South Korean retail traders lost about $250 million to investment scams in the first half of 2026, according to a Reuters report published today. The number comes from claims filed by investors, and it rose by about a fifth from the prior period. The detail that matters is when this happened: during the KOSPI's record run. The market was going up, with heavy swings along the way, and scammers found plenty of room to work precisely because everyone around was making money.

I want to sit with that mechanism for a minute, because it's the part people skip. Scams don't sell themselves as scams. They sell themselves as the thing you wish existed. When the market is roaring and your neighbor doubled his money on some leveraged product, a stranger promising a guaranteed 30 percent return through an exclusive channel sounds less absurd than it would in a calm market. Greed and envy do the persuading. The con artist just collects.

It's worth saying that plainly, because the usual assumption is that scams feed on desperation after losses. Sometimes they do. But a volatile rally is fertile ground too, arguably better ground, because the money is flowing, the mood is confident, and everyone's guard is down. Big swings also mean some people are up big while others are up less, and the ones lagging behind the crowd are exactly the ones tempted by a shortcut. The scammer doesn't need the market to fall. He just needs it to feel like an opportunity you're missing.

It helps to be clear about what these schemes usually look like, since they're rarely exotic. Fake brokerage apps with convincing interfaces. Private chat rooms where a "teacher" posts screenshots of winning trades. Romance angles that drift into cryptocurrency tips. The packaging changes; the core trick, getting you to hand over money before you've verified anything, never does.

Some ground rules have served me for forty years, and they cost nothing:

Guaranteed returns don't exist. Not 10 percent, not 5 percent. Anyone guaranteeing anything is either lying or doesn't understand what they're selling, and both should end the conversation. Legitimate firms are registered, and you can verify a registration in about ten minutes with the relevant regulator. If a platform or advisor can't be found in a public registry, you have your answer. And pressure, the "this opportunity closes tonight" pitch, is itself the red flag. Real investments are available tomorrow. I've never once had to rush into a legitimate one.

The uncomfortable truth is that the investors most likely to fall for scams in a rally are often the ones who feel they're falling behind. Somebody watching others get rich wants their share. The scammer knows that. If you feel that itch this year, the disciplined move is the boring one: reassess, rebalance, keep contributing small amounts to something broad and cheap. Not chase.

There's a lesson in this for the rest of us watching from anywhere, too. Volatility doesn't just move prices. It moves judgment. The same market swing that lifts your portfolio also makes you a slightly worse evaluator of a too-good offer, because everything around you seems to be working. Knowing that about yourself is a form of protection no regulator can provide.

When did you last check whether the platform holding your money is actually licensed? Ten minutes, a regulator's website. Cheapest insurance you'll ever buy.

The usual disclaimer: I'm sharing perspective built over four decades of managing my own money, not professional financial advice. If $250 million in losses during a boom tells us anything, it's that the slow, verifiable path beats the fast, unverifiable one. It always has.