great-warnovel Chapter 235 Near-Death Struggle
Chapter 235 Near-Death Struggle
Marunouchi, Tokyo.
Saionji Industrial Headquarters, Underground Core Strategy Room.
A huge LCD screen occupies an entire wall.
In the center of the screen, the green candlestick chart of the Nikkei 225 index is showing a dizzying, precipitous drop.
The news of the Ministry of Finance's issuance of the "Total Quantity Regulation" was like a huge block of ice thrown into boiling water, instantly triggering panic throughout the stock market.
Just five minutes ago, the psychological defense line of the Japanese stock market, the "30,000-point" mark, was torn apart like a thin sheet of paper in an instant by panic selling and forced liquidation.
[29,850 points].
The numbers plummeted. Each refresh represented hundreds of billions of yen in paper wealth vanishing into thin air on this early spring afternoon.
Saionji Satsuki sat quietly in the main seat of the leather swivel chair.
Today she wore a pale white silk collared blouse, paired with a flowing dark gray tweed midi skirt. A pure black velvet shawl was casually draped over the back of a leather chair. Her fair wrists were crossed on her knees. Her posture was relaxed.
The encrypted transoceanic telephone on the edge of the control panel lit up with a sharp red light.
Satsuki extended her right hand and pressed the hands-free button with her index finger.
"Boss."
Frank's voice came through the speaker. The signal from the transoceanic submarine fiber optic cable carried an extremely faint background noise.
In stark contrast to his usual calm and capable demeanor, Frank's breathing was extremely heavy at this moment, even carrying a rapid panting caused by excessive excitement.
"Your Tibet province really has guts," Frank swallowed hard on the other end, his voice trembling violently. "The market makers on Wall Street have completely gone mad. The physical stampede in the spot market has directly breached the bottom line of the pricing model in the options market."
The sound of keyboard typing echoed rapidly on the other end of the phone.
"With the market index falling below 30,000 points, the market fear index (VIX) has exceeded 30."
"The implied volatility (IV) of the deep out-of-the-money put options (OTM Puts) we placed in the Cayman Islands trust account has skyrocketed in the last ten minutes."
Frank's voice rose, his barely suppressed fervor piercing the radio waves and echoing throughout the strategy room.
"The unrealized profit... has exceeded $35 billion."
Three hundred and fifty billion US dollars.
Converted to Japanese yen, this is a terrifying figure that could buy the entire annual GDP of several medium-sized sovereign nations.
A deathly silence fell over the strategic room.
Executive Director Endo, standing to one side of the control panel, was momentarily stunned, his hands gripping the edges of the financial documents tightly.
How much...how much? Is that reasonable?
Satsuki leaned back in the deep red leather chair.
She listened to Frank's trembling breaths, heavy with excitement, on the other end of the phone. A faint, undisguised smile of pleasure slowly spread across his refined face.
She narrowed her eyes slightly. Every green candlestick on the screen, plummeting like a cliff, transformed into a dancing, melodious note. Listening to the mournful cry of a nation's wealth shattering in an avalanche filled her chest with a chilling pleasure.
This feeling of weightlessness, with your heart pounding violently in your chest, is more intoxicating than any fine red wine.
"Frank".
Satsuki spoke softly, her tone carrying a hint of languid pleasure.
"Do you like this feeling?"
There was a two-second pause on the other end of the phone. The only sound coming from the speakerphone was Frank gasping for air.
"...Yes, Boss." Frank's voice trembled as he gave an affirmative answer without hesitation, "It's even more addictive than fucking drugs."
Satsuki's smile deepened.
She stretched out her finger and tapped it lightly twice on the smooth mahogany table surface.
"Da, da."
"If you like it, then let's go make more money."
She sat up straight, suppressing her languidness, and her tone became clear and penetrating again.
"Frank, the entire Wall Street team deserves immense credit for this campaign. I promise you, once the deal is done, the prize pool will be large enough for every member of your team to buy a top-of-the-line mansion on Manhattan's Upper East Side outright."
Frank's suppressed growl came from the other end of the phone.
"As for you, Frank."
Satsuki gently traced a circle on the smooth mahogany table with her fingertips, her tone becoming extremely soft.
"Once the funds are safely in your pocket, an additional $100 million in special bonus will be added to your private offshore trust."
The suppressed growl from the other end of the phone vanished instantly.
A deathly silence fell over the speakers for two seconds. Then, a series of heavy, hoarse breaths, distorted by extreme blood pressure, could be heard. The faint, chattering sound of Frank's teeth chattering could even be heard.
One hundred million US dollars is an astronomical figure on Wall Street today, enough to drive any top trader completely insane.
"Boss...I...my life is yours..."
Frank's voice trembled violently, and he spoke incoherently.
"You deserve it."
After saying that, Satsuki changed the subject.
"But now is not the time to celebrate."
Satsuki's gaze was fixed on the bottomless downward curve on the screen.
"The panic selling on Wall Street has resulted in a physical stampede. Immediately activate the liquidation module of the 'Ghost' algorithm."
"Cut the massive liquidation orders into smaller pieces. Hide them in the gaps between the sell orders of those large institutions frantically fleeing. Begin the first round of liquidation and cashing out in a restrained and covert manner."
"We need to immediately convert a portion of the unrealized profits into actual U.S. short-term Treasury bills (T-Bills). We need to secure sufficient U.S. dollar cash to accumulate ammunition for future bargain hunting back home."
