"Bought 20 at 7.85!"
"Okay. Done!"
"Goldman just put out a sell order for 50 at 7.87."
"Damn it. Buy them up, now!"
"Order filled."
"Lehman just listed 60 for sale at 7.87!"
At the frontlines of defending the Hong Kong dollar, the trading center of the foreign exchange reserves hadn't gone dark for a single day since the speculative attack began. It was running 24/7 without a moment's pause.
As the relentless wave of Hong Kong dollar dumping hammered them day and night, the traders barely had time to leave their desks, let alone go home. Meals were reduced to hastily devoured burgers, sandwiches, and pizza right in front of their screens as they scrambled to absorb the hedge funds' sell orders and somehow hold the currency band in place.
Chun Long-chan, with his shirt sleeves rolled up and no tie, was also moving briskly, keeping a close eye on the exchange rate movements and shouting orders to the traders.
The coffee a female staffer had brought him sat cold on his desk, untouched — he hadn't even had a spare second to sip it.
Still staring at the giant market board installed opposite him, Chun finally grabbed the mug. Only then did he notice the coffee had gone cold, and with a grimace, he set it back down.
"How's the situation looking?"
Turning at the voice behind him, he saw Director Jo-gang standing there, his face just as worn and exhausted.
"Not good," Chun replied, his voice hoarse from shouting too much as he placed one hand on his waist.
"We've already burned through over 5.1 billion dollars absorbing the sell orders, but instead of easing up, the selling pressure is actually getting heavier by the hour."
Director Jo-gang lifted his gaze to the big board above, where the rate was barely holding within the band, and calmly offered encouragement.
"I know it's tough, but we're almost through. Do whatever it takes — just get us through today."
Chun, aware that the speculators were racing against their own time limit, let out a quiet sigh and gave a nod.
"I'll do my best."
"Good. I'm counting on you."
Director Jo-gang gave Chun's shoulder a light pat.
Normally, that recognition from his boss would have filled him with pride — but right now, the crushing weight of responsibility pressed heavily on both shoulders.
***
Over in Manhattan, at the Quantum Fund's trading floor on 7th Avenue, the place roared like a marketplace with ringing phones and dozens of traders shouting orders back and forth.
"Sold 150 at 7.88!"
"Same as before — hit it again!"
"Done!"
Watching the numbers on the giant board, Ian, the chief manager, stood with his arms crossed, scowling. Things weren't going as smoothly as he'd hoped.
[HKD: 7.85]
In London alone, Quantum had dumped hundreds of millions worth of Hong Kong dollars, but every time the price crept past the band set at 7.75 to 7.85 per dollar, the Hong Kong Monetary Authority (HKMA) would swoop in and buy up every last sell order without hesitation.
A few times, the rate managed to poke above the band ceiling, but each time, the HKMA's aggressive intervention yanked it right back down. The rate had been stuck hovering stubbornly at 7.85.
"Tsk."
Ian, the chief manager, clicked his tongue in frustration and called over Marles, the head of the FX trading team, who was busy rallying the traders with his sleeves rolled up.
"Marles!"
Marles turned his head and hurried over, slightly flushed.
"Yes, sir?"
"How much Hong Kong dollars do we have left?"
"Roughly 25 billion HKD at the moment."
Ian frowned at the answer.
Quantum Fund had borrowed an additional 80 billion HKD just for this three-day onslaught. And yet, even after burning through nearly three-quarters of that, they still hadn't managed to break the currency band — the Hong Kong government was stubbornly holding the line. No wonder his expression darkened.
"Do you think we can break through with what's left?"
Marles, catching Ian's sharp gaze, shook his head.
"Frankly, sir, seeing how firmly the HKMA is standing its ground, I'd say it's going to be tough."
Ian shared the same grim outlook. He rubbed his forehead, visibly annoyed.
"Understood. Keep the pressure on, but if our remaining ammo drops below 10 billion HKD, report to me immediately."
"Got it."
Marles nodded and returned to his station.
Ian lifted his eyes to the rate display, where the exchange rate still hovered stubbornly at 7.85, and his face tightened in thought. Just then, the phone on his desk rang sharply, breaking his focus.
He picked up the receiver. Rodney, the CIO, wasted no time getting straight to the point.
[What's the situation?]
With the phone pressed to his ear, Ian kept his eyes on the big board as he replied.
"We're still pushing in more cash, but it's stuck at 7.85 — can't break past it."
[You do realize we're running out of time, don't you?]
"...Yes."
[NationsBank and Citi have agreed to lend an extra 30 billion HKD. Use it. By midnight, I want Hong Kong on its knees, no matter what it takes.]
The promise of another 30 billion HKD in fresh short-selling ammo made Ian's eyes gleam.
"I'll make sure Hong Kong bows before us."
His voice regained its vigor as he ended the call and set the receiver down.
At that very moment, a trader's loud shout echoed across the floor:
"New York FX market just opened!"
***
As the battle between Hong Kong and the hedge funds raged on across continents, Daehung Venture Capital's Asset Management Division was also spending sleepless nights, watching the fight with razor-sharp focus.
"Manager Yoo."
"Yes, sir."
"In the past two days, how much HKMA has bought up in dumped Hong Kong dollars?"
Choi Ho-geun, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, asked the question. Yoo Seok-hyun quickly checked his computer and answered at once.
