Chapter 62
Chapter 62
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 62
Chapter Title: The Start of the 90s (4)
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To sum up everything said so far in simple terms:
Q: If Germany raises interest rates, won't the UK have to do the same and tank its economy?
A: Yeah, that's exactly what happened. To be precise, they surrendered right before it completely fell apart.
Hedge funds, drunk on dopamine and money, bet that the UK would exit the ERM... and that's how the infamous pound sterling short-selling saga began, one that'll go down in financial history forever.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Of course, the UK wouldn't drop out of the ERM right away. They'd only joined about three months earlier.
-Wait, so they joined even knowing Germany was going to hike rates?
You might wonder that, but...
The UK probably never imagined Germany would act so brazenly. Plus, national policies are prepared months in advance, so prior consultations would've already wrapped up.
In fact, true to its legacy as the once-great British Empire, the UK held out impressively for quite a while.
It's January 1991 now, and the pound short-selling kicks off around September 1992... so the Bank of England endures for another year and eight months—20 months total.
'This is the problem. Everyone knows it'll fall eventually, but pinpointing when is the real key.'
Of course, this doesn't apply to Yoo Ha-yeon, the super-genius reincarnator.
I could predict the timing almost perfectly.
"So, why'd you call me here?"
Yoo Seon-jun stared at me while munching on snacks.
"Why do you think? I told you—the UK won't hold out."
Oppa looked at me like I was insane.
"...Short-selling? The pound?"
I nodded. Knowing the future, of course I had to get on board.
"Not right now. We'll prep step by step and blow it up a year from now."
This wasn't prophecy—it was solid prediction territory, perfectly rational.
Anyone could foresee the Bank of England suffering big time. And in a year, it'd be common knowledge.
But hardly anyone thought the UK would swallow its pride and ditch the ERM. Even fewer would bet their life on it.
...Which means a few did.
One of them was the legendary George Soros.
Soros's Quantum Fund threw insane leverage at a $10 billion pound short position, went public with it, and waged currency war on the UK.
Just like America's forefathers dumped British tea into Boston Harbor centuries ago, Soros channeled that Yankee spirit and hurled the pound into the depths. Even the motive—money—was a perfect match from setup to payoff.
(Let's gloss over Soros being Hungarian. Back then, most Americans were British stock anyway.)
Anyway.
Hedge funds piled in, hungry for profits... and the total short volume hit about $110 billion.
$110 billion.
That's well over 100 trillion won—an insane amount that could shatter markets on its own. Enough to buy a couple months' wiggle room, error margins included.
With Alpha Fund's bigger scale, we could tack on another $10 billion, fine-tuning the timing perfectly.
I popped a candy into my mouth and rolled it around. Sweet syrup coated my tongue.
"Mmm, nice."
"Hey, explain properly. How're we gonna short it?"
Yoo Seon-jun shook my shoulder, eyes lit with curiosity.
Ugh, dizzy...
"Cough! Hey, you almost made me choke on this. Still planning it out, so details are fuzzy. If Germany pauses hikes, we bail..."
"Ah, got it."
"Go eat lunch, Oppa. What're you even thinking, staring at your cute little sister?"
I puffed my cheeks, pretending to be mad.
"The psycho chick who wants to make bank shaking up global finance?"
What?!
"Hey... that's too much. I'm not like that!"
"Says the one sucking Japan dry right now?"
I waved it off, denying everything, but Yoo Seon-jun's suspicious glare didn't budge.
He probably thinks I've got some diabolical scheme all mapped out.
Guy's quick on the uptake, at least...
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ 1991 held a bit of special meaning for me, too.
It was the year my past-life self was born.
While Yoo Seon-jun stepped out briefly, I memorized the towering stack of early-year documents in my head, then flipped through the newspapers.
"Miss, what're you looking at?"
"...Got curious about social contributions later on. Checking out orphanages and such."
Lee Si-hyeon stared at me like I'd lost it.
"Why?"
"Social contributions from you, Miss...? Am I getting old, ears going bad?"
"..."
Well, sure... couldn't I do a little charity for my past-life self?
Problem was, I barely remembered that life. Didn't even know the name.
'I'd recognize it if I saw it, probably...'
My memories of "me" were only what others knew—public stuff.
This was weird in itself.
My reincarnation perk wiped my private memories, replacing them with perfect recall of history's flow.
Normally, that'd delete most of "me," effectively reincarnating as a fresh Yoo Ha-yeon...
But an error cropped up.
Past-life me was too damn prominent. My personal saga was woven right into history's fabric.
The settings clashed...
I had to forget "me," yet remember "my" deeds. A bizarre paradox.
From that contradiction, a being emerged: no name or private memories, but vaguely preserving past-life personality and echoes.
...Truth be told, that's why I crave greatness, attention. Realizing even an omnipotent brush couldn't erase me.
Waves might sweep away a sandcastle, but if it's etched in history, it endures forever...
A lowly creature like me has no choice but to warp history, carve my mark worldwide—so no one forgets again.
Just like Yoo Jin-cheol's wife once dubbed "Madam" but swapped in this life for my "Nanny," I could tumble into obscurity by divine whim.
Beyond that, proper charity was a must down the line.
"Sigh... I'm not doing anything bad, right? Companies with bad reps don't last. Grandpa donates tons to universities."
"Ah, true... He sponsored a lot for lung cancer research this time, I heard."
"Ruling the society you give back to? 'Don't own—dominate.' That's the idea."
Scholarship programs and such? Feed them cash early, and things smooth out later. Why else do corps run foundations?
Future leaders repay in favors—pure profit.
"But no way to inject funds domestically right now, right?"
I nodded readily. My money's overseas; no foundation here yet.
"That's why I'm just scouting."
When I start hunting domestic firms later, my rep'll tank... So prepping contingency plans now.
Planning years ahead, then meta-planning those plans... Not even twenty, scheming past thirty.
Being the mastermind's exhausting, seriously.
What, at my level, can't I shrug off hate?
How many people like getting trashed? Not me.
I'm praise-sensitive, hyper-reactive to reactions. Especially looks.
'All those photos I've snapped.'
Scrapbook 'em all for my Yoo Ha-yeon epic. New hires get the Chairman's autobiography mandatory.
Even that might flop if rep sours. Dictators get cartooned, after all.
Twenty years on, ego-searching and finding not 'Yoo Ha-yeon pictorial body wow...' but 'lucky era-riding trash has-been hag'? I'd rage, turn bitter.
Ugh...
Just thinking twists my gut. Even past life's bigshots get memed online—gotta act.
Worship and lust? Fine. Mockery? No. Cross lines, and I'll IP-hunt 'em IRL...
Or wield undeniable power.