pertwk Chapter 212 A Dream I Don't Want to Wake From
Chapter 212 A Dream I Don't Want to Wake From
(A long chapter of 6300 words~ The climax is coming!)
December 25, 1989.
Nikkei Average: 30,120 points
Nihonbashi-moto-ishi-cho, Tokyo.
The president's office at the Bank of Japan (BOJ) headquarters building.
"Shhh—"
The iridium nib of the Platinum black resin fountain pen glides across a thick sheet of official paper bearing the joint logo of the Ministry of Finance and the Bank of Japan. (Note: Platinum is a brand.)
The slightly astringent aroma of premium Shizuoka sencha floated in the air.
Sixty-five-year-old Yasushi Mieno sat upright behind a large cherry wood desk.
His right hand, holding the pen, had large knuckles, and the prominent veins on the back of his hand showed the force he was applying to the pen.
The final stroke was made.
He closed the pen cap and placed it on the brass pen holder.
Mieno Yasushi extended his left hand, picked up the official seal symbolizing the supreme power of the Bank of Japan, and pressed it heavily into the vermilion ink. Then, he smoothly moved the seal to the end of the document, aligned it with the signature area, and pressed down sharply with his wrist.
"Smack."
The bright red marks were deeply embedded in the texture of the paper.
Resolution on Adjusting the Official Discount Rate (Official Discount Rate).
The resolution is lengthy, but in summary, its key point can be summed up in just one sentence.
"In order to prevent problems from escalating and to promote the return of the macroeconomy to a sustainable and steady growth path, it is hereby decided to increase the current standard rate of return by 0.5 percentage points from 3.75 percent to 4.25 percent."
0.5 percentage points.
It was only raised by 0.5 percentage points.
In pure mathematical calculations, it is merely a tiny, insignificant mark after the decimal point.
But in the world of finance, this seemingly insignificant number can be enough to destroy everything.
Mieno Yasushi put the seal back in its original place.
He placed his hands clasped on the table, his back ramrod straight. His gaze passed over the newly signed document and fell upon the city shrouded in gloomy winter clouds outside the floor-to-ceiling window.
In the distance, in Ginza and Marunouchi, the glass curtain walls of skyscrapers refracted a cold luster under the dim daylight.
The place was filled with drunkards waving large bills and scrambling for taxis.
The place is full of nouveau riche who can make billions of dollars in profits on paper by reselling land.
It is filled with politicians who are rotten to the core by all sorts of scandals.
The country was filled with people lost in their fantasies.
An overwhelming sense of disgust slowly rose from Mieno Yasushi's chest.
This prosperity, built on a hollow myth of land ownership and credit expansion, completely contradicts the industrial foundation upon which Japan has relied for survival since the postwar era. If this continues, the heavy industries that truly sustain the nation—machine tools, semiconductor production lines, and automobile manufacturing plants—will be utterly deprived of their lifeblood.
As a traditional financial bureaucrat who had served through the postwar reconstruction period, he firmly believed that Japan's national destiny should be built on the roar of heavy machine tools and the precision of semiconductor production lines. The land myths and numerical games built on credit expansion were completely draining the lifeblood of the nation's industry.
Therefore, he wanted to personally crush this colorful, deformed tumor.
Even if this decision would burden him with the infamy of "destroying Japan's golden age," even if he would be nailed to the pillar of historical shame by countless speculators who lost everything, he would never back down.
Behind this almost obsessive personal ambition lies a vast and terrifying silent force.
Behind him stood the traditional manufacturing giants hidden deep within the Friday Club and the Two Wood Club, and the conservative bureaucrats who scorned the nouveau riche. These old rulers, marginalized by the frenzy of capitalism, desperately needed an executioner who was fearless in the face of reckoning and dared to wield a heavy hammer to force this madly derailed train back onto its original track.
Mieno Yasushi knew full well the situation he would face after this heavy blow landed.
