Mid-August, Tokyo.
The stifling summer heat still blanketed the streets of Tokyo.
Takuya Nakayama had cut short his summer retreat in Karuizawa, leaving Eri and their two children in the mountains while he drove back to headquarters alone.
Pushing open the doors to the Investment Department's exclusive trading room, he was greeted by a blast of cool air.
The atmosphere inside was a stark contrast to the frenzy of the Baht's collapse a month ago. The rhythmic clacking of keyboards now carried an air of calm assurance, as if the outcome were already decided.
Hoshino stood at the console, his eyes fixed on the fluctuating Southeast Asian exchange rates on the screen.
Hearing the door open, he turned and handed over a freshly printed settlement sheet.
"Managing Director, you've returned at the perfect time." Hoshino pointed to the figures on the sheet. "We've completely liquidated our positions in the Philippines, Malaysia, and Indonesia."
Takuya Nakayama took the sheet and scanned it.
The profits were substantial.
"We got out fast," Takuya said, walking to the coffee table by the window and taking a seat in a leather chair.
Hoshino followed and took the seat opposite him. "We had to move. The profit margins in those three countries have been squeezed dry by the Wall Street crowd. All that's left are insignificant crumbs. Policy risks are skyrocketing—staying in would mean grinding for peanuts, and one wrong move could wipe out all our previous gains. Cashing out now is the safest bet."
Takuya Nakayama nodded.
An assistant brought in two cups of freshly brewed black coffee, placed them on the coffee table, and quietly withdrew.
Takuya picked up his cup and took a sip. The bitter, rich liquid slid down his throat, dispelling the fatigue from the long drive.
"Any new moves from Soros?" Takuya asked casually, setting the cup down.
Hoshino shook his head.
"The Quantum Fund has been uncharacteristically quiet lately. Peripheral speculative capital is still circling Southeast Asia, but the main funds have begun a phased withdrawal. We haven't seen any traces of them building large positions in other markets yet, so we can't determine their next target."
Takuya leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers twice on the armrest.
"The Southeast Asian crisis is far from over, but the profit pool is already tapped dry. Where else do you think they'll look next?"
Hoshino rested his hands on his knees, mentally scanning the financial landscape of the Asia-Pacific region.
"In East Asia, the only places left with enough scale and room to maneuver—where policies haven't been completely locked down—are Hong Kong Island and South Korea," Hoshino concluded.
"What about Japan?" Takuya Nakayama raised an eyebrow. "Wall Street has an insatiable appetite. You think they'd ignore a market as big as Japan?"
Hoshino lifted his coffee cup, blew on the steam, and let a cold smile touch his lips.
"They can covet it all they want, but it won't do them any good. Japan's situation is different," Hoshino analyzed. "On the surface, the Japanese banking industry has issued a staggering amount of loans in Southeast Asia, and now those have all turned into bad debts. But at the end of the day, Japan is just the creditor. The losses on the books are ugly, but the damage won't be fatal to the domestic real economy."
Hoshino paused, his tone tinged with a hint of professional disdain.
"And do you think our big banks are just sitting idly by? These past few months, they've sensed the wind shifting and are running faster than anyone. They're frantically recalling loans from Southeast Asia, forcing local companies to pay them back in US dollars. When those companies can't pay, they have no choice but to dump their own currencies on the foreign exchange market to buy dollars."
Hoshino slammed his cup down on the coaster.
"The Japanese banking industry's self-preservation tactics have directly transferred the risk of massive non-performing loans to Southeast Asia. To put it bluntly, our Japanese banks are absolutely one of the masterminds behind Southeast Asia's rapid collapse."
After hearing this, Takuya Nakayama tapped his fingers on the table.
"They're just sacrificing others to save themselves. The bureaucrats at the Ministry of Finance and the bankers always look so dignified, but when it comes to striking a dirty blow, they don't hesitate for a second. It's just a shame for our domestic companies that built factories and did real business in Southeast Asia. With the exchange rate collapsing, material costs are a mess, and they're also being squeezed by their own banks. They're caught between a rock and a hard place."
"Capital has never cared about sentiment," Hoshino added.
"What about South Korea and Hong Kong Island?" Takuya Nakayama brought the conversation back on track.
Hoshino stood up and walked to the whiteboard. Picking up a marker, he wrote "South Korea" on it.
"South Korea's current economic structure is extremely precarious," Hoshino said, drawing a heavy underline beneath the name. "Their chaebol model has reached its limit. I've analyzed the data—the debt-to-equity ratios of the top thirty chaebols are generally over 400%, with some even exceeding 1,000%! This is a false prosperity sustained entirely by borrowing."
