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CH315 | GSI
🕑 Added 2025-04-16 02:40:06 +0000 UTC“…So I think I’ll have to stay in the U.S. a bit longer. I’m sorry.”
Choi Ho-geun spoke into the receiver as he returned to his room at the Plaza Hotel after work. On the other end, his wife responded with a slightly disappointed tone.
[Well, if it’s for work, I guess there’s no helping it. That means you won’t be home for Seollal (Lunar New Year) either, right?]
“That’s probably how it’ll be.”
[Alright. Then I’ll take the kids and visit your parents on my own.]
“Wouldn’t that be tough, going all the way to Daegu?”
[Still, what can I do? Both your father and mother are probably really looking forward to seeing the kids. I have to go.]
“I’ll make sure to come back by next month. Just hang in there until then, okay?”
[Alright.]
She sighed deeply on the other end.
“The kids are doing okay, right?”
[They’re doing so well it’s almost a problem. You just make sure to take care of yourself over there and come back safe and sound.]
That tugged at his heart—how she was the only one truly worried about his well-being.
“Haha, got it.”
[International calls are expensive. Let’s hang up now.]
“Yeah.”
As Choi Ho-geun gently set the receiver down, a faint look of regret crossed his face.
At first, being away from family and enjoying some freedom had been thrilling. But not even a month had passed before he found himself missing his wife’s nagging more than anything. His longing for family had grown stronger by the day.
“So this is why people say, ‘There’s no place like home.’”
Clicking his tongue, Choi took off his suit and changed into something more comfortable before heading next door to Jung Hwan-yeop’s room.
There, he found everyone already gathered—Hong Jae-hee and Yoo Seok-hyun included—surrounded by pizza boxes and beer, already in the middle of a lively get-together.
“Manager! What took you so long on the phone? We were starving over here!”
With his shirt unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up, Jung Hwan-yeop raised his voice as soon as he spotted Choi Ho-geun.
His tie was nowhere to be found, as if he’d flung it into oblivion, prompting Choi to give him a look of disbelief as he settled into an empty seat.
“You’re one to talk with that slice of pizza in your hand.”
“Oops! How did this end up in my hand?”
Jung laughed sheepishly and played dumb.
“Geez. You’re hopeless.”
Choi shook his head in mock dismay, and Yoo Seok-hyun, quick on the uptake, cracked open a fresh can of beer and placed it in front of him.
“Here you go, sir.”
“Thanks.”
Choi picked up the cold can, gesturing toward Jung Hwan-yeop with his finger.
“Don’t ever end up like that guy. Got it?”
“Haha…”
Yoo Seok-hyun gave an awkward laugh in response, and Choi Ho-geun downed a big gulp of the beer.
“Ahh…”
The refreshing beer gliding down his throat washed away the fatigue of the day, prompting a natural sigh of satisfaction from Choi Ho-geun.
Just then, while chewing a mouthful of pizza, Jung Hwan-yeop suddenly spoke up as if remembering something.
“Oh, right. Manager, did you hear the news about Hanbo Group?”
“You mean the bankruptcies of Hanbo Pharmaceutical and Hanbo Energy?”
“Yeah. And I heard Hanbo Construction might go under any day now too.”
“The subsidiaries have been toppling one after another ever since the steel division collapsed. There's no way the construction arm can hold out.”
Choi replied bitterly, picking up a slice of pizza loaded with pepperoni.
Concerned, Yoo Seok-hyun looked at the two of them and said:
“If that happens, Hanbo Construction will have gone bankrupt twice in just one year.”
Ranked 47th among construction firms by contract size, Hanbo Construction had gone bankrupt in April the previous year. It was then acquired in June by Hanbo Group and had specialized in civil engineering and plant construction.
Now, facing another crisis less than a year after its acquisition, one could only imagine the despair of its employees.
“It’s not just Hanbo Construction. Subsidiaries, subcontractors—so many people are going to lose their jobs. Just thinking about it is awful.”
“They’re all probably breadwinners with families. It’s heartbreaking,” Hong Jae-hee added, his expression darkening.
“Yeah…”
Thinking about the heads of households who had suddenly become unemployed, Choi Ho-geun felt a heavy weight on his chest.