Once the bubble bursts, countless bankrupt business owners and unemployed middle-class people will unleash all their resentment and curses upon him.
All of Japan will hate him.
But so what?
He looked away, picked up the cup of sencha on the table that had gone completely cold, and drank it all in one gulp.
The bitter and icy tea slid down my throat into my stomach, bringing a refreshing chill.
He was completely unconcerned about the impending insults.
Now that we're in this position, someone has to pull the trigger.
"Go ahead and publish it."
Mieno Yasushi's voice was deep.
The confidential secretary, who had been waiting quietly in front of the desk, picked up the document with both hands and bowed deeply.
"Yes, President."
The secretary turned and quickly walked to a heavy-duty fax machine in the corner of the office, stuffing the document into the paper feed slot.
"Sizzle—sizzle—"
The rollers rotated, and the green indicator light flashed rapidly.
The interest rate hike order traveled at the speed of light through a complex network of underground fiber optic cables to financial terminals across Japan.
……
Nihonbashi Kabutocho, Tokyo Stock Exchange.
There is one and a half hours left before the afternoon session closes.
Inside the enormous trading hall, thousands of traders in red vests were in a state of extreme physical frenzy. Orders filled with buy and sell instructions flew through the air, the clanging of telephone receivers mingled with the hoarse shouts of humans, and the fluorescent light bulbs on the ceiling hummed loudly.
"Buy! Daiwa Securities has added 30,000 shares!"
"Toshiba! Buy it at market price!"
The fervent atmosphere made the temperature here at least five degrees higher than outside.
Above the main hall, a giant mechanical flip-page price list, over ten meters long, emitted a continuous "click" sound as the black plastic flip-page with white lettering scrolled rapidly, and the Nikkei index continued to climb at a high of 38,100 points.
Sudden.
The dedicated teletype machine connected to the Bank of Japan's information channel emitted an extremely piercing buzzing alarm.
"Slap, slap, slap, slap!"
The brass printing needles pounded wildly against the ribbon.
A senior trading executive closest to the typewriter abruptly turned his head. He ripped off the thermal paper, still smoldering from the machine's heat, and quickly scanned its surface.
The trading manager's breathing paused for a moment. He leaned closer, looking at the screen again in disbelief.
"The Bank of Japan... raised interest rates!"
The manager turned around and roared at the group of traders in front of the trading desk. His voice cracked from extreme shock.
This news was like a block of ice thrown into boiling water.
The deafening clamor in the hall, loud enough to lift the roof, plummeted in a bizarre two seconds. Countless red-vested individuals, who had been frantically making buy signals, froze in place, their raised arms hanging in mid-air. Telephone receivers were clutched tightly to their chests.
Everyone looked up at the giant price list at the top of the hall.
Click...
Click.
Click!
The clicking of gears on the mechanical flip-board sounded incredibly dull at this moment. The Nikkei index, which had been trending upwards, experienced a brief dip under this sudden negative blow.
38,250 points.
The hall remained deathly silent. Thousands of eyes were fixed on the black-and-white plastic sign. The transaction documents held high in the air froze in their hands, even the rise and fall of their chests stopped for a moment.
38,250 points.
A suppressed gasp rippled through the crowd. A seasoned trader's pencil slipped silently from his hand, slamming against the wooden trading table with a sharp, jarring sound. The faces of the red-vested traders, flushed with excitement, rapidly lost their color under the lights.
38,250 points.
A heavy sense of oppression gripped everyone's throats. Several young traders' fingers were already hovering above the telephone dial pad, trembling violently.
At this moment, a single large sell order can completely shatter a fragile psychological defense.
Everyone held their breath, clinging to their last breath.
……
Two blocks from the stock exchange. A high-end members-only tea room in Ginza 7-chome.
Matsuura, the president of Matsuura Construction, was sitting on a soft leather sofa. On the low black table in front of him sat a mobile phone connected to an external line and a cup of premium Darjeeling tea that was still steaming.
