It was the time right after lunch, when drowsiness crept in.
Everyone sat at their desks, struggling to chase away the heavy sluggishness, when the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the office. A group of men in black suits strode into the Rothschild Fund's Korea branch.
"Seoul Southern District Prosecutors' Office!"
The man with neatly combed hair and gold-rimmed glasses pulled a search warrant from his inner pocket, unfolded it, and announced in a loud, firm voice. The office instantly froze.
"From this moment, stop all work. Don't take anything with you. Stand up as you are and leave the office."
His tone was polite, but carried an undeniable weight of authority. The employees stirred in unease, unable to hide their bewilderment.
"What's going on all of a sudden…?"
"This must be because of the Hansan Group, right?"
"What else could it be?"
At that moment, one of the prosecutors approached with a blank, unreadable expression.
"Would you please stand up from your seat?"
The employees glanced at each other warily before slowly rising one by one. Just then, a female employee tried to take her planner, but a prosecutor immediately stopped her.
"Leave it where it is."
"This is my personal item," she said hesitantly, her voice subdued.
"Even so, you can't take it."
"It only has personal notes—nothing related to work."
"Did you not hear me? Do not touch it. Step away."
No matter how many times she pleaded, the prosecutor simply shook his head and refused. On the verge of tears, the woman had no choice but to leave the planner behind and step away from her desk.
The other employees were also forced to leave, clutching only their jackets and wallets, practically herded out of the office.
The prosecutors moved with swift precision, rifling through papers on desks, pulling open drawers, and sweeping documents into cardboard boxes stamped with the prosecution's emblem. Desktop computers were disconnected with one pull of the cables, and entire towers were seized.
True to their reputation as the "grim reapers of Yeouido" who specialized in financial crimes, the Seoul Southern District prosecutors conducted the raid with speed and professionalism.
Out in the hallway, the displaced employees watched anxiously as the prosecutors carried out boxes of seized materials.
Meanwhile, on the upper floor, the branch director's office was also under search and seizure.
John Howell, the branch director, hurriedly threw on his jacket before stepping outside with a grim expression. Moving quickly, he entered the elevator and descended to the underground parking lot.
When the doors opened, Howell strode toward the corner where his sedan was parked. Standing beside the driver's seat, he glanced around warily to check if anyone had followed him, then opened the door and got inside.
Once seated, he opened the glove compartment and pulled out a prepaid phone he had kept for emergencies. His personal cell phone had already been confiscated by prosecutors when they stormed into his office with a warrant.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Howell dial a number he had memorized and began to press the keypad.
After several long rings, a voice finally answered—a groggy, sleep-heavy tone, as though the man had just woken up. It was Brian Peterson, the chairman, calling from the United States.
"It's Howell, sir."
[What's going on at this hour?]
"The Korean prosecutors have arrived with a search and seizure warrant—they're going through every document and computer in the office right now!"
As Howell urgently delivered the news, Chairman Peterson sounded startled.
[What? Is that true?]
"Yes. They even confiscated my phone, so I'm calling you from the backup handset I prepared just in case."
Peterson's voice turned grim.
[There's nothing on the seized phone that could cause us trouble, is there?]
"No. Right after the exposé article came out, I deleted all messages and erased the saved contact numbers."
Peterson let out a faint sigh of relief.
[Good work.]
"But if they search the office documents and computers, the prosecutors will find plenty of evidence that could work against us."
[Hmm.]
"I should have cleared out the materials from the office in advance. That was my mistake."
[Regrettable, but unavoidable. I didn't expect the Korean prosecutors to storm in so suddenly either. At least you erased the contact details of those connected to us—that's a relief. Otherwise, this could have become far messier.]
Howell tightened his grip on the phone, his face still tense.
"Judging by how swiftly they moved, I'd say this action came from the Korean government—perhaps even directly from the Blue House."
[That sounds likely.]
"If they're deliberately targeting us like this, the sale of the Hansan Group affiliates we've been working on could face serious setbacks."
[We're just one step away from closing the deal. I'm not going to let that fall apart.]
Howell's eyes gleamed with expectation.
"Do you have a countermeasure in place, sir?"
[I have a meeting arranged with Secretary Vincent from the Department of Commerce tomorrow.]
Seeing Howell's expression brighten, Peterson continued in an unhurried tone.
[I'll ask him to rein in the Korean government's unjust harassment of foreign investors over trivial pretexts.]
A faint smile spread on Howell's previously rigid face.
"If Secretary Vincent intervenes, the Korean government—especially under IMF oversight—will have no choice but to back down."
Peterson gave a short, dismissive snort.
[If Secretary Vincent makes even one remark in front of the press, the won's exchange rate will swing, and Korea will find itself in trouble. They've overstepped without knowing their place. Soon enough, they'll see reality and retreat. Don't worry.]
With that confident assurance, Howell—nervous just moments ago—quickly regained his composure.
"Yes, sir. Understood."
After discussing their next steps for a while longer, Howell ended the call. He slipped the prepaid phone back into his inner jacket pocket, his face now visibly more at ease.
