As soon as the New York forex market opened, Quantum Fund went all in, dumping massive blocks of Hong Kong dollars like it was determined to end the battle tonight.
"Jesus! Quantum's already sold over a billion dollars' worth of Hong Kong dollars just in New York!"
"They were unloading like crazy in London, too."
"Add what they dumped in Tokyo and Hong Kong, and they've offloaded more than four billion dollars today alone."
"Holy shit!"
"Looks like they're really going for the kill this time."
The Bear Stearns forex traders exchanged quick, wide-eyed glances — and almost in unison, they grabbed their phones and hammered away at their keyboards, rushing to join the selling frenzy.
"Sold 300 at 7.87!"
"Sell 200 Hong Kong dollars at 7.87!"
"Okay, done!"
It wasn't just the Bear Stearns desk — across Wall Street, investment banks and hedge funds piled in behind Quantum, unloading Hong Kong dollars in an indiscriminate, carpet-bombing style sell-off.
With this relentless barrage of sell orders flooding the market, the Hong Kong reserve trading center — the last line of defense — was thrown into chaos.
"The rate's jumped to 7.87 per dollar!"
The panicked shout made Chief Trader Chun Lung-chan snap his head up, eyes locking on the giant market board in front of him. His face twisted in a grimace as he shot to his feet.
A curse slipped out before he could stop himself.
"Goddamn it!"
[HKD: 7.87 (▲0.02)]
The exchange rate band they had fought so desperately to protect had been blown through — crushed by an overwhelming wave of sell orders.
"Sell pressure has topped 60 billion — no, 65 billion Hong Kong dollars!"
"The rate's still climbing like it's broken loose!"
With shouts erupting from every direction, Chun's voice tore through the chaos, veins bulging in his neck.
"Throw every dollar we've got into the market! Buy up the Hong Kong dollars — now!"
At Chun Lung-chan's command, the traders sprang into action, frantically firing off buy orders as they scrambled to scoop up the flood of Hong Kong dollars dumped on the market, desperate to drag the exchange rate back down.
But no matter how much they bought, even more kept pouring in. The rate, having already broken through the band, showed no sign of easing back.
"Damn it!"
The balance that had been so tenuously maintained was now slipping — the scales tilting hard to one side. But what was really gnawing at Chun wasn't just the lopsided fight; it was the way their reserves were melting away like snow under a blowtorch the longer the battle dragged on.
An eye-watering $17 billion — an astronomical sum — had evaporated in less than three days. Now, barely over $1 billion remained.
"Can we even hold out till morning…?"
Chun muttered to himself, the doubt clear on his face.
With the way sell orders were crashing in like a dam had burst, it didn't look like they'd last until dawn — maybe not even until midnight.
"Damn it."
As he bit down hard on his lower lip, the phone on his desk blared to life, shrill and urgent.
Chun snatched up the receiver — only for Director Jo-gang's furious voice to explode through the line.
[The band's broken — why the hell haven't you forced the rate back down yet?!]
Chun hurried to respond, his words tight with strain.
"We're doing everything we can, sir, but the selling pressure is overwhelming."
[Then match them blow for blow! Flood the market right back!]
Chun clenched his fist, frustration written all over his face.
"I'd like nothing more, but we're down to just over a billion dollars in reserves."
[What? You told me earlier this afternoon there was still seven billion left. Are you saying you've burned through all of it already?!]
"That's correct."
His voice heavy with defeat, Chun's answer drew stunned silence from Jo, followed by a breathy, exasperated hiss.
[Christ almighty…]
Even as they spoke, Chun's eyes stayed glued to his monitors — watching their reserves shrink in real time as they kept buying up the dumped Hong Kong dollars.
"At this pace, we won't last another hour. We'll be completely drained."
[Hmm…]
A low, grim sound rumbled from Jo on the other end.
[I'll speak to the Minister. We'll find a way to inject more dollars into the fight. You just hold the line — do whatever it takes to keep the rate from shooting any higher until then.]
Chun didn't know if that was even possible anymore — but he couldn't say no, not now. Shoulders slumping, he gave his answer.
"…Understood, sir."
Chun Lung-chan set the receiver down and lifted his head, eyes locking onto the monitors in front of him.
The trading screens, flooded with nothing but relentless sell orders for Hong Kong dollars, looked to him like a pack of starving wild dogs — jaws snapping, fangs bared — closing in from all sides to tear both him and Hong Kong apart.