The phone was on speakerphone, and the slightly flustered voice of the personal stockbroker could be heard coming from it.
"President Matsuura! Yasushi Mieno just announced an interest rate hike. The market is currently experiencing a pullback of nearly 200 points. We just secured 5 billion yen in financing yesterday by mortgaging two of the company's commercial buildings. Should we still use that money to buy Nippon Steel and NTT shares as planned?"
Matsuura remained leaning forward. He held a half-smoked cigarette between his left and right hands, gripping the sofa armrest tightly. His fingernails left faint white scratches on the expensive calfskin.
His eyes were fixed on the telephone on the low table.
Raise interest rates.
This means that the cost of borrowing money has increased.
This means that funds circulating in the market will be withdrawn back to banks.
For a real estate developer like Matsuura, whose debt ratio has exceeded 600% and which relies entirely on high-interest bridge loans to maintain its cash flow, this should have been an extremely dangerous and fatal sign.
The cigarette embers flickered uncertainly in the faint breaths. A long, grayish-white ash finally succumbed to gravity, snapping with a "crack" and falling onto the smooth hem of the suit trousers.
Matsuura was completely unaware of the cigarette ash on his legs.
His mind was in a frenzy of panic and long-cultivated extreme greed.
Only ten seconds passed.
Matsuura abruptly stubbed out his cigarette in the crystal ashtray. The embers were roughly crushed at the bottom of the glass.
"buy."
His voice was hoarse, and a dry, grinding sound came from deep in his throat.
"President Matsuura? But what about the Bank of Japan..."
"I told you to buy! All in!" Matsuura roared into the phone, veins bulging on his neck. "Use your pig brain and think this through! Why did Mieno Yasushi raise interest rates at the end of the year? What does that mean?"
He gasped for breath, forcibly twisting the deadly gunshot into a battle cry.
"This shows that Japan's economy is just too strong! So strong that even the Ministry of Finance and the Bank of Japan are afraid it's growing too fast and have to use interest rate hikes to apply some brakes!"
"All the bad news is out! This is officially certified economic prosperity!"
"This pullback is a free opportunity for us to buy in! Let's throw all 5 billion into it! When the Nikkei index breaks 40,000 points next spring, I'm going to use the profits to buy up the entire Hong Kong market!"
There was a brief two-second silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a response from the agent, who was equally infected by this fervent emotion.
"Understood! We'll buy in with your full position!"
……
In this island nation where rationality has been completely destroyed by five years of soaring prices, Matsuura's reaction is by no means an isolated case.
After the initial shock and brief sell-off in the first ten minutes, countless tycoons, retail investors, and institutional traders quickly completed this collective logical self-consistency.
The nerves of greed had long been numbed by the long-term high returns. People deliberately shut their ears, forcibly translating the gunshot that pierced the bubble into a salute to the indestructible economy.
Inside the trading hall of Kabutocho.
"Click".
The machinery price list made another dull thud as it turned pages.
This time, the direction of the jump was completely reversed.
Panic buying surged into the trading pool like a flood bursting its banks, instantly swallowing up the negligible 200-point drop from before.
38,250 points.
A crack appeared in the stagnant air. The young trader, who had just been wiping away cold sweat, suddenly looked up, his pale cheeks instantly turning bright red from the rush of blood to his head.
38,250 points.
The oppressive silence was violently ripped apart. Several men in red vests sprang up from the wooden control panel as if struck by a high-voltage current. They kicked aside the chairs blocking their way, grabbed the pre-filled buy orders from the table, and screamed madly at the liaison officer outside the room.
38,250 points.
A deafening roar erupted in the hall. The men in red vests hurled their sweat-drenched sell orders into the air. White scraps of paper fell like snowflakes beneath the incandescent light bulbs of the trading hall.