Hoshino turned to face Takuya Nakayama.
"Several of these thirty chaebols have already collapsed this year. Hanbo Steel in January, and Kia Motors, which just filed for bankruptcy protection last month. All of this is due to their excessive reliance on foreign debt. By 1995, their external dependence had already soared to 57%. The Bank of Korea's current foreign exchange reserves are barely enough to cover the short-term foreign debts of those companies, let alone intervene in the market."
Hoshino tossed the marker back into its holder.
"Soros has definitely set his sights on South Korea. It's just a matter of when he strikes."
Takuya Nakayama stared at the words on the whiteboard, offering no comment.
"What about Hong Kong?"
At the mention of those words, Hoshino's expression turned grave. He walked back to the coffee table and sat down, leaning forward slightly.
"I strongly advise against touching Hong Kong," Hoshino said, his tone absolute.
"Hong Kong's fundamentals are flawless. Their foreign exchange reserves are ample, and their financial system is extremely robust. If Soros were to lead a charge there, he could at most exploit some regulatory loopholes to stir up the market and profit from exchange rate and stock market fluctuations. Completely crushing Hong Kong is simply impossible."
Hoshino lifted his coffee cup and drank half of it in one go, clearing his throat.
"The most critical point is that Beijing is backing Hong Kong. It just returned to China last month, making this an absolute political red line. Mainland China's export trade has surged in recent years, and its foreign exchange reserves have been growing annually—their war chest is immense. If the Hong Kong authorities cannot withstand Wall Street's onslaught, Beijing will undoubtedly step in to prop them up without hesitation. They might even be willing to throw the entire nation's foreign exchange reserves into the fray. No matter how wealthy Soros is, he cannot withstand the crushing weight of a state machine."
Hoshino looked at Takuya Nakayama.
"We have no idea when Beijing will enter the market or how much capital they'll commit. These are their hole cards, and we're completely blind to them. Betting against a house when you don't know their hand is suicide. That's why Sega's Investment Department won't put a single cent into this Hong Kong play."
The only sound in the trading room was the faint whoosh of the air conditioner's vent.
Takuya Nakayama listened in silence to Hoshino's lengthy explanation, offering no immediate response. He picked up his lukewarm coffee, drained it in one gulp, and set the cup back on the table.
A slow smile spread across his face as he looked at Hoshino. "Hoshino-san, your insight has become incredibly sharp."
This wasn't mere flattery; it was genuine admiration.
A few months ago, Hoshino had relied on caution and an instinctive avoidance of risk when facing Wall Street's onslaught. Now, however, he could see beyond isolated financial data, analyzing the market through the lens of macro-policy, national red lines, and even geopolitics.
His vision and strategic thinking had fully evolved into those of a top-tier trader.
Hoshino was momentarily taken aback by the praise, then offered a sheepish smile.
"It's all thanks to your guidance, Managing Director," Hoshino replied. "After all, I've been managing funds of this scale under your tutelage every day. If I still couldn't see the path forward, I should probably resign from my post as Director of the Investment Department in disgrace."
"Alright, enough with the flattery." Takuya Nakayama stood up and smoothed the creases in his suit. "Since you've read the situation clearly, just keep going at your own pace. Once the funds are recovered, park them in a secure offshore account. We have plenty of patience to wait for them to expose their weaknesses."
Takuya walked to the door, his hand resting on the handle. He paused and looked back to add, "Keep a close eye on South Korea. If those chaebols truly can't hold on, we'll snatch up some high-quality assets at a discount. That way, our efforts won't have been in vain. Just remember not to clash with Wall Street when we make our move."
Hoshino immediately stood up and nodded vigorously. "Understood! I'll have the team monitoring Seoul twenty-four hours a day."
The door swung open, and Takuya strode out.
Back in his office, Takuya was reviewing documents on his desk when his internal line rang. His assistant reported that Fu Zhan from Mercury Technology had submitted a request for a visit.
Takuya granted it immediately.
Two days later.
Sega Headquarters Building, Executive Managing Director's Office.
Fu Zhan sat on the sofa, cradling the tea his assistant had just poured. Steam rose steadily from the cup.
He set it down, resting his hands on his knees and leaning forward slightly, his posture stiff and formal.
Takuya Nakayama sat opposite him, holding a glass of iced water. The ice cubes clinked against the glass with a crisp sound.
"The Legend of Nezha has sold over 100,000 copies on the Jupiter," Fu Zhan announced, his voice strained with suppressed excitement.
