It began as a bold experiment in the world of digital finance—a platform promising commission-free cryptocurrency trading, founded by a descendant of Swiss banking royalty and nestled in the heart of Switzerland’s so-called “crypto valley.” But by early 2025, Lykke, a UK-registered crypto exchange, had collapsed under the weight of a devastating cyberattack, leaving customers fuming, courts in motion, and international investigators pointing fingers at one of the world’s most notorious hacking syndicates: North Korea’s Lazarus Group.
According to a detailed report from The Telegraph and corroborated by the British Treasury’s Office of Financial Sanctions Implementation (OFSI), the Lazarus Group—a cyber gang widely believed to operate on behalf of the North Korean regime—was blamed for a $22.8 million theft of Bitcoin, Ethereum, and other digital assets from Lykke. This brazen heist not only shuttered the Swiss-based trading platform but also triggered a wave of lawsuits and liquidations, and, perhaps most critically, underscored the persistent global threat posed by state-backed cybercriminals.
Lykke’s story began in 2015, when Richard Olsen, great-grandson of legendary Swiss banker Julius Baer, launched the platform in Zug, Switzerland—a region affectionately dubbed “crypto valley” for its embrace of blockchain innovation. Though its operations were Swiss, Lykke maintained its registration in the United Kingdom, aiming to attract a global clientele with its zero-fee trading model. At its peak, the company was lauded as a disruptive force in the digital asset space, drawing in retail investors eager for a new way to trade cryptocurrencies.
Yet, behind the scenes, regulatory warnings were already flashing. In 2023, the UK’s Financial Conduct Authority (FCA) issued a stark notice: Lykke was not registered or authorized to offer financial services to British consumers. Despite this, the platform continued to operate, and users continued to entrust their funds to the company—until disaster struck.
Late last year, Lykke announced it had been the victim of a crippling cyberattack. The OFSI, in a report cited by The Telegraph, attributed the attack to “malicious Democratic People’s Republic of Korea cyberactors, who stole funds on both the Bitcoin and Ethereum networks.” The platform’s losses—$22.8 million, or roughly £17 million—were staggering, and the fallout was immediate. Lykke froze trading, promising to return customer funds, but by December 2023, it had ceased operations entirely.
For many, the finger of blame pointed squarely at the Lazarus Group, a collective infamous for orchestrating high-profile hacks worldwide. Whitestream, an Israeli cryptocurrency research firm, independently accused Lazarus of the Lykke heist, stating the hackers laundered the stolen funds through two cryptocurrency companies notorious for facilitating transaction obfuscation and sidestepping anti-money laundering controls. As Whitestream explained, “They moved the funds using platforms that basically ignore money-laundering rules.” This, they argued, made tracking the digital loot nearly impossible.
However, not everyone is convinced. Some researchers have pushed back, cautioning that the evidence linking Lazarus to the Lykke attack is circumstantial at best. They argue that, given the complex and often opaque nature of blockchain transactions, it remains difficult to definitively identify the perpetrators. As reported by The Telegraph, these dissenting voices maintain that “it is not currently possible to determine who hacked the exchange.”
Regardless of the ongoing debate over attribution, the consequences for Lykke and its users have been dire. In March 2025, more than 70 customers—claiming losses totaling £5.7 million—filed a winding-up petition in UK courts. The court promptly ordered the company into liquidation, and Interpath Advisory was appointed to oversee the distribution of remaining assets. Meanwhile, Lykke’s Swiss parent company had already entered liquidation in 2024, as the financial and reputational damage proved insurmountable.
For Richard Olsen, the founder who once dreamed of revolutionizing crypto trading, the fallout has been personal and severe. He was declared bankrupt in January 2025 and now faces criminal investigations in Switzerland, according to British legal filings. Olsen has not responded to media requests for comment, and his silence has only deepened the sense of uncertainty for those still seeking answers and restitution.
The Lykke saga is not just a tale of one company’s downfall, but a window into the broader, shadowy world of crypto crime. North Korea’s Lazarus Group has been linked to a series of audacious digital heists in recent years, allegedly siphoning billions of dollars from exchanges around the world. These stolen funds, Western officials say, are funneled into Pyongyang’s nuclear weapons and military programs—an alarming example of how virtual assets can be weaponized to evade sanctions and finance rogue regimes.
As The Telegraph reported, the Lykke incident could represent North Korea’s largest known cryptocurrency theft from a British target to date. The attack, if confirmed as the work of Lazarus, would add another notch to the group’s growing list of high-profile victims, stretching from Asia to North America and now, unmistakably, to the heart of Europe.
But the story also raises uncomfortable questions for the cryptocurrency industry and regulators alike. How could a platform flagged by the FCA for lacking proper authorization continue to attract users and significant deposits? Why did so many retail investors ignore regulatory warnings, only to find themselves empty-handed after the hack? And, perhaps most urgently, what more can be done to protect digital assets from increasingly sophisticated, state-backed cybercriminals?
For now, the answers remain elusive. The Lykke collapse has left more than 70 customers fighting for the return of their lost funds, with Interpath Advisory tasked with the unenviable job of sorting through the wreckage. The Swiss and British authorities continue their investigations, but the ultimate fate of the stolen millions—and the identities of those truly responsible—may never be fully known.
What is clear is that the Lykke hack stands as a cautionary tale for the crypto world: in the race to innovate, the risks are real, the stakes are high, and the adversaries are more determined than ever.
