Thirty-One Billion Dollars
Late September 2008.
A five-star hotel in Manhattan, New York.
It was the day of the annual gathering of KWFA, the association of Koreans working on Wall Street.
"……"
Danny Kim paused for a moment at the entrance to the banquet hall.
The same venue as a year ago.
Back then, laughter had spilled out through the doors before he'd even opened them. Not this time.
From beyond the door came nothing but sigh-laced voices.
"This is like a funeral, honestly."
He opened the door and stepped inside. The scene within the banquet hall unfolded before his eyes.
A year ago, over two hundred people had packed the room. Now there weren't even half that many.
The faces of those clustered in small groups were just as dark.
"Where'd you apply?"
"Sending out résumés everywhere. Nobody's calling back."
"Same. I put in at Citi and GS — got rejected at the screening stage."
Snatches of conversation drifted from every corner; whatever party atmosphere there might have been was long gone.
Since the collapse of Lehman Brothers, a wave of mass layoffs had been sweeping Wall Street.
Layoff.
The mass dismissal of employees due to recession or restructuring — in Korean terms, something close to what they called Layoffs.
Lehman Brothers, 26,000. Merrill Lynch, 10,000. Citigroup, 50,000.
Wall Street's elite had been dumped onto the street overnight.
A good number of the people gathered here today were in the same boat — the jobless, showing up in hopes of scraping together whatever connections they could.
"Hey, look — it's Danny Kim."
"Didn't he make a fortune this time?"
"He shorted Lehman. And Bear Stearns too."
"No way. Seriously?"
As Danny walked in, eyes turned toward him.
He caught the whispers. Rumors about Danny were spreading through Wall Street fast.
Because the counterparty had been none other than GS — the world's largest investment bank.
Once the traders who'd sold Danny his CDS started talking, the rumor had traveled in a heartbeat.
'I should've skipped this.'
Danny had come to take the temperature of Wall Street, but when the stinging stares swung his way, he pretended not to notice and headed for the bar.
He'd just picked up a drink when a group of familiar faces approached.
"Yo, Danny. Long time."
A year ago, these were the guys who'd called him a short-addict at this very event.
'I don't have money to invest in your delusions.'
'Get your bragging under control, man.'
The same faces that had said those things now looked completely different.
Defeated expressions, shoulders slumped.
"……Yeah. Long time."
Danny's reply was curt, and an awkward silence followed.
One of them spoke up first.
"We were wrong back then. Honestly, we should've shorted when you told us."
"What's the point of saying that now?"
Another friend let out a long sigh.
Danny said nothing, just sipped his drink. Then he caught the people around him talking about him again.
"Hey, you guys know how much Danny made this time?"
His friends' eyes swung toward Danny.
"……How much?"
"Billions. In dollars."
Their faces froze instantly. Danny neither confirmed nor denied it.
He simply shrugged.
A moment later, one of them opened his mouth carefully.
"Danny, could you… help us out?"
"……"
"We've got nowhere to go these days. I've sent my résumé to a hundred places and not one has called back. You're running a fund now, right? Is there a spot……"
Danny studied his friends for a moment.
The faces that had sneered at him a year ago.
Now they were looking up at him with desperate eyes.
"Sorry."
Danny said slowly.
"I'm contracted to a house right now. No room to save you guys."
"A house? Where? Introduce us."
"It exists. In Seoul."
Silence fell.
"……Seoul? Korea?"
Their faces said are you kidding me.
To Wall Street's elite, Seoul was a world away — a small country in Asia, a financial backwater. They couldn't believe Danny's house was in a place like that, though the expression on his face wasn't unfamiliar to Danny. It was the same look they'd always given him.
"You'll never believe it. You never believed me before, either."
With that, Danny rose from his seat and set his half-finished drink down on the table.
"Anyway, I'm off. Gotta head to Seoul to report my returns."
And with that, he walked out of the banquet hall.
He could feel their eyes on his back.
Nothing like the looks that had mocked him a year ago.
Early October 2008.
Seoul, Gwanak-gu — the Ribbon Capital office.
The TV had been pouring out news day after day.
Seon-woo and Han Jae-yi were glued to the broadcast. The screen changed, and this time the coverage turned to the domestic market.
Han Jae-yi stopped typing on her laptop and looked up at the TV.
"We're in chaos too. The KOSPI hit 2,000 last October, and in one year it's been cut in half. And don't get me started on the exchange rate — 1,400 won? Are you kidding?"
I nodded.
"We expected it."
"We did expect it, but……"
Han Jae-yi trailed off for a moment.
"Seeing it right in front of me, it doesn't feel real. Like the world is actually collapsing."