Takuya raised his glass in a silent toast to the air. "Excellent work. A hundred thousand copies is a milestone in the current Chinese-language gaming market."
Fu Zhan smiled, rubbing his hands together. "That's why we want to strike while the iron is hot. The Jupiter's user base in China is still limited. The real market is on PC. We want to port The Legend of Nezha to the PC platform."
Takuya took a sip of water. "A good move. What did Koguchi say?"
Fu Zhan paused, choosing his words carefully. "Director Koguchi didn't object. He said Sega doesn't interfere with Mercury Technology's day-to-day decisions, stepping in only when there's a major risk."
Fu Zhan looked up. "But I'm still uneasy. You know the PC market, especially in China. Once a game hits PC, piracy runs rampant."
"In those computer malls, you can find any game you want on a five-yuan optical disc. This means we're basically giving away the games we worked so hard to create for free. I'm afraid this will harm Sega's interests, which is why I flew here specifically to hear your thoughts in person."
Takuya Nakayama set his water glass down on the coffee table.
"All this for that?"
Fu Zhan nodded emphatically.
Takuya Nakayama leaned back against the sofa, shifting into a more comfortable position.
"Koguchi's opinion is my opinion. Sega will not interfere."
Fu Zhan froze.
Takuya Nakayama pointed to the cigarette pack on the table, gesturing for Fu Zhan to help himself, before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.
"You think piracy is some unstoppable force of nature, don't you?"
Fu Zhan picked up the lighter.
"Isn't it? Within a week of the discs being pressed, pirated copies flood every computer mall. How are we supposed to sell the official version? It's not just about us not making money—the real issue is that Sega won't be able to collect its brand licensing fees."
Takuya Nakayama exhaled a cloud of smoke.
"You don't need to worry about Sega's position. Think about it. What did Nine-Tattooed Dragon used to do, and what does he do now? Have you ever wondered what Sega's attitude was toward him becoming the biggest distributor in South China?"
Fu Zhan's fingers tightened around the cigarette.
Nine-Tattooed Dragon had started out dealing in gray-market imports and running pirated game parlors. Later, he was absorbed by Mercury Technology and Sega, becoming part of their official distribution network.
Sega hadn't just refrained from blacklisting him; they'd given him rebates and put him in charge of distributing their games.
"Young people in China really don't have much money right now," Takuya Nakayama said, tapping the ash from his cigarette. "They can't afford genuine cartridges costing hundreds of yuan, or expensive consoles. But that doesn't mean they don't love good games."
Fu Zhan listened without replying.
"They're playing pirated games now because they have no choice. But when they grow up, start working, and have salaries in their hands, they'll be willing to pay for the joy they experienced back then—as long as the games are good enough." Takuya Nakayama looked at the half-finished cigarette in his hand. "Besides, China's economy is on the rise. The purchasing power of ordinary people is visibly improving. It used to take a whole year's salary to save up for a console; now it takes less than six months. Right?"
Fu Zhan nodded repeatedly.
"And another thing," Takuya Nakayama said, stubbing out his cigarette. "You've made such a huge splash abroad, and The Legend of Yang Jian and The Legend of Nezha have earned so much foreign exchange. Don't you want to return home in glory? Not just to present the Municipal Government with a stellar financial report, but also to win some respect for Mercury Technology and for Chinese game developers among China's own players."
Fu Zhan fell silent.
The only sound in the office was the faint hum of the air conditioner.
After a moment, Fu Zhan rubbed his face and let out a laugh.
"Executive Director Nakayama, you really are a China expert. Nothing gets past you."
The weight in his chest finally lifted, and Fu Zhan's entire body relaxed.
His biggest fear today was that Sega would hold the PC port license hostage over the piracy issue. Now that Takuya Nakayama had laid his cards on the table, he wasn't just refusing to block them—he was encouraging them to seize the market and cultivate a user base.
Such vision and magnanimity left Fu Zhan completely won over.
With the main business concluded, Fu Zhan didn't rush to leave. He leaned forward, lowering his voice.
"Director, I'm trying to find something out."
Takuya Nakayama picked up his glass of iced water again.
"Go on."
"A few days ago, some of our technicians from Mercury came to Sega headquarters to discuss interface issues," Fu Zhan said, watching Nakayama's reaction closely. "While they were over at the low-level toolset team, they accidentally overheard some rumors. Is Sega working on a new handheld?"
Takuya Nakayama swallowed a sip of iced water.
"That's correct. It's nearly finalized."
Please Support me by becoming my Patreon member and get 30+ chapters.
[email protected]/Ajal69
change @ with a
Thank You to Those who joined my Patreon