The atmosphere grew somber, so Hong Jae-hee forced a smile and changed the subject.
“Anyway! Since Mr. Mason won’t be around tomorrow, we’ve got the day off. What’s everyone planning to do?”
Choi Ho-geun emptied his beer can and responded:
“Hmm, I might take the chance to head over to Macy’s nearby. Get something for my daughter and son.”
“Oh, come on, you can’t forget something for your wife too!”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Choi scanned the group and pointed at the one who looked the most idle.
“If you’ve got nothing going on, come to the department store with me.”
At that, Jung Hwan-yeop grabbed a new slice of pizza and widened his eyes.
“I’ve got plans.”
“Huh? What plans?”
None of the four had any friends in New York, let alone people they knew. Curious, Choi pressed him.
Jung answered with a string of cheese stretching from his pizza to his mouth:
“I’m going on a date.”
“!”
Choi Ho-geun wasn’t the only one who froze in shock—Hong Jae-hee and Yoo Seok-hyun also looked at him wide-eyed.
“A date? You mean… like, with an actual woman?”
“Yes.”
At Jung Hwan-yeop’s calm nod, Hong Jae-hee’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.
“Oh my! who are you going on a date with? Is it someone I know?”
Even Yoo Seok-hyun, though silent, had a look of eager curiosity.
“You’re not just making this up because you don’t want to go shopping with me, are you?”
Manager Choi Ho-geun eyed him skeptically, prompting Jung to scoff.
“Come on, do I look like the type who lies about this stuff? I’m serious. I’m meeting Bella tomorrow afternoon.”
“Bella?”
Choi wracked his memory at the familiar-sounding name, then his eyes widened.
“Wait… you don’t mean the Bella? The stewardess from the CEO’s private jet?”
“That’s the one.”
“Oh my god!”
“Are you serious?”
Everyone stared at him in disbelief.
“What’s with those looks?” Jung frowned, clearly annoyed.
“Dude! Can you blame us? Be honest—have you been stalking her this whole time, begging for just one date? You know that’s illegal, right? The CEO would flip out!”
“I’m not a stalker, jeez.” Jung took a defensive half-step back.
“I just asked her out like a man.”
“You sure you didn’t just wear her down until she gave in?”
Choi narrowed his eyes.
“That’s not okay, Section Chief,” Yoo and Hong chimed in, frowning.
“Ugh, come on. That’s not how it happened,” Jung protested, smugly lifting his chin.
“What can I say? I’ve got that irresistible masculine pheromone thing going on. Bella couldn’t help but fall for my charm.”
“Oh, please.”
Choi almost hurled his beer can at him but restrained himself at the last second.
“Is he really going on a date?” Hong whispered behind his hand.
“Sorry to say this, but it’s kind of hard to believe...” Yoo added, eyeing Jung suspiciously.
All three tried to imagine pizza-devouring Jung Hwan-yeop with the elegant, slim, blonde beauty Bella, but it was just impossible to picture.
“It’s like Beauty and the Beast,” Choi muttered, still unconvinced.
“More like Beauty and the Bum. At least the Beast was a prince. Section Chief Jung is just…”
“I’m shocked and jealous at the same time. A date with Bella,” Yoo murmured before quickly clamping his mouth shut, realizing what he’d said.
“Oh really? You’re jealous, huh?” Jung said with a smirk.
“J-Jae-hee, that’s not what I meant…”
“Hmph.”
As Hong Jae-hee turned her head sharply away, Yoo Seok-hyun wore a crestfallen expression.
One guy was grinning like a fool over his date, and now the other two were in a lovers’ quarrel. Caught between the two, Manager Choi Ho-geun just felt a cold breeze of loneliness drift through his side.
“Man… I miss my wife…”
* * *
February 13, 1997 — Thursday,
Bangkok, Thailand.
Piyaphong, a foreign exchange officer at the Bank of Thailand (BOT), left home early again today in his usual Toyota, a Japanese import.
Though Bangkok was infamous for its traffic jams, early morning wasn’t too bad for driving.