A deep sigh escaped Chun's lips as the oppressive sense of being trapped at the edge of a cliff closed in on him. The walls were collapsing, the ground crumbling beneath his feet. And there was nowhere left to run.
***
Meanwhile, deep into the night, the dealing room of Daheung Capital's trading division was in utter chaos — phones ringing nonstop, traders shouting out quotes into their handsets at the top of their lungs.
"Buy 500 contracts at 6,500!"
"What? Okay, lock it in at that price!"
"200 contracts, buy at 6,300!"
Yoo Seok-hyun, having just wrapped up another deal, slammed the receiver down and shouted out loud. Noh Hee-won, the rookie, quickly scribbled the completed trade numbers onto the whiteboard off to the side with a marker.
Having aggressively shorted Hang Seng futures earlier, Daheung Capital was now on a massive buying spree — unwinding its short positions and sending ripples through the entire market.
Other investors, who had taken long positions only to watch the Hang Seng Index get sliced in half, saw this surge in buying as their golden chance — a slim window to dump their contracts and cut their losses. They piled in with sell orders, all scrambling to unload.
The result was plain to see — the whiteboard now jam-packed with numbers from the flurry of executed trades.
With the currency band finally shattered under the hedge funds' onslaught, and the exchange rate breaking higher, panic took over. Everyone was convinced the Hong Kong government wouldn't hold out much longer — surrender was imminent. That only supercharged the frenzy, with Hang Seng futures being dumped at an even more explosive pace.
All this chaos, ironically, made things far easier for Choi Ho-geun and his team. They could offload their positions smoothly in the stampede.
Standing by his desk, sleeves rolled up and arms crossed, Choi scanned the room with sharp, wired eyes before turning to Noh Hee-won.
"How much do we have left?"
Noh quickly checked the numbers scrawled across the board and called out:
"Two hundred fifty contracts remaining!"
Knowing they were now sprinting toward the finish line, Choi fought to suppress the surge of excitement welling up inside. His gaze locked onto the large market display, eyes drilling into the Hang Seng futures index flashing on the screen.
[HIS: 6,439.11 (▼61.2)]
Despite having bought up a massive amount of futures in one go, the sell orders were so overwhelming that the futures index wasn't rising at all. If anything, it was falling even further.
This was a clear sign that the market was now leaning toward the belief that once the Hong Kong dollar was devalued, the shock would send the Hong Kong stock market crashing once again.
Just then, Jung Hwan-yeop, slammed the receiver down and shouted loudly:
"Okay! We've liquidated all the positions!"
With that, the office, which had been as noisy as a bustling marketplace, fell completely silent in an instant.
The team members, utterly drained from the frantic pace of executing so many trades in such a short period, slumped in their chairs, looking as if they were half-dead.
"Oh my…"
"I'm dying. I can't take it anymore."
"Am I still alive?"
Seeing them in that state, Choi Ho-geun, the department head, smiled contentedly and offered some encouragement:
"You all worked hard."
"Oh, I really don't have the strength to even pick up the phone anymore."
Jung Hwan-yeop whined, tilting his head back.
Normally, Choi Ho-geun would have scolded him for exaggerating, but given the amount of work they had put in today, he just smiled and let it slide.
"Yeah, you're exhausted, but make sure to sort out the trade slips and pass them on to Miss Noh. Let's finish strong."
"Yes, sir."
"Understood."
The team members answered weakly, their voices lacking energy.
"I'm so drained. How about a candy? Want one?"
"Yeah, if you're offering."
"I'll take the strawberry flavor."
Jung Hwan-yeop shook the candy jar, and Yoo Seok-hyun and Hong Jae-hee each grabbed one.
"Here, Miss Noh, you take one too. You did great today."
"Thank you."
Just as he handed a candy to Nho Hee-won, Jung Hwan-yeop felt a piercing stare and turned his head.
"Your gaze is going to burn a hole in me. Stop glaring at me."
"Are you not going to offer me any?"
"Ah, fine. I'll give you two, just for you, since you're the department head."
Choi Ho-geun gave Jung Hwan-yeop a sidelong glance, then popped a candy into his mouth.
The sweet, tangy taste was just what his tired body needed.
Jung Hwan-yeop unwrapped a candy for himself and popped it in, then spoke.
"We followed the President's orders and closed all positions, but I'm not sure if it was the right call."
"Why? Do you think we sold too early?"
