Time passed. July 2nd.
Dawn broke over Bangkok.
The Bank of Thailand headquarters was ablaze with light.
The conference table was littered with crumpled paper and empty coffee cups.
Officials from the Ministry of Finance and the Governor of the Bank of Thailand sat opposite each other, their faces ashen, their hair disheveled.
The foreign exchange reserves had plummeted to a dangerously critical red line.
They couldn't hold out any longer.
A few hours later, a brief official statement flashed across Reuters and Bloomberg terminals, spreading instantly around the globe.
Tokyo, Sega Headquarters Building, Investment Department Trading Room.
The electronic clock on the wall ticked to 9:00 AM.
The entire trading room was deathly silent.
The only sound was the faint hum of the servers.
Hoshino stood at the console, his hand gripping a freshly printed cable.
The paper was crumpled from his tight grasp.
A trader suddenly bolted upright, knocking over a water glass on his desk.
Water spilled across the table, but no one noticed.
"Director Hoshino! The Bank of Thailand has announced it's abandoning the fixed exchange rate and switching to a floating one!"
The moment the words left his mouth, the Baht-to-USD exchange rate curve on the main screen plummeted, drawing a straight green line down.
A freefall.
There was no buffer, no resistance.
The Baht's line of defense collapsed completely.
Hoshino grabbed the internal phone from his desk and dialed the Managing Director's office.
"Managing Director, it's crashed."
Less than a minute later, Takuya Nakayama pushed open the trading room door.
He walked over to Hoshino and stared at the numbers frantically jumping on the screen.
While they were verifying the news, the Baht's exchange rate against the US Dollar had already plummeted over eight percent and was still falling.
"Wall Street is starting to square their positions," Hoshino said, pointing to the trading volume data in the bottom right corner of the screen. "The shorts are cashing in their profits. Financial institutions in Bangkok can't even get a glimpse of a US Dollar right now; they can only watch the exchange rate go into a freefall."
Takuya Nakayama pulled up a chair and sat down, crossing his legs.
"What's our current floating profit on the offshore short positions?"
Hoshino tapped the keyboard rapidly, pulling up the summary account.
"Three hundred percent," Hoshino said, swallowing hard, his voice trembling. "With leverage, our hundred-million-dollar principal has already turned into four hundred million. And the number is still rising."
Takuya Nakayama leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrest.
"If Director Takahashi and the others saw this number, their blood pressure would probably skyrocket."
Hoshino grabbed a towel from the side and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"Managing Director, when do we close our positions?"
Takuya Nakayama watched the curve on the screen, which continued its relentless descent.
"No rush. Soros and his crew have a massive appetite. Now that the Bank of Thailand has admitted defeat, they'll keep crushing the Baht until they've squeezed every last drop of profit. We'll close out in batches to avoid alerting the market. Get all the funds laundered and transferred back to our Hong Kong offshore accounts within three days."
"Understood." Hoshino turned to the traders and began issuing orders.
The rapid clatter of keyboards filled the room once more.
At noon, in a small conference room on the top floor of Sega's headquarters.
Director Takahashi pushed open the door, his steps slightly unsteady.
In his hand, he held a freshly bought evening newspaper. The front-page headline screamed: BAHT CRASHES, ASIAN FINANCIAL CRISIS STRIKES.
Director Hattori followed close behind, his face flushed and his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Seeing Takuya Nakayama sipping tea at the head of the table, the two men hurried over.
"Managing Director, Thailand—" Takahashi couldn't even catch his breath.
Takuya Nakayama set down his teacup and pointed to the chairs opposite him.
"Sit."
Takahashi and Hattori took their seats.
Takuya Nakayama picked up a document from the table and slid it in front of them.
"This is the first batch of liquidation statements just sent over by the Investment Department. The profits for your respective shares have been roughly calculated. After deducting commissions and management fees, the net return is over 200%."
"However, it will take some time to withdraw all the funds. Once the remaining details are settled, the money will be wired to your designated offshore accounts. You won't have to wait much longer."
Takahashi froze.
He stared down at the figures on the document, his hand trembling.
A ten million US Dollar principal had turned into over thirty million.
Hattori slapped his thigh and shot to his feet. "Is this—is this for real?"
Takuya Nakayama took a sip of tea. "Of course. Do you still doubt the efficiency of Sega's Investment Department?"
Takahashi slumped back into his chair, letting out a long sigh. "We made it—we actually made a fortune. My wife is still worrying about Sumitomo Bank's bad debts in Thailand, but we've struck it rich here!"
Takuya set down his teacup. "Gentlemen, it's best to keep this money in your offshore accounts for a while. I'm afraid Japan's domestic economic situation won't be very good in the near future. Thailand is just the beginning."
Takahashi and Hattori nodded repeatedly.
"We'll do whatever the Managing Director says! Whatever you say!"
The rainy season in Tokyo had just passed, but the night air still held a lingering, humid heat. Even the chirping of insects outside the window seemed to carry a lazy, languid tune.
Takuya Nakayama emerged from the bathroom, carelessly drying his half-damp hair with a towel. He was dressed in oversized cotton loungewear, his slippers dragging on the floor. He had intended to head straight to the study at the end of the hallway, read a bit, and then go to bed.
"Takuya."
Eri's gentle voice drifted from the living room, her tone light but deliberately hushed.
Takuya paused and turned.
Eri, wearing a plain, light-colored loungewear kimono, had her hair loosely pinned up with a wooden hairpin. She was placing a plate of neatly sliced Shizuoka melon on the coffee table. The television was already on, tuned to TV Tokyo, broadcasting a tedious late-night shopping program.
"Are the kids asleep?" Takuya changed course, walked over, and sat down on the spacious leather sofa, stretching his arms wide.
"Kazuki ran wild at kindergarten all day today; he started snoring the moment his head hit the pillow. Miki just fell asleep after her bottle, too." Eri sat down beside him, pushing the fruit platter closer and handing him a toothpick. A hint of anticipation flickered in her eyes. "Are you free tonight? Come watch some TV with me."
Takuya glanced up at the wall clock.
11:30 PM.
"The premiere of The Greed of Men?" He raised an eyebrow.
Eri nodded and grabbed the remote to turn up the volume. "My father called several times over the last couple of days, specifically reminding me to watch this drama tonight. He even said, quite mysteriously, that this was your idea and it would definitely revitalize the station's viewership ratings."
"I just mentioned it in passing, offering a rough idea," Takuya said, spearing a piece of honeydew melon and popping it into his mouth. The sweet, cool juice instantly spread through his mouth, dispelling some of the muggy heat clinging to him. "Anyway, I don't have any urgent business tonight, so it's fine to watch. It's a good chance to see if the translation and dubbing team Shochiku brought in is any good. I'd hate to see a masterpiece like this ruined by a bad dub."
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