The sky was thick with smog as the sun slowly crept up. Watching the hazy light break through the clouds from the car window, Piyaphong’s vehicle made its way into the city.
After parking in the basement of the central bank building, he stepped out with his briefcase in hand and took the elevator to the office on the 4th floor.
Passing by a cleaning lady in the hallway, he entered the wide office space, which was filled with desks but completely empty at this hour.
Click.
He flipped the switch, and the fluorescent lights on the ceiling flickered a few times before finally brightening the room.
Walking to his desk at the far end, Piyaphong set his briefcase down on the chair—only to notice a sticky note stuck to his computer monitor. He peeled it off and read it.
Goldman Sachs downgraded Thailand to the bottom of 25 developing countries. Check for possible negative impact on exchange rates.
Piyaphong frowned, crumpled the note, and tossed it into the trash under his desk.
“Bad news every day lately…”
With a sigh, he powered on his computer and made his way to the fax machine in the corner of the office.
He scanned through the overnight faxes, checking what had transpired in the London and New York financial markets, and poured himself a strong cup of coffee using the electric kettle.
Holding the fax papers in one hand and the mug in the other, he returned to his desk, took a seat, and began to sketch out a rough forecast of the day’s currency trends.
Soon, other employees began trickling into the office, and the space grew busier with the usual morning bustle. Piyaphong glanced at the watch on his wrist, then picked up the phone and called a trader he knew at the Tokyo foreign exchange market.
“It’s me, Piyaphong.”
Having studied abroad, he spoke fluent English with ease.
“How are things looking in Tokyo?”
“Not much to say, except the yen keeps slipping little by little.”
Still holding the receiver to his ear, Piyaphong checked the dollar-yen chart on his monitor and clicked his tongue.
Just two years ago, the yen had surged to 80 per dollar, but now it had slumped dramatically to 120.
Since Thailand was operating under a fixed exchange rate regime to attract dollar inflows, the weakening yen was hitting them hard.
Japanese goods, cheaper due to the weak yen, were flooding the Thai market, while Thai exports were losing competitiveness and plummeting.
This was causing Thailand’s already growing current account deficit to balloon even further.
“How far is the Bank of Japan planning to let the yen drop?”
Piyaphong grumbled.
“No idea. But with other countries watching closely, I doubt they’ll let it slide to 130.”
"So you're saying it'll stay around 120 yen for a while."
“That's likely. The Japanese government has set that direction, and the U.S. seems to be tolerating it too.”
Piyaphong nodded in agreement—he had been thinking along the same lines.
"Let me know right away if anything unusual comes up."
“Will do.”
Ending the call, Piyaphong set down the receiver and stared at the USD/JPY chart on his monitor, a deep crease forming between his brows.
"At this rate, it’s going to be hard to reduce the current account deficit anytime soon."
A continuing current account deficit meant more dollars flowing out of Thailand than coming in. For someone in charge of managing exchange rates, that was definitely a red flag.
"Foreign banks have already started pulling their investments… Things are getting shaky. I just hope nothing serious happens."
Unlike his superiors, who still seemed to be optimistic and dismissed concerns about the sluggish economy, Piyaphong couldn’t shake the unease that had been building since the start of the year, especially as he watched foreign investors steadily withdraw from Thai markets.
He suddenly recalled the sticky note he’d found on his monitor earlier that morning.
The fact that Goldman Sachs—a major player on Wall Street—had downgraded its outlook on Thailand’s economy, effectively signaling a sell-off, only made his gut feeling worse.
"Ugh, whatever. I need to focus on work."
Grabbing his mug, Piyaphong took a sip of coffee and, noticing it was almost market open time, moved his mouse to pull up the Thai baht exchange rate chart.
Despite the country's adherence to a fixed exchange rate system, the rate—averaging 24.97 baht per U.S. dollar last year—had been fluctuating around 26 due to the worsening current account deficit and economic downturn.
Leaning back in his chair, Piyaphong kept an eye on the chart as he drank his coffee. Then, suddenly, he saw a flood of sell orders for the baht and his eyes widened in shock.
"What the…?!"
Snapping upright in his chair, Piyaphong’s face turned pale as he watched the avalanche of baht sell-offs grow larger by the second.