She leaned back in her chair and gave the final instruction.
"As for the remaining major short positions, let them continue to lie low. Let them sink to the deeper sea along with the ruins of this city."
"Received! Execute immediately!"
Frank's voice returned to its cold, hard tone.
The call was disconnected.
Satsuki picked up the bone china teacup on the table and took a sip of warm black tea.
She turned her head and looked at the news live stream on the other side of the screen.
The press conference for the Tibet Ministry's "Total Quantity Regulation" is underway.
"Well then," Satsuki murmured softly, "it's time for our ally in Nagata-cho to begin his performance of struggle."
……
Tokyo, Chiyoda-ku, Nagata-cho.
Room 508, First Members' House of Representatives.
The air in the spacious office of the secretary-general was filled with the strong aroma of Cuban cigars.
Ichiro Osawa sank into the deep red leather sofa. He crossed his legs and held a large, half-smoked cigar between his fingers in his right hand.
On the marble coffee table in front of them, several preliminary lists of cabinet reshuffles for next month were spread out.
"Knock, knock."
Two rapid, arrhythmic knocks interrupted his thoughts.
Chief Secretary Hirano pushed open the heavy, soundproof oak door and scrambled into the office.
Hirano's face was deathly pale, like a corpse just pulled from a morgue. Cold sweat dripped down his chin, and his breathing became broken and fragmented.
"Osawa-sensei!" Hirano's voice was shrill, he didn't even bother to slam the door shut, "Something terrible has happened!"
Osawa Ichiro frowned, and the fingers holding the cigar paused slightly.
"What's the rush? Close the door." Osawa scolded habitually.
Hirano turned and slammed the oak door shut, then stumbled and collapsed in front of the marble coffee table, gripping it tightly with both hands.
"The Ministry of Finance... the Banking Bureau of the Ministry of Finance has just issued an official document on 'Total Loan Regulation'! Banks nationwide have been forcibly ordered to stop extending loan terms for real estate!"
Hirano swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty.
"The faction's special hotline has been overwhelmed. Those core financiers of the Kanto Real Estate Alliance... were completely wiped out this afternoon! Their company's main accounts had their internet connections forcibly cut off by major banks accompanied by legal personnel. All their assets have been seized by the court!"
Osawa Ichiro's movements suddenly stopped.
The dark red ember at the tip of the cigar paused in the air for two seconds.
The grayish-white cigarette ash finally succumbed to gravity and fell onto the expensive suit trousers, burning a small stain.
But he didn't even raise his hand to slap him. He remained firmly slumped in the deep red leather sofa, coldly watching Hirano, who was trembling and gripping the coffee table tightly with both hands. His gaze was as if he were looking at a mouse scurrying frantically at his feet.
Ichiro Osawa put the cigar, which he had paused for two seconds, back into his mouth. His cheeks hollowed slightly as he took a deep drag.
Has the Ministry of Finance issued an administrative order to cut off the financial chains of real estate tycoons?
Those administrative staff in the Ministry of Finance dare to jeopardize the job of the ruling party's core secretary-general without the Prime Minister's personal approval?
"absurd."
Osawa Ichiro loosened the silk tie that was tightly around his neck.
Several documents were spread out on the table. He completely ignored the urgent briefings about the bank's seizure and instead grabbed the top document, the "Preliminary List of Cabinet Reorganizations," which represented the highest authority.
He stood up from the sofa, his massive body exuding an overwhelming sense of oppression, and strode to the desk on the other side of the room.
"These low-level bureaucrats in Xiaguan are getting bolder and bolder."
Osawa Ichiro gripped the list, giving it two sharp shakes in mid-air, the papers rustling crisply. His lips curled downwards, his eyes gleaming with a fierce arrogance.
"Trying to use your approval authority to pressure me? Trying to test my limits by threatening the lives of my major clients?"
He abruptly grabbed the red telephone receiver from his desk. His thick fingers pressed down several numbers on the dial pad, connecting directly to the Minister of Finance's private office.
But things didn't go as he expected.
The receiver emitted a cold, continuous busy tone.
"Bang!"
Ichiro Osawa slammed the receiver onto the base. The force caused the red plastic casing to shatter instantly, sending fragments flying onto the wool carpet.
His eyes were bloodshot with extreme anger.
"Hirano! Draft the Cabinet inquiry letter immediately!"
"Tomorrow morning at eight o'clock, I want the Director of the Banking Bureau of the Ministry of Finance and that Minister of Finance standing in front of my desk on time!"
He slapped the cabinet list in his hand heavily onto Hirano's chest with a "smack".
"Go! Go tell those administrative officers in the Ministry of Finance who only know how to read reports!"
"As long as I, Osawa Ichiro, am sitting here, the so-called macroeconomic laws must give way to the power distribution in Nagata-cho! A mere administrative directive can't destroy my foundation!"
Hirano, clutching the crumpled list, bowed repeatedly, his face pale, and stumbled out of the office.
The heavy oak soundproof door closed.
Ichiro Osawa slumped back into the chair in front of his desk.
"These ungrateful wretches, they're all going against me, aren't they..."
The cracked red landline phone tilted slightly. The receiver, not fully engaged, hung in mid-air, emitting a monotonous, mechanical "beep-beep" busy tone accompanied by extremely faint background noise.