The scraps of paper landed on the scorching communication cables, where they were quickly trampled by countless feet in high-end leather shoes, mingling with the dust on the marble floor.
……
Chiyoda Ward, Marunouchi.
Saionji Industrial Headquarters Building. Four basement floors.
The highest level of security is reserved for strategic meeting rooms.
Saionji Satsuki leaned back in the large, leather swivel chair in the main seat.
She was wearing a soft, dark blue turtleneck cashmere sweater today.
Her eyelids drooped slightly, and her long eyelashes cast a shadow under her eyes.
The index and middle fingers of his left hand were slowly massaging the area between his eyebrows. The slight pressure applied by his fingertips caused a faint blush to rise on that small patch of fair skin.
Shuichi Saionji and Executive Director Endo were sitting upright on the right side of the long table.
Each of them had a heavy, encrypted data terminal placed in front of them.
Executive Director Endo extended his right hand and picked up the coffee cup beside him. The coffee had long since gone cold, the black liquid remaining motionless in the cup. He didn't drink it, but simply felt the coolness of the porcelain cup transferring to his palm.
He kept a close eye on the constantly fluctuating Nikkei index on the screen.
The markets outside are ignoring warnings of interest rate hikes and are indulging in a final frenzy.
Two seconds later.
Satsuki put down her hand that was rubbing her temples.
"The external noise has been mostly filtered out."
Satsuki's clear voice spread gently through the quiet meeting room.
"Yasu Mieno was a scavenger with Puritanical tendencies. In order to correct the course, he chose to overturn the speeding train directly."
"A competent butcher, but lacking in aesthetics."
She nodded slightly and picked up the bone china teacup on the table.
"Executive Director Endo, have you finished calculating and finalizing the domestic defenses?"
Endo immediately placed the coffee cup he was holding on the coaster.
He opened the black file in front of him, glanced at the final summary data, paused briefly, and sorted out his thoughts.
"Young Miss, Head of the Family... the final accounting of the sale plan was completed at 8:00 AM this morning." Endo slowed down a bit. "The 'Pink Building' in Akasaka, as well as the 142 marginal plots we acquired at a premium over the past two years, have all been transferred at high prices."
He turned a page, his fingers tightening slightly at the edge of the paper.
"As for the 'Crystal Palace' in Ginza, the original core ancestral property, and the new headquarters of Saionji Tower under construction in Odaiba... the legal debt firewall has also been set up. The huge amount of money raised from the sale has now been completely isolated and physically fragmented through one hundred independent umbrella trusts established by SA Investment in the Cayman Islands and Luxembourg."
"In other words..." Endo took a deep breath, "On our domestic balance sheet, apart from the core assets that must be retained and the necessary working capital to maintain the operation of the retail network, we have no other land that can be strangled by the impending credit gates."
Endo closed the file.
Satsuki listened quietly to the report.
She took a small sip of the warm black tea in her cup, and the tea slid down her throat, dispelling the slight chill in her stomach.
"Very good, all the anchor chains in the country have been cut."
"No matter how hard the Ministry of Finance slams the credit gates, it won't be able to strangle the Saionji family. We have safely exited this powder keg that was about to explode."
Her gaze swept across the table and landed on the edge of the control panel.
"Now that we've secured all our domestic assets, it's time to take stock of the nooses we've laid overseas."
"Judging by the timing, taking advantage of today's unusual surge in the market, the 'ghost' in New York should have already swallowed its last prey."
The voice just fell.
On the edge of the control panel, the red encrypted phone with its complex knobs lit up its indicator light without warning.
A red light flickered rapidly in the dimly lit, secret room.
Shuichi and Endo's gazes were instantly drawn to the phone. They instinctively straightened their backs, their breathing slowing down.
This phone call connected to a bottomless meat grinder on the other side of the world.
Satsuki extended her right hand and pressed the hands-free button with her index finger.
"Click".
