Yoo Seong-pil’s Hawaii Villa.

I looked at my grandfather—whom I’d met in this resort setting—with a hint of awkwardness.

It felt strange seeing him here, when I was so used to his weighty, authoritarian presence.

"Well now... This old man may have asked to borrow 10 billion dollars, but I didn’t mean it seriously, you know."

Liar.

I know for a fact he meant it back then.

"Grandfather, take off your sunglasses. You’re smiling, aren’t you?"

"Haha, the doctor told me not to overdo it."

He had apparently come to the U.S. for cutting-edge treatment. I’d come out halfway from working at Alpha Fund to meet him. Compared to the last time I saw him, he looked noticeably better—his health seemed to be improving.

"But still, 10 billion dollars should be enough, right?"

"Of course! More than enough. Frankly, it almost feels wrong to be given so much. Most of it’s in short-term debt, but even so—what does it matter? With this much, I could easily acquire several 20th-ranked conglomerates and still have change left."

My grandfather laughed greedily and nodded.

"...I didn’t give it to Daehwa Group, though."

I gave it to the Korean government first. They accepted it without even properly reading the contract, just because I said I was handing over money. Even if it came through Chairman Yoo Seong-pil, they took it far too hastily.

‘Strictly speaking, I didn’t even give it to them.’

The contract was to stand on the opposite side of the forces draining Korea’s foreign reserves and provide support. In exchange, Daehwa ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) Group would receive various conveniences.

The contract amounted to the state accepting monopolistic protections in exchange for money... but honestly, it was justified. The media might stay quiet, but anyone involved in economic policy knows—they’re sitting on a ticking time bomb right now.

If Thailand hadn’t collapsed, maybe things would be different. But at this point, they’re already deeply screwed. And we’re not talking 10 billion won—this is 10 billion dollars. They should be bowing in gratitude.

I’ve committed more dollars than the Bank of Korea currently has in total foreign reserves.

"You know, our precious lucky granddaughter didn’t even give that much support to Daehwa Group. But even that was more than enough."

Grandfather let out a cool, satisfied laugh as he said it.

"...Well, it’s the group I’ll be inheriting anyway. Rather than building something from scratch in Korea, it’s more efficient for me to use an entity that already holds influence."

Even with the same amount of money, there’s a huge difference between routing it through Daehwa Group and not.

You know that old cliché.

A protagonist leaves their homeland, achieves great success abroad, but can’t forget their roots. Then, when their home country falls into crisis, they return with wealth in hand to save the very place they were born.

From Joseph in Genesis to Kim Man-deok—it’s a story that spans East and West, ancient and modern.

I like it too. Even someone like me, whose nationalism is barely detectable, finds it somewhat appealing. So imagine how it feels for Koreans raised on loyalty to nation and people their whole lives.

It’s an offer the government can’t refuse. And truthfully, they don’t want to refuse. They’ll probably shed tears thinking back on how they once hunted me down like a criminal for sending foreign currency abroad—only to now see me returning, having grown the money like mad.

"But are you feeling alright, Grandfather? Let your subordinates handle things—take a break. What if you collapse again...?"

I was starting to feel a bit guilty. Maybe I was making an old man work too hard just because of my own ambitions.

– Tap.

Grandfather struck the table and shook his head.

"Haha! You just don’t understand yet, my dear granddaughter. You should’ve seen those officials’ faces... Those haughty politicians who used to command even the biggest chaebol chairmen around, calling them gamblers and scum—they’re now lining up to borrow money from me. I couldn’t resist savoring it."

Looks like he’s still got some bitterness stored up.

Well, I can’t blame him. Just a decade ago, even top-five chaebols could be vaporized overnight if they fell out of favor with the government.

"Hehe, then I’ll be asking a little more of you."

Aside from my money, Chairman Yoo Seong-pil also has a lot of dollars. Thanks to his early investment in Alpha Fund, his wealth multiplied many times over.

And since his funds move separately from the fund’s operating capital, that’s all good news for me. I’m not just someone supporting Daehwa Group anymore—soon, I’ll be part of it.

"By the way..., has Alpha Fund said anything? From what I hear, only Ha Yeong-il knows you’re the real owner. Isn’t it risky to send Daehwa Group people over?"

"Oh, that’s fine. I’ve recruited a lot of Korean-Americans working on Wall Street. I benefited from the relationships I built helping the Korean community back then."

It’s been quite a while since I started cultivating talent. Some of them have already risen to VP or even Director positions. When I visited Alpha Fund’s office, the people assisting me were those very individuals.

I’d funneled money through so-called scholarship foundations, and the seeds did sprout.

It even helped polish Alpha Fund’s reputation, so it worked out well. The loyalty of those employees is just a bonus.

"And now I’ve made it up to the Associate level at Alpha Fund. I’ve been granted some decision-making power... If I bring in results, no one will say anything."