"It's now over 120 billion Hong Kong dollars."
At that, Jung Hwan-yeop, who had been leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head, let out a short whistle.
"Pouring over 20 trillion won into defending the exchange rate... that's pretty incredible."
Even as the rest of the team exchanged anxious glances, their eyes stayed glued to the trading screens where the dumping and buying continued in rapid cycles.
Choi Ho-geun calmly pulled a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket and lit it as he spoke.
"Just shows how fiercely both sides are fighting this out."
He took a deep drag and slowly exhaled a long plume of white smoke.
"One thing's certain — whoever loses this battle is going to take a massive hit."
Hong Jae-hee, dressed in slacks and a blouse with her hair tied back, kept her eyes on the monitor as she chimed in.
"Both sides are throwing in everything they've got. Like you said, sir, the fallout's going to be huge."
Jung, though speaking with his usual light tone, had a cold, steady look in his eyes.
"If that's all it is, they'll be lucky. At this rate, Hong Kong's reserves must be scraping the bottom. If they throw in the towel now, they could be staring down a default crisis. On the flip side, if the hedge funds lose, they're so leveraged they'll go bust en masse."
The sheer extremity of both possible outcomes made everyone tense. Faces hardened, and a few swallowed dryly without realizing it.
"Which is why they're going at each other like it's life or death," Choi Ho-geun said, his voice low and heavy.
His words drew silent, solemn nods from the team.
Just then, his phone rang. Reaching into his pocket, Choi pulled it out and answered.
"Yes, this is Choi Ho-geun."
[It's me.]
Recognizing the voice of Seok Won, the company president, Choi quickly stubbed out the cigarette he had in his mouth.
"Yes, sir. Go ahead."
Immediately, every eye in the office turned toward Choi, who was now the center of attention.
[What's the Hang Seng futures at right now?]
Choi glanced at the big market board on the wall and responded without missing a beat.
"6,500, sir."
[With our average buy-in at 15,500... that's a 58% drop.]
"Yes, sir."
As he answered, Choi Ho-geun couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration for Seok-won's foresight.
While everyone else was locked in a bloody, all-out currency war, Seok-won had once again sidestepped the chaos and pulled off another jaw-dropping profit through futures trading.
While the rest were stuck rolling in the mud, Seok-won alone remained above it all — calm, calculated, and ahead of the game. It was impossible not to be impressed.
[With the fight between the Hong Kong government and the hedge funds escalating, the Hang Seng futures are plunging even further.]
"That's part of it, but what's really driving the drop is growing speculation that the Hong Kong government won't be able to hold out much longer and will soon have to surrender. That outlook is dragging futures down hard."
[Given the ferocity of the hedge funds' onslaught, it's no wonder.]
Seok-won paused for a beat, then spoke again.
[Now, I want you to liquidate our entire position.]
"You mean... right now?"
Choi Ho-geun's eyes widened as he asked for confirmation.
[Yes. This is the bottom. Close out everything — leave nothing on the table.]
Choi glanced at the big board in front of him, then adjusted his grip on his phone.
"You believe Hong Kong is going to win this fight?"
The response came back immediately, firm and unshaken.
[That's right. So make sure everything's wrapped up before the New York FX market closes.]
While the Hong Kong government had been holding on admirably, anyone watching could see that the hedge funds still had the upper hand.
Most investors expected today to be the breaking point — that the Hong Kong authorities would finally throw in the towel.
And if they did, the Hong Kong dollar would plunge, and the Hang Seng Index would nosedive even further.
That's why this sudden order to completely unwind their short positions left Choi momentarily stunned.
But this was Seok-won — a man whose uncanny foresight and judgment had proven right time and again. It didn't take long for Choi to shake off his doubt.
"Understood. I'll execute your orders right away."
[Let me know when the position is fully cleared.]
With that, Seok-won ended the call.
As Choi lowered his phone, still gripping it tightly, Jung Hwan-yeop, who had been watching like a hawk, immediately pounced.
"What did the president say?"
Choi Ho-geun snapped his phone shut and slid it back into his pocket. Turning to face his team, he raised his voice with authority.
"Listen up, everyone. We're starting liquidation now. Get everything offloaded as quickly as possible."
His announcement drew startled looks from the team.
Manager Jung Hwan-yeop dropped his hands from behind his head and leaned forward, his expression incredulous.
"If the hedge funds win, the Hang Seng will drop even further. And you're saying we should close out now?"
The rest of the team shot him the same baffled look — none of them quite getting it.
But Choi met their eyes, his voice steady and firm.
"The president believes Hong Kong will come out on top, not the hedge funds."
"Huh?"
Jung let out a half-choked noise, but Choi ignored it and pressed on.
"Either way, we've already made more than enough profit. Rather than taking on more risk, cashing out here isn't a bad call."
"Well… when you put it like that…" Jung muttered.
"Honestly, I'm sick of all these late nights watching Hang Seng futures crash. Glad it's over."
Though surprised at first, the team quickly fell in line the moment they heard the order came from Seok-won.
Such was the absolute trust the asset management division had in his judgment.
Clapping his hands once for emphasis, Choi barked out his final order.
"Alright, every second counts — get moving!"
"Yes, sir!"
"On it!"
Jung and the rest sprang into action, fingers flying over keyboards and phones pressed to ears as they launched into rapid liquidation of their positions.