[The departure ban on Porter, the branch manager, and all other employees of the Japanese branch has been fully lifted as of today.]
Standing by the window in a crisp white shirt and a brand-new Gucci tie — a recent gift from the brand's head designer, Tom Ford — Seok-won held his phone to his ear, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Looks like the medicine worked perfectly."
[Secretary Vincent said he pressured Japan by mentioning the Omnibus Act, warning that the U.S. could impose trade retaliation.]
"The Omnibus Act... that's the one with Super 301, isn't it?"
[That's right. It was a temporary law under the previous administration, but the Clinton administration revived it last year.]
Super 301 was a provision that granted the president discretionary powers to impose discriminatory and severe retaliatory measures against countries engaged in unfair trade practices.
Reviving a law that had already expired was a deliberate move — clearly aimed at Japan amid the ongoing trade disputes.
'The Japanese government had been standing firm until the U.S. pulled out Super 301... then they immediately backed down, tails between their legs.'
The mere threat of Super 301 was enough to send shockwaves through any country's economy. If applied, it would block access to the world's largest consumer market — the U.S. — and set off a chain reaction among allied nations.
It wasn't just a legal measure — it was a nuclear bomb in trade diplomacy.
'Its very existence serves as an overwhelming threat — a weapon capable of economically annihilating the other side.'
Seok-won shook off his thoughts as Landon's voice crackled through the phone.
[With Super 301 on the table, I wouldn't be surprised if their hearts dropped to the floor.]
Seok-won gave a small nod.
"They never imagined this would escalate to such a level."
[Haha, exactly. They were playing with fire — only to realize they'd been striking matches right next to a powder keg.]
"Especially considering Japan had only just avoided Super 301 sanctions in the recent trade negotiations... they wouldn't have taken it as a bluff."
[The biggest dispute over automobiles was settled through negotiations, but paper and wood products are still on the priority negotiation list — that's what's making them even more nervous.]
While Japan's core exports were automobiles and electronics — far more crucial industries — simply having paper and wood products flagged as priority negotiation items placed enormous political pressure on the government.
[Next week, Porter will undergo the scheduled summons investigation. But I've heard from the Ministry of Finance that it'll just be a perfunctory inquiry — a formality to ask why the derivative products were created in the first place.]
"That means we don't have to worry about Japan anymore."
[Yes, everything should be fine now.]
There was a brief pause before Landon spoke again, as if something had just crossed his mind.
[Ah, and one more thing — I told you before that companies like Nippon Steel suddenly postponed their option liquidations after the investigation began, remember?]
Seok-won tilted his head slightly, recalling the detail.
"Yes, what about it?"
[They must have quickly caught on that the situation had shifted — they've requested to liquidate their options again.]
"They were probably hoping the Ministry of Finance would rule there was something wrong with the contracts to minimize their losses. But once they realized that wouldn't happen, they flipped their stance right away."
Seok-won snorted lightly, his voice tinged with mockery.
Landon's smirk was audible through the phone.
[Serves them right — especially since the yen fell even further in the meantime. They tried to pull a fast one, but now their currency losses are even bigger than before.]
"Exactly."
[The final amount isn't confirmed yet, but if all the option contracts are liquidated, the net profit after expenses will be around $3.1 billion.]
Seok-won's smile deepened.
"That's not bad. A decent enough return."
Landon chuckled.
[If word gets out on Wall Street, people will lose their minds... but you sound completely unfazed — I guess that's why you're the boss.]
It didn't matter how long he worked under him — Landon knew he'd never be able to match Seok-won's nerves of steel.
Still smiling faintly, Seok-won replied,
"If we plan to keep doing business in Japan, it won't help us to leave any bad blood with the Ministry of Finance. Once things are wrapped up, make sure to grease the right palms so there's no lingering resentment."
[Understood.]
This wasn't a one-time hit-and-run — Japan was still a goldmine waiting to be tapped dry. Securing cozy relationships with high-ranking bureaucrats would make future hunting much easier.
'Stopping now would be such a waste... Might as well stick in the straw and suck them dry — down to the very marrow.'
Seok-won had never felt the slightest pang of guilt about squeezing Japan for everything it was worth.
He wouldn't have to wait long — the next big score was already on the horizon.
After wrapping up the call, Seok-won slipped his phone into his trouser pocket.
As if perfectly timed, Na Seongmi knocked and stepped into the office.
"Team Leader Choi Ho-geun from Team 4 is here."
"Send him in."
Moments later, Choi Ho-geun entered, dressed in a navy blue suit. He gave a polite bow.
"Have a seat."
"Yes, sir."
Seok-won took the upper seat on the sofa, crossing one leg over the other. Choi sat on the empty sofa to his right, his posture slightly stiff.
Leaning back lazily, Seok-won observed the faint tension on Choi's face.
"What's the matter?"
Without a word, Choi reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out several slim envelopes, placing them neatly on the table.
Seok-won glanced at the envelopes on the table before lifting his gaze to Choi Ho-geun.
