:20 a.m.

The New York Mercantile Exchange.

It had opened in 1872 as the Butter and Cheese Exchange of New York and started trading crude oil futures in 1983. Now it was a giant that handled 67 percent of the world's oil futures.

NYMEX, as everyone called it, was as quiet as any weekday.

"Think oil'll hit another record today?"

"Are you nuts? It's already at a record..."

"Look at those crazy pit traders. They're pushing like they're sure the sun'll come up tomorrow."

"Morons."

"Ugh! Still, Bill, we held our own."

"Feels like walking on thin ice. One wrong step and we're done..."

"Just thinking about it is horrible."

On the second floor, traders who'd finished the overnight session drank coffee and nursed their fatigue, looking down at the oval floor in the middle of the exchange.

With danger signals for the world economy flashing everywhere, crude oil and other raw materials kept soaring like mad.

Most of the traders had a pretty good idea.

This dangerous bubble was going to burst soon.

But no one would stick his neck out for everyone else. (TL Note: The Korean is "shoulder the rifle"—step up and take the risk on behalf of the group.)

As long as it wasn't them, fine.

On a battlefield, there were always winners and losers.

"David, doesn't the flow seem strange to you lately?"

"What do you mean?"

"Prices are going up, but it feels like somebody's slyly swapping out the sell orders."

"Bill, you noticed too?"

"You too?"

"It's got to be those new traders. What they've pulled in one year..."

"They were like a swarm of ants. Once they latched on, they won, every time!"

"Damn it... it's like they're sweeping up all the money in this business."

Traders Bill and David looked off to one side with envy.

There stood the new traders who'd appeared out of nowhere one day.

They looked like solo traders, and at the same time they moved like a single body.

In fact, they barely knew one another.

But their win rate was incredible.

"August…