The TV showed the unemployed gathered outside the New York Stock Exchange. People holding pickets. Faces trembling on the verge of tears.
Only last year, these had been Wall Street elites pulling down several hundred thousand dollars a year.
"Where's Danny?" Han Jae-yi asked.
"I sent someone to pick him up. He should be landing at Incheon around now and heading straight to the office."
Han Jae-yi checked her watch.
It took about two hours from Incheon Airport to here. If the flight had landed on time, he was due any minute.
"Shouldn't we at least meet him at the airport?"
"Danny said don't bother. He's coming straight here."
Just then —
Click.
The office door opened.
Along with the sound of a rolling suitcase, a familiar face appeared.
"I'm here to report."
It was Danny.
Despite the long flight, his expression was bright. No — bright wasn't quite the word. He looked proud.
"You didn't even stop by your place first?" Han Jae-yi asked.
"Obviously not."
Danny propped his suitcase against the wall.
"My mouth's been itching — like I couldn't hold it in another second. I'm not even tired right now. It's like dopamine's coursing through my whole body."
Danny flopped onto the sofa.
The jet lag should have been catching up with him, but his eyes were sparkling.
"Coffee?"
"Nah, skip it. Let's start right away."
Danny waved a hand, then looked back and forth between me and Han Jae-yi.
"Then I'll give you the final settlement."
The air in the office changed.
Han Jae-yi closed her laptop and straightened up, and I leaned back against the sofa, watching Danny.
"First, Bear Stearns."
Danny named the first target.
"Wrapped up when JP Morgan acquired them in March. Return of 900%. Put in 15 million dollars, recovered 135 million."
Han Jae-yi's eyes widened slightly.
She already knew the numbers, but hearing them again, they seemed to land anew.
"Next — Lehman Brothers."
Strength entered Danny's voice. This had been the core target of the whole project.
"Filed for bankruptcy on September 15th. The CDS price blew through the ceiling. Return of 2,100%."
2,100 percent.
Twenty-one times the principal.
I turned the number over in my mind as well.
"We reinvested the entire 135 million recovered from Bear Stearns. Total recovered amount……"
Danny paused for effect.
"2 billion, 835 million dollars."
A beat of silence swallowed the office.
Han Jae-yi stopped breathing.
"……What did you say?"
Her voice shook.
"2.8 billion dollars."
As Danny repeated it slowly, word by word, Han Jae-yi's mouth fell open — and stayed open.
Truthfully, I'd been stunned too.
I'd known Lehman would collapse — it was a future I knew — and I'd expected the CDS price to spike.
But 2,100 percent?
Honestly, I'd predicted around ten times, and even that I'd considered a spectacular result.
'I didn't see this coming.'
Still, I kept my expression flat.
I couldn't afford to look shocked too — not here, not now.
"Next, Merrill Lynch."
Danny continued evenly.
"The stock tanked when Bank of America took them over. The put options we were holding paid off. Return of 480%. Invested 20 million, recovered 96 million."
Han Jae-yi still wore a dazed expression — the face of someone who hadn't finished digesting the number she'd just heard.
"And finally, AIG."
Danny named the fourth.
"They got the government bailout, but the stock got obliterated. Down more than 95% from its peak. Return of 750%. Invested 20 million, recovered 150 million."
Danny drew a breath, then looked at me.
"Total principal: 100 million dollars."
He fell silent for a moment, glancing between me and Han Jae-yi.
"Final recovered amount."
Danny put weight into his voice, slowly.
"3.1 billion dollars."
The number rang through the office.
3.1 billion dollars.
Thirty-one times the principal.
Han Jae-yi's face went white. Beyond astonishment, she simply looked hollowed out.
"3.1 billion……"
she murmured, tracing invisible figures in the air with her fingers, calculating.
"At 1,400 won to the dollar, that's……"
When the math was done, her eyes went round as saucers.
"4 trillion? Over 4 trillion won?"
Danny nodded.
"Around 4.3 trillion."
Han Jae-yi grabbed her head with both hands.
"Insane."
Her voice trembled.
"This is actually insane. How is this even possible?"
She shot up from her seat and paced the office. Then she sat back down — and shot up again.
"Four trillion. Four trillion. We made four trillion?"
She looked at me, then back at Danny, disbelief written across her face.
"We actually did it? Really?"
Danny smiled and nodded.
"Really. I settled the accounts myself."
A smile spread across Han Jae-yi's face. Her eyes grew wet.
It was impossible to tell whether she was laughing or crying.
"Two years. For two years……"
She couldn't finish the sentence.
