Central and Western District, Hong Kong — August 6, 1997.
"We've been releasing dollars to barely maintain the upper limit of the currency band, but the offensive is so fierce… honestly, I can't guarantee how much longer we can hold out."
Jo-gang, the Director of the Foreign Reserves Bureau, looked noticeably gaunt after a month of battling against speculative attacks. His grim report caused the others gathered on the sofas to let out heavy sighs, their expressions equally dark.
Henry Woo, the Chief Executive of the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region, glanced at Jo-gang, Cheung Tak-woo—the head of the Monetary Authority—and Paul Chang, the Financial Secretary, as he asked,
"I heard that the speculators poured in 35 billion Hong Kong dollars just today. Is that correct?"
Cheung Tak-woo, Governor of the HKMA—effectively acting as the central bank—replied with exhaustion etched deep on his face,
"Actually, after additional sell-offs later in the day, the figure has well exceeded 40 billion Hong Kong dollars."
"Hmmph…"
Letting out a pained groan, Henry Woo furrowed his brow. Seeing this, Cheung Tak-woo continued,
"The real problem is that the dumping of Hong Kong dollars by speculators like the Quantum Fund shows no sign of slowing in the London forex market either."
As a businessman-turned-politician, Henry Woo could sense the gravity of the situation. Arms crossed, he muttered,
"Looks like they're throwing everything they've got into this, aiming for a final, decisive blow."
Director Jo-gang, seated on his left, spoke with a hardened face,
"I believe so as well."
Paul Chang, across from them, let out a deep sigh,
"I fear Beijing's call to the White House may have backfired."
At this, Henry Woo narrowed his eyes and shook his head,
"No. If anything, it had an effect—that's why they're pressing us so aggressively now."
All three men turned toward him with puzzled looks.
"What do you mean by that?"
"You're saying it did have an effect?"
Lightly tapping the sofa armrest with his fingertip, Henry Woo explained,
"They must've heard something from the White House. That's why they're coming at us like this, as if they're being chased—trying to corner us quickly."
Cheung Tak-woo paused to think, then gave a small nod,
"Now that you mention it, it is strange. They've been slowly tightening the noose like a hunter, but now they're suddenly overreaching and rushing the attack."
Paul Chang also stroked his chin and agreed,
"Yes, they do seem unusually desperate."
At that moment, Jo-gang spoke in a hoarse voice,
"But even so, if we collapse under this barrage before Beijing's pressure bears fruit, then none of it will matter."
"They're probably counting on exactly that."
At Henry Woo's words, the expressions of the three gathered men grew even graver.
Soon, Henry Woo turned his head to look at Governor Cheung Tak-woo and asked,
"How much foreign reserves do we have left?"
Under his gaze, Cheung Tak-woo answered with a gloomy face,
"Just under 47 billion dollars."
"Phew…"
"Hmm…"
Hearing the remaining figure, both the two bureau chiefs and Henry Woo involuntarily grimaced and let out weary sighs.
Before the onslaught from the currency speculators, Hong Kong had over 92.8 billion dollars in reserves. In just a month, more than half had been wiped out—it was no wonder their faces darkened.
With a serious look in his eyes, Henry Woo asked,
"What's the absolute limit we can go down to?"
"We already passed the danger threshold some time ago."
"I know that. But we've held on this long; we can't just throw in the towel now, can we?"
Cheung Tak-woo wore a troubled expression and, after a moment's thought, replied,
"I believe we could manage to hold the line down to 35 billion dollars."
"So that leaves us with about 12 billion more we can use to defend the currency. That feels too tight… Let's set the last line at 30 billion."
Cheung Tak-woo immediately looked dismayed,
"That won't do! If our reserves fall that low, it's not just the currency band that's at risk—we could find ourselves on the brink of default!"
"I know. But it's clear as day that in the coming days, they'll launch an all-out offensive to force our surrender. And for that, even 17 billion may not be enough."
Henry Woo's gaze was firm—he had already made up his mind. His unyielding stare pressed Cheung Tak-woo harder.
"If we fail to win this round, then all the reserves we've burned through up to now will have been wasted—and the damage to Hong Kong's economy will be irreversible."
Faced with such determination, Cheung Tak-woo had no choice but to let out a heavy sigh.
"...Fine. Understood. But absolutely no lower than that!"
"Don't worry. I have no intention of dragging us to the brink of default."
With that, Henry Woo shifted his eyes to Jo-gang.
"This will be the final battle. Use every means at your disposal to fend off the speculators' attacks."
This was truly a last stand—a life-or-death gamble.
Though utterly exhausted, Jo-gang's eyes still burned with resolve as he nodded.
"I'll do everything I can."
"I'm counting on you."
Leaning back in his chair, Henry Woo muttered to himself, as if speaking only to his own thoughts,
"Just this once. I only need to get through this one time."
***
"I'll be heading out now, sir."
At his aide Han Ji-sung's words, Seok-won gave a small nod.
"Good work. I'll see you in the morning."
Han Ji-sung bowed and remained standing until the elevator doors closed with Seok-won inside. Only after the elevator stopped at an upper floor did he turn and leave.
Meanwhile, back inside his home, Seok-won switched on the lights, illuminating the living room.
The bright light revealed a neatly arranged space, no different from any other day.
Seok-won shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of the sofa before heading to the refrigerator. He pulled out a can of beer and popped it open.