***
A grand chandelier hung from the living room ceiling.
Seok-won stood there in a comfortably fitting cashmere sweater, watching the news playing on the television mounted on the opposite wall.
"Along with the prosecutors' surprise raid on the Seoul office, the government has also terminated the contract entrusting the Rothschild Fund with the management of the Seoul Debt Adjustment Fund.
Unlike the initial enthusiasm when the Fund announced it would inject a billion dollars procured from the United States to restructure the Hansan Group, it has now been revealed that the promised foreign currency investment was never actually carried out.
In addition, during the reorganization of Hansan Group affiliates, it was discovered that the debts were repaid using funds sourced from the Seoul Debt Adjustment Fund—the very fund they were entrusted to operate—instead of through foreign capital attraction. This revelation is believed to have influenced the recent chain of decisions.
Meanwhile, John Howell, the Rothschild Fund's Korea branch director, told reporters, 'I fail to understand the basis for the termination notice,' dismissing the recent controversies as mere misunderstandings caused by an inadequate grasp of advanced financial methods.
He further stated that the Fund would use every possible means, including legal action, against those who had damaged the Rothschild Fund's business and reputation by spreading inaccurate information, vowing to restore its honor.
In related news, creditor banks are reportedly considering terminating the delegation agreement they signed with the Rothschild Fund for Hansan Group's restructuring, citing the recent string of problematic incidents."
Tilting back a can of cold beer in his hand, Seok-won listened to the anchor's words. The sight of Howell standing brazenly before reporters—having committed the wrongdoing himself and now talking about legal action—drew a cold, derisive smirk from him.
"So, Korea must look like a joke to them. Well, I suppose that's exactly why they dared to pull something like this."
He gave a short, contemptuous snort, then picked up the remote from the table and pressed the power button. The television screen went black.
Setting down both the remote and his half-finished beer, he pulled a phone from his pocket, scrolled through his contacts, and pressed the call button.
Rrring… Rrring…
With the phone to his ear, Seok-won strode toward the floor-to-ceiling window of the living room. The glittering night view of Seoul spread out before him.
After a few more rings, the call connected and the other party answered with a, "Hello." Seok-won spoke in fluent English.
"Vincent. It's me."
[Ah, Mr. Park! I was just about to call you—it's perfect timing.]
Secretary Vincent's voice was warm and almost overjoyed as he greeted him.
"Is that so?"
[Yes. Just as you said, Chairman Peterson of the Rothschild Fund came to see me asking for help.]
Seok-won raised his chin slightly, unsurprised, as though it was exactly what he had expected.
"And what did you decide to do?"
[Under other circumstances, I might have agreed, but after what you told me, Mr. Park, I made it clear that the U.S. government cannot interfere in every domestic issue of Korea.]
Though unseen, it seemed Vincent was shrugging as he spoke.
"Well done."
At the answer he had been hoping for, Seok‑won's smile deepened across his lips.
[Chairman Peterson wasn't exactly impressive either. To think he came running to me, asking for help to fix a problem entirely of his own making… Tsk. Like a child. Truly disappointing.]
At the sound of that tongue‑clicking, Seok‑won nodded in agreement.
"You're absolutely right. Trying to take the easy way out instead of making an effort to resolve it themselves is the wrong approach. Especially since this matter runs counter to the United States' own interests, doesn't it?"
[Exactly. Japan is already reeling from its bad‑debt cleanup, and Russia stirred up trouble by declaring a moratorium—just sorting out the fallout from those is headache enough. If Korea, which is only barely holding together with an IMF bailout, were to be shaken again, the global financial market could also take a heavy hit. They know this, and yet they came asking for something so absurd. Utterly pathetic.]
"Still, I'm glad you didn't get swayed by Chairman Peterson's plea and kept your stance."
[Of course I did.]
Secretary Vincent accepted the compliment with ease, then spoke in a subtly amused tone.
[By the way, that stock tip you gave me last time—its price shot up. I appreciate it.]
"I'm glad to hear it brought you good returns."
[In any event, you can rest assured that, regarding the Rothschild Fund, the U.S. government will not display any sign of displeasure toward South Korea, nor exert any pressure.]
"Thank you."
Seok‑won grinned broadly,
After that, the two continued to chat in good spirits, mixing in some personal conversation, before finally hanging up.
Lowering the phone from his ear, Seok‑won looked out the window. The night view of Seoul still glittered brightly.
Taking in the scenery, he let a sharp smile curve his lips.
"Your plan to exploit South Korea's inability to act freely under America's watch because of the lingering foreign exchange crisis wasn't bad—but you picked the wrong opponent."
Had Secretary Vincent publicly hinted at U.S. displeasure in an interview—without so much as making a phone call—Korea's government would likely have panicked and backed off from pressuring the Rothschild Fund.
But Peterson and the Fund had overlooked one crucial fact:
Their true opponent was Seok‑won— a magnate of Wall Street, wielding significant influence not only over the financial markets but also in the political circles of Washington.
"Heh… Too bad I won't get to see Chairman Peterson's face when his plans crumble and he's left scrambling."