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They reduced their stake by 3,214,096 shares, bringing Zymeworks down to a measly 0.95% of their portfolio. Less than 1%. It’s the financial equivalent of ghosting. They’re not completely abandoning ship – they still have a little skin in the game – but they’ve definitely moved to a safe distance. The quarter-end value dropped $50.35 million. A tidy sum. It’s a good thing they’re not relying on me for financial advice. I’d have probably invested it all in vintage champagne.

According to a filing with the Securities and Exchange Commission – a document, I confess, that usually sends me reaching for a bracing cup of tea – Redmile Group has increased its stake in Krystal Biotech. This wasn’t merely a nibble at the stock, mind you, but a substantial addition, calculated at the aforementioned $3.43 million, based on the average closing price for the final quarter of 2025. The total value of Redmile’s investment, as of quarter’s end, has swelled by $50.33 million, a consequence of both shrewd purchasing and the stock’s pleasing upward climb.

One is compelled to inquire: is this a venture worthy of capital, or merely another ephemeral bubble in the ever-restless sea of speculation? Let us consider the matter with a degree of circumspection.

Apparently, this Redmile group—they’re increasing their position in Scholar Rock. By a lot. $49.37 million. And the value of their existing shares also went up $84.58 million. It’s just…excessive. Like ordering a side of guacamole when you already know you’re going to spill it on your shirt. It’s tempting fate. And then they expect gratitude? For throwing money at a biotech company?

This investment, it turns out, constitutes 1.48% of Dean Capital’s reportable U.S. equity assets under management. Which, when you consider the sheer scale of the universe, is roughly equivalent to finding a specific grain of sand on all the beaches of Earth. (And then losing it. It happens.) Let’s take a peek at where else Dean Capital’s funds are allocated:

The long-term prognosis? Reasonably good. Not guaranteed, of course. Nothing in this universe is, except perhaps taxes and the inevitability of someone, somewhere, inventing a slightly worse version of something perfectly adequate. But Intuitive Surgical possesses certain… advantages. Let’s call them ‘sticky’ advantages, because once a hospital gets hooked, it’s remarkably difficult to pry the da Vinci system away.

And descend it has, somewhat. Though “somewhat” feels a cruel jest when measured against the initial ascent. Nvidia now trades at a multiple that, while still demanding, no longer threatens to induce a moral panic. Yet, Druckenmiller remains unenthusiastic. He does not rush back into the fold. No, he is not a creature of impulse, of herd mentality. He seeks… something more substantial. A value, perhaps, that whispers of enduring strength, not fleeting hype.

They had a stake, then they didn’t. That’s how things work in the markets. A fund buys, a fund sells. A man is born, a man dies. It’s all the same rhythm, if you listen closely. Now Condire reports zero shares. Zero. A clean slate. A quiet exit.

Sundar Pichai, a man who appears perpetually poised to deliver good news (or expertly conceal bad), now steers this vessel. His task isn’t merely to grow Alphabet, but to prevent it from becoming another cautionary tale – a bright star extinguished by hubris or, worse, irrelevance. This is the third installment of my observations on Alphabet for the Voyager Portfolio, and I confess, I approach it with a mixture of fascination and… apprehension. The scent of sulfur hangs faintly in the air, and one wonders if a certain gentleman with pointed ears has taken a keen interest in their progress.