The cool drink seemed to ease the tight knot of unease lodged in his chest, if only slightly.
With the beer in hand, he stepped into the living room, picked up the remote from the coffee table, and turned on the large TV mounted opposite him.
The news was just beginning, with a male anchor reporting on the plane crash that had occurred in Guam earlier that day.
[... Flight KE-801, a Boeing 747-300 operated by Kookmin Airlines, departed from Gimpo Airport at 8:20 PM on the 5th and was scheduled to arrive early this morning at A.B. Won Pat International Airport in Agana, the capital of Guam. However, just before landing, communication with the control tower was lost, and the plane crashed in the jungle area known as 'Nimitz Hill,' about 5 kilometers from the airport.
The Kookmin Airlines crisis management team and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs have announced that 33 injured passengers have been rescued and are receiving treatment at local hospitals.
Meanwhile, the Blue House has issued a statement from the President, expressing deep condolences to the victims and their families and pledging that the government will do everything possible to rescue survivors and provide medical care for the injured.
An emergency flight carrying the families of the passengers is en route...]
As images of the wreckage appeared on screen— the massive airliner shattered beyond recognition, with only part of its tail section remaining intact — Seok-won's face twisted with guilt.
"I can't believe I forgot this was going to happen…"
So focused had he been on the looming IMF crisis that he had completely neglected to remember the aviation disaster unfolding in Guam.
It wasn't until he saw the breaking news this morning that the memory resurfaced, souring his mood for the entire day.
Of course, even with all his knowledge from the future, Seok-won knew he couldn't possibly prevent every disaster that was yet to come.
But the thought kept gnawing at him— if only he hadn't forgotten, if he had managed to take some kind of action, perhaps the 228 lives lost in the crash could have been spared. The guilt weighed heavily on him.
Adding to his sorrow was the fact that, though poor weather in Guam played a role, the accident was fundamentally caused by human error: pilot misjudgment combined with critical issues like the ILS guidance system being installed far from where it should have been at the runway's threshold. A preventable tragedy, which only deepened his regret.
As Seok-won sat there, watching the news with a heavy heart, his phone suddenly buzzed.
He retrieved it from his jacket slung over the sofa and checked the number on the display before answering.
"It's me."
Sensing the dark cloud in Seok-won's voice, Landon cautiously asked,
[Sir, is something the matter?]
"No."
Seok-won answered and turned off the television with the remote.
Landon could sense something was off, that the mood was different from usual. But since Seok-won was clearly avoiding the subject, he didn't press further and instead got straight to the point.
[I've found out, through Treasury Secretary Frank, what was discussed between President Zhang and the White House.]
Seok-won, wiping the gloomy look off his face, immediately responded,
"Tell me everything."
[Just as rumored, President Zhang told them that if the speculative attacks on Hong Kong continued, China would have no choice but to devalue the yuan by 20% in order to defend its currency.]
"A 20% devaluation? China's playing a much stronger card than I expected."
[Well, to get the White House to finally move, they'd have to put something like that on the table, wouldn't they?]
"That's true."
If China really did devalue the yuan by 20%, it would completely derail the U.S. government's plan to weaken the dollar and reduce its chronic fiscal deficit.
"The hedge funds like Quantum Fund can just cash out and walk away once they've made their profit. But the White House, which has to manage the broader economic policy, can't just stand by while Asian currencies keep dropping one after another."
[Exactly. They've worked hard to weaken the dollar to boost export competitiveness—if the counterpart currencies fall even further, it would all be for nothing.]
This much Seok-won had already anticipated. Gripping his phone a little tighter, he asked,
"So, what did the White House decide to do?"
[They told President Zhang that such a yuan devaluation would amount to manipulating exchange rates, and that if China went ahead with it, it would seriously strain U.S.-China relations. They gave a strong warning.]
"That's it?"
Seok-won frowned slightly.
[And they gave George Soros, who's leading the attack on Hong Kong, three days to wrap this up.]
In that instant, Seok-won caught on to what was really happening, and his eyes gleamed.
"They want him to force a surrender within that window."
[That's right.]
"Now it makes sense why George Soros is going all-in, pushing so recklessly."
[With today's carpet-bombing-style assault—dumping Hong Kong dollars en masse—it's possible the Hong Kong government might not last much longer and be forced to capitulate, isn't it?]
"Well…"
Seok-won thought for a moment, then raised one corner of his mouth in a faint smirk.
"We'll have to see how it plays out. But just like I predicted from the start, I still think Hong Kong has the upper hand here."
[Even after they dumped over 40 billion Hong Kong dollars in just one day?]
"Three days—no, one day has already passed, so it's two now. And if we've managed to find this out, you can bet the Hong Kong government will hear about it soon enough. Once they realize this attack has a time limit, they'll see a glimmer of hope and will fight tooth and nail to hold out until the deadline. On the other hand, George Soros and the hedge funds will only grow more anxious as time ticks by."
There was a world of difference between blindly enduring and enduring with the knowledge that survival only required holding on until a certain point.
[Now that you put it that way, it makes sense.]
Landon, grasping the logic, readily agreed.
"If the hedge funds start to sense that they might not be able to break Hong Kong, they'll begin pulling out one by one to cut their losses. And once that starts, the entire assault will collapse."
[Right. The sooner they exit, the smaller the losses, so as the deadline nears, there will definitely be some who start getting cold feet.]
"Considering that, tomorrow night is shaping up to be the real turning point in this fight."