The nights and days turned upside down. The anxiety that had come knocking every time the market moved. The fear that maybe we'd been wrong all along.
All of it had to feel repaid, in this one moment.
I watched her.
Honestly, I was stunned too.
Thirty-one times.
I'd expected ten, and even that would have counted as a runaway success. I'd known Lehman would blow up, but no one can predict the exact return.
'Four trillion won.'
In my previous life, I had never held money like this either.
Granted, Sunjin Group's total assets dwarfed it — but that had never been my money.
This four trillion was entirely mine. And I let none of it show on my face.
"Good work, Danny."
I said it calmly, evenly.
Danny just stared at me, his look saying: you made over four trillion won and you can be this composed?
The expression of a man looking at a strange creature.
A familiar gaze, that.
Once Han Jae-yi's excitement had settled a little, Danny spoke up.
"So."
He looked me dead in the eye.
"What now?"
I studied Danny for a moment, then answered slowly.
"Ribbon Capital goes back to what it was always meant to be."
"Which is?"
"We build it into a proper investment firm. Korea under Jae-yi, America under you."
Danny's eyes flickered, just barely. He thought for a moment, then asked carefully.
"You're saying you want to keep using me?"
"Were you planning to leave?"
Danny shrugged.
"No, I figured I was a one-shot mercenary. Short the market, collect the money, done."
"Not a chance."
Danny studied me for a beat, then smirked.
"Alright. We ride together, then."
He nodded.
"So what's the direction from here? Where does this money go?"
"The macro picture is about to get very messy. America is going to flood the system with money to resuscitate this economy."
The age of quantitative easing.
That was the word that would define the era ahead. The Fed and the federal government would step in and pump staggering sums directly into the capital markets — so much that people would start talking about dropping money from helicopters.
"And when that happens, the real economy and the capital markets split apart. The classic distortion: the real economy's flat on the floor, prices are climbing, and stocks keep rising anyway."
"So a weak dollar's coming."
"Exactly. When America floods the market and drives the dollar down, emerging-market currencies — Brazil, Korea — spike in relative value."
I looked between the two of them and went on.
"And you think the emerging markets will just sit there? While their exporters bleed out? A mud fight breaks out — everyone printing money to cheapen their own currency. America going, 'you only care about saving yourselves while you kill us.'"
Han Jae-yi cut in.
"You're saying a currency war breaks out."
"Yes. And holding cash through all of it is the same as turning your money into garbage. Every country on earth is running the printing presses — sit on cash and it just melts."
I kept going, looking at them both.
"China announced a stimulus package recently. Four trillion yuan. Over 700 trillion won. They've started flooding money too."
"Commodity countries will ride that wave. China starts building infrastructure and raw-material demand explodes."
"Right. Australia, Brazil, Russia — they'll hop on China's rebound and recover fast."
"……"
"Europe, on the other hand, is chained to the euro and can't print freely. They'll struggle. Watching Germany's every move, unable to do QE, tightening austerity while the recession drags on and on."
Before I came back, Europe had fallen into the eurozone sovereign debt crisis in exactly this period.
The southern European countries with rotten public finances — Portugal, Italy, Greece, Spain, the ones they called the PIGS — would be driven to the edge of default.
From here on, the stock market would convulse every time one of them blew up.
"The whole world is splitting off onto its own path now."
I looked at the two of them.
"The countries that can print money survive. The ones that can't fall behind. That's the era that's coming."
"……"
"And in this age of violent change, we're going to make money — and turn it into power."
Four trillion won was a fortune — and at the same time, a sum that could do almost nothing on its own.
As the private citizen Kang Seon-woo, I could never have spent it all in a lifetime. But as the master of Sunjin Group — the man who had to hold off his relatives' attacks and raise Sunjin into the greatest company in the world — it was still not enough.
"Because next time something like this happens, we need to be the ones who can change the situation."
That was what I'd said to Danny at that banquet hall in New York a year ago.
Back then it had been a vague resolve. Not anymore.
Now we had live ammunition worth over four trillion won.
"So that speech of yours was serious."
"Of course it was. I don't lie."
"Good. Then I'll keep grinding beside you from here on out."
When Danny said that, I turned to Han Jae-yi.
"Why are you looking at me? I'm the loyalist here — I swore my allegiance to Seon-woo before Danny ever did."
"Who cares who was first? What matters is who's useful."
"Excuse me?"
Danny and Han Jae-yi started bickering, and I watched them with a smile and got to my feet.
"Enough, both of you — up. Danny, it's been a while since you were in Korea. Dinner's on me."
When I stepped out first, the two still squabbling followed behind me.