"What's this?"
"Resignation letters."
Choi's voice was steady, his expression unwavering.
"The entire Team 4 — myself included — has decided to follow you, sir."
Seok-won rested his interlocked fingers on his knee, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Every single member? No one left behind?"
"Yes, sir."
"And they all made that decision of their own free will?"
He asked as if to confirm.
Choi met his eyes without flinching.
"Absolutely."
A small nod.
Without breaking eye contact, Seok-won pushed the envelopes back across the table.
"Take them back."
"Pardon?"
Choi's face clouded with confusion.
He'd steeled himself for this moment — rallied the entire team, prepared the letters — only to have them handed back without a second glance.
"We'll wrap up the year as usual. I'm not moving until next year, so there's no need to rush."
"Ah... Understood."
The flicker of disappointment on Choi's face was hard to miss.
He'd thought he was proving his loyalty — showing they were ready to follow Seok-won to the ends of the earth. But now, standing there with his carefully prepared letters returned to him, it felt like he'd jumped the gun.
Seok-won's eyes crinkled at the corners in a faint smile.
"This isn't public knowledge yet, but..."
Choi blinked, leaning in slightly.
"The fourth quarter's performance dipped a little... but we still outperformed the index and smashed our annual target. The year-end bonuses are going to be quite generous."
Inside the company, the mood had been gloomy — with the market downturn, most employees were bracing for a disappointing payout.
Hearing otherwise straight from Seok-won's mouth, Choi's eyes lit up.
"Really?"
"Between us... you know our PI desk outperformed every other securities firm this year. That's not up for debate."
Choi nodded quickly, a trace of pride flickering across his face.
"That's true."
Seok-won's voice dropped to a smoother, more conspiratorial tone.
"On top of the regular bonuses... there's going to be a special bonus payout."
"Special bonus?"
Choi's eyes widened.
The tension from earlier melted away in an instant.
Money really was the best medicine — especially for a year's worth of sleepless nights and endless pressure.
For salarymen like them, the year-end bonus wasn't just a paycheck — it was proof their sacrifices had been worth it.
Seok-won's smile lingered as he watched Choi's face brighten.
But then—
"However..."
Seok-won dragged out the end of his sentence, casting a sidelong glance at Choi Ho-geun — whose face was practically glowing with anticipation.
"If you resign now, you'll lose both the year-end performance bonus and the special payout... Wouldn't that be a shame?"
"H-Huh?"
Choi swallowed hard.
It was clear the thought had never even crossed his mind.
"Y-You're absolutely right."
Watching him fluster like a deer caught in headlights, Seok-won's playful streak kicked in.
"Hmm... Then again... With how busy things will get soon, maybe taking a little break before moving on wouldn't be such a bad idea. Recharge your batteries — clear your mind. What do you think?"
Choi's face stiffened.
He could practically feel the money slipping through his fingers.
Seok-won knew it too — but he feigned obliviousness, playing the part of a benevolent boss.
"It's not easy, is it? Day in, day out — your nerves stretched to the limit, riding the markets... It wears a man down. Maybe a little rest would do you good."
He reached toward the resignation envelopes again — this time as if to accept them.
But before his fingers could graze the paper, Choi snatched them off the table faster than lightning, stuffing them back into his jacket.
"On second thought... I wouldn't feel right leaving the company without tying up loose ends. And since you're staying until the end of the year, sir — it's only right that we stick by your side until then."
His eyes darted left and right, desperately searching for something to justify his backpedaling.
"They say those who leave without a trace are the truly beautiful ones... Ha ha!"
Seok-won's lips curled into a smirk.
"That's a bathroom slogan, isn't it?"
"..."
Choi's smile froze as he shifted his gaze to the floor.
"Ahem... Well... Yes... But still—"
Seok-won leaned back, barely suppressing the laughter threatening to bubble up.
"If the entire Team 4 quit at once, it would put a lot of strain on the remaining staff. For now, let's keep business as usual and start transferring duties little by little. Sound fair?"
"Yes, sir! Absolutely!"
Choi snapped to attention, like a soldier relieved to be spared a death sentence.
"Market's still open, isn't it? You should get back to work."
"Understood!"
Choi bolted from the office like his life depended on it.
Left alone, Seok-won chuckled quietly, watching the door close behind him.
"With Team 4 on board, staffing won't be a problem."
It was a small but crucial piece of the larger puzzle.
Seok-won was a shark — and the Korean stock market was little more than a fishbowl to him.
Even releasing a fraction of his capital into the market would send the KOSPI index into convulsions — a walking ecosystem disruptor.
That's why, at least until the IMF crisis played out, he'd let Choi Ho-geun and Team 4 take point.
His name — Eldorado Fund — would remain in the shadows, pulling the strings.
Still...
"I'll need a front. A shiny, respectable name to hang on the door."
Seok-won ran a hand over his clean-shaven jaw, deep in thought.
It didn't take long for him to make up his mind.
"Yes... That would be best."