Before Korea collapses, I’ll drain the hedge funds attacking it from the opposing side. And I’ll cover the 10 billion dollars I used with profits from shorting Hong Kong.

Hong Kong hasn’t been handed over yet..., but at this rate, it’s more than within reach. Neither China nor the UK will find it easy to intervene.

Grandfather stroked his graying beard and nodded slowly.

"Hmm, I see. May I ask one more thing?"

"Of course. Ask anything."

"The dotcom bubble... How much longer do you think it’ll last?"

Hmm.

I thought for a moment before answering.

"It’ll last a while longer. The U.S. Federal Reserve is trying to rein it in, but when the real economy collapses, capital tends to flood into perceived safe financial markets."

Above all, to the average American, the Asian financial crisis feels like something happening on another planet. Unless they’re Asian-American or a Korean expatriate living in the States, they don’t even blink.

***

There were plenty of Koreans trying to get to the U.S.—not just Yoo Ha-yeon as a child. Many had gone in search of opportunity, and naturally, a wide array of personalities had settled there.

Among them was a man named Heo Seok-tae, who had come to the U.S. for his studies. He was an ordinary person.

At least, by his own standards, he was among the more fortunate and talented of the “ordinary” crowd.

Born in a rural village in Gyeonggi Province, he had grown up in a tiny rented room. Through years of juggling day labor and night study, he had eventually gotten into a respectable Seoul university and completed graduate school there.

His decision to pursue a master’s degree in the U.S. had been half-impulsive.

Still, he had worked desperately hard. Balancing menial jobs, English study, and graduate life—he somehow managed to finish his degree.

"...What now?"

Sure, Heo Seok-tae was capable. But not so exceptional as to transcend time or circumstance. If it hadn’t been for the scholarship foundation run by that mysterious Alpha Fund manager, he wouldn’t have been able to finish his master’s at all.

But a PhD was out of the question—his family’s situation wouldn’t allow it. And honestly, he wasn’t that passionate about academia. He was sick of the endless thesis writing.

– ‘Your father’s trying to start a business these days. He’s struggling a lot... Could you come back to Korea and help him?’

He could still picture his father sighing heavily, and his mother looking on with concern.

Even in the U.S., Heo Seok-tae knew. Korea wasn’t in a normal state right now. The country was probably heading for real trouble. And even if he went home to help his father, it wouldn’t change much.

So..., what he needed was money. A lot of money.

He wandered the streets for a while—and then, a gust of wind blew a newspaper to his feet.

[MS stock rises 10% in one month... Dotcom companies surge despite interest rate hike]

– Tap.

He stopped in his tracks.

He already knew about the “dotcom bubble.” He’d made a 30% return in the early days and pulled out. Lately, he hadn’t had time to invest because of his thesis.

‘Maybe I should get back into stocks.’

The thought came to him suddenly.

***

– Clap clap.

Wall Street, Alpha Fund office.

"Alright! Another good morning, everyone! Let’s all work hard today. This time, let’s play the heroes of justice. Sounds fun, right?"

I clapped my hands and smiled brightly.

Several hedge funds had been spotted moving to raid Korea.

– Rustle.

I flipped through the list of funds gathering at this battlefield, grinning as I scanned the names.

"Hmm, quite a few. Did Korea look tasty to them? Ah, Tiger Fund’s joined the party too? Mm-hmm, I get it."

Tiger Management was quite famous in this industry. They’d liquidated early due to shorting too soon during the dotcom bubble, but I liked their eccentric founder’s taste.

"What position should we take to defend? Should we go with direct forex trading?"

"Hmm... Once the spot market shakes, derivatives will follow too, so we’ll have to back that as well."

I had a lot to think about. Among all these hedge funds, only a handful were backing Korea.

Of course, not none. Money has no borders, no morality, and it’s not uncommon for yesterday’s enemy to become today’s friend. Even Soros’s notorious Quantum Fund, after wrecking Thailand, had later helped Indonesia’s central bank defend its currency.

Sure, Quantum Fund eventually failed and took massive losses..., but I’m in a much more favorable position.

"Let’s go with forex options. Now, let’s see... Yep, here it is."

– Snap.

I scrolled through portfolios and options exchanges, smiling as I found a delightful contract.

I knew it. These lovely money demons wouldn’t miss an opportunity like this.

"1,000 won, 1,200 won, 2,000 won per dollar... Who the hell bet on 2,000?"

It wasn’t a direct short or long—it was a zero-sum contract where you get paid when exchange rates hit a certain threshold.

Knowing the future makes derivatives absurdly easy.

"Use 5 billion dollars to support the short sellers, and put the rest into option margins. We’ll take a put option sell position. If they won’t take it, break it up and spread it across other derivatives."

Selling put options is basically like selling insurance.

In simple terms... I was betting that the exchange rate wouldn’t change.

If I defend the won, I win. If not, I lose.

Let’s see who wins.