"Looking at the forex market, it doesn't seem like Hong Kong can hold on much longer. That's why everyone's dumping their Hang Seng futures."
Jung Hwan-yeop shrugged and continued.
"Well, it made things easier for us, but if Hong Kong waves the white flag, the Hang Seng is going to crash hard. It feels like we might've missed out on a bit more profit."
Hong Jae-hee and Yoo Seok-hyun, who had been quietly organizing the trade slips, nodded in agreement.
Choi Ho-geun also felt a bit disappointed but didn't show it, instead encouraging his team.
"If the market goes even lower and the Hong Kong stock market drops more than expected, we've already made a solid profit, so there's no need to regret it. You know the saying, 'Buy at the knee, sell at the shoulder'? If you're too greedy, you'll run into trouble."
"You're right. The profits we've locked in are already huge."
Jung Hwan-yeop nodded in agreement.
"Exactly. Once the final numbers come in, I think we'll hit our department's highest profit ever, right?"
"The amount we bet on, there's no way we'll miss out."
Hong Jae-hee's cheerful remark was met with a knowing nod from Jung Hwan-yeop.
With a grin full of anticipation, he added, "Hehehe. We're going to get some nice bonuses."
Seeing him look like he might drool, Choi Ho-geun couldn't help but chuckle.
"You're more interested in the bonus than anything else, huh?"
"Even so, I need to make up for the loss from buying Gichang Auto stocks and getting burned. Do you know how much I lost?"
"Oh, come on. You've been in Yeouido for years; how did you end up buying a stock that had 'danger' written all over it? Don't go telling anyone you work under me, that's embarrassing."
"That's too much."
"What do you mean? You brought it upon yourself."
Jung Hwan-yeop pouted with a look of distress.
No matter how much Jung Hwan-yeop complained, Choi Ho-geun pulled out his phone from his pocket and dialed Seok-won, who would be waiting for his call.
The phone rang, and not long after, Seok-won's voice came through.
[Have you finished everything?]
"Yes. We just closed all the positions."
[Good job.]
***
Westchester County, New York.
In a room with large windows where the darkness had fully descended, George Soros sat alone at his desk, surrounded by several monitors, his face grim. He was smoking a Cuban cigar.
"Hmmm."
He muttered as he looked at the Hong Kong dollar exchange rate chart displayed on the central monitor.
[HKD: 7.85 (▼0.07)]
Despite pouring billions of dollars into the market over the past three days, they still hadn't managed to break the exchange rate band.
At that moment, as if to signal the end of the game, a large, antique grandfather clock in the corner of the room struck midnight.
Just as the clock finished chiming, the phone on the desk rang.
George Soros stared at the phone for a moment before reluctantly picking it up.
It was Huxley, the White House Chief of Staff.
[It's been three days past midnight, and Hong Kong is still holding strong.]
"..."
[Regrettably, I take it you'll be stepping back from Hong Kong as promised, correct?]
At the forceful question, a deep furrow appeared on George Soros's forehead.
But since he had promised, he responded with a grim expression, his voice heavy.
"...I'll give up."
Huxley's voice came through, satisfied.
[Good decision. I'll report this to the President.]
With no more to say, the line went dead.
After placing the phone down, George Soros fought to suppress the rising sense of humiliation, glaring at the monitor with a fierce look.
"To let the prey slip away like this... Damn."
A harsh curse escaped between his clenched teeth.
TL/n -
Since 1983, the Hong Kong dollar (HKD) has been pegged at HK$7.8 = US$1.
The Currency Board system meant the Hong Kong Monetary Authority (HKMA) could only issue HKD if it had enough USD in reserves—a system that gave investors confidence.
The HKMA had substantial foreign currency reserves, which it used to defend the peg by selling U.S. dollars and buying HKD during speculative attacks.
To make it more expensive for speculators to short the HKD, the HKMA dramatically raised interest rates, at times above 300% overnight.
This squeezed speculators by making it prohibitively expensive to maintain their short positions.
In an unprecedented move, the HKMA directly intervened in the stock market, buying about HK$118 billion (US$15 billion) worth of shares in blue-chip companies.
This was done to combat "double play" attacks, where speculators shorted both the currency and the stock market.
The HKMA communicated clearly and acted consistently, helping to reassure markets.
Unlike some Asian neighbors, Hong Kong stuck to its peg and avoided the panic of sudden devaluations.