A faint static noise from the undersea fiber optic cable emanated from the speaker. Immediately afterward, Frank's slightly hoarse yet eerily calm voice echoed throughout the conference room.
"Boss."
In the background music of Frank, one can faintly hear the dull thud of heavy rain pounding against the glass curtain wall in Manhattan, New York, after nightfall.
"Just now... we received simultaneous information about the Bank of Japan's interest rate hike." Frank paused, the rustling of papers turning carried on the radio. "The Chicago Mercantile Exchange and Singapore... did experience a very brief wave of panic selling in the first fifteen minutes after the announcement."
"Mr. Shimomura's 'Ghost' high-frequency order splitting algorithm accurately captured this tiny callback window... It divided our last batch of funds into extremely small orders, which then slipped into the gaps in the panic-driven sell orders completely and stealthily."
The static noise from the speaker seemed to be amplified countless times in that instant.
"Just now, while the Tokyo stock market was digesting the interest rate hike news and the market was rebounding... 'Ghost' bought the last deep out-of-the-money put option (OTM Puts)."
"Strike price, 25,000 points."
"Our one hundred independent trust accounts overseas are fully booked."
Executive Director Endo's fingers unconsciously gripped the fabric of his suit trousers.
Shuichi sat in the chair, his eyes fixed on the phone with its red light flashing.
"Mr. Frank..." Shuichi's voice trembled slightly with extreme tension, "What exactly has our total position reached?"
There was a three-second silence on the other end of the phone.
Frank then gave a figure that would make any financial regulator's heart stop.
"Using two billion US dollars in extremely leveraged option premiums. During the future exercise period..."
"Short positions with a notional principal amount of up to...300 billion US dollars have been locked up."
Three hundred billion.
Dollar.
Shuichi's pupils contracted sharply at that moment.
As the head of a century-old conglomerate, he was acutely aware of the physical weight this number carried.
Faced with such sheer magnitude, all complex financial terminology becomes meaningless. This is a truly astronomical figure, pure numerical violence stripped of all pretense.
Once the market's gravity reverses, this terrifying mass, formed by massive amounts of capital, will pour down, and its inherent physical kinetic energy will be enough to crush everything on the earth's surface.
"Good job, Frank. From now on, disconnect all physical connections to trading channels and enter a state of silence."
"clear."
"beep--"
Communication was cut off. A monotonous, silent echo reverberated in the conference room.
Satsuki stood up.
Only now did she smile.
His laughter was devoid of warmth, yet filled with boundless joy.
She walked to the huge electronic screen at the very front of the secret room. The screen did not display any complicated candlestick charts, but only a very simple line of code and the market index representing [38,250 points].
She stretched out her slender fingers and gently traced the cold glass surface of the screen with her fingertips.
"How arrogant!"
Satsuki's voice was very soft.
"This moment of glory was built upon the burning of the nation's destiny for decades to come."
She raised her head and looked up at the towering number.
"How beautiful! Like fireworks rising into the sky."
"So dazzling, yet so fleeting."
Her fingertips slid slowly down the cold glass of the screen.
"Then, they all turned to ashes and fell down."
Satsuki turned around, her back to the huge screen that was flashing with fluorescent light. The cold, eerie blue light shone on her profile, making her expression look particularly strange.
"Father. Executive Director Endo."
"The net has been completely closed. Now, we only need to do one thing."
Satsuki looked at the two people sitting at the long table.
"wait."
"Wait for the music to stop, wait for the lights to go out."
"Waiting...for utter ruin."
……
It was exactly 3 p.m.
Tokyo Stock Exchange.
The heavy wooden mallet struck the ceremonial bell, producing an extremely ethereal and long echo.
The closing bell rang.
After one last frantic gear engagement, the massive mechanical flip card was firmly stuck at a brand new mark.
The thick, black lead type appeared incredibly arrogant under the glaring spotlight.
[38, 420.50 points]
The revelry continues.