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CH459 | GSI
🕑 Added 2025-09-07 16:26:24 +0000 UTCEast Hampton, Long Island, New York.
Even in this area, long renowned as an affluent enclave, stood the mansion of George Soros, a Wall Street titan.
A private beach, shielded from prying eyes, stretched directly in front of the property, while tall, densely planted trees formed a natural barrier around the estate.
Adjacent to the mansion was not only a private golf hole but also a luxurious 115-foot yacht moored nearby, ready for fishing trips at a moment’s notice.
Soros primarily lived in his Westchester County residence, but during the sweltering summer months, he would retreat to this East Hampton estate for several months at a time.
Inside the living room, the two men sat on a sofa overlooking the foaming waves rolling onto the shore. George Soros, head of the Quantum Fund, and Rodney, the CIO, faced each other.
The thick aroma of cigars filled the air, and on the wooden table in front of them, crystal glasses held golden whiskey with ice.
Unlike Rodney, who was dressed in a suit, Soros wore casual attire, a thick cigar pinched between his fingers as he spoke.
“Even after receiving a fresh capital infusion exceeding three billion dollars and a reduction in interest rates, LTCM still posted over fifty million dollars in additional losses in the past few days,” Soros remarked.
Rodney crossed one leg and shrugged. “That’s only because we sold all the Russian government and corporate bonds to the Eldorado Fund. Without that, the losses would have been far worse.”
“Right. I heard that the Eldorado Fund snapped up LTCM’s $23 billion in Russian bonds at a bargain,” Soros continued.
“Yes. And because Wiseman rejected Berkshire Hathaway’s acquisition offer and instead accepted the bank consortium’s investment, Chairman Phillips, who was ready to devour LTCM whole, was left empty-handed.”
“Overreaching greed backfired on him. I also heard he teamed up with AIG and Goldman Sachs to pull off a maneuver?”
“That’s what I heard too. In doing so, he secretly straddled both sides while participating in the bank consortium led by the New York Fed, which has drawn criticism of Saluci, Goldman Sachs’ chairman.”
“Fair play belongs on the playing field. On Wall Street, it seems some people forget that the highest form of justice is making money by any means necessary,” Soros scoffed.
Leaning back into the plush sofa, he inhaled deeply from his cigar, exhaled slowly, and turned to look at Rodney seated to his left.
“Before this whole mess erupted, I heard the Eldorado Fund had taken substantial short positions in both stocks and bonds.”
Rodney, catching George Soros’s gaze, nodded slightly in acknowledgment.
“Yes. They built positions exceeding a hundred billion dollars—not only in the U.S. market but also across the Nikkei, European equities, and even South American bonds. It was astonishing. I never imagined a situation like this would occur.”
“So that means they had anticipated all of this in advance.”
“Undoubtedly. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have made such massive bets.”
“Are they still maintaining those positions?”
Rodney shook his head at Soros’s question.
“No. After the market plunged sharply, disappointed that the Fed’s interest rate cut was smaller than expected, they began rapidly liquidating the bond positions they held.”
Soros let out a low, impressed sigh.
“They’re clearing out preemptively, anticipating that the Fed, surprised by the market’s unexpected reaction, will scramble to roll out additional measures.”
“They’ve already made more than enough profit. There was no reason to take further risks.”
“Exactly. In that case, the winner of this crisis is clearly the Eldorado Fund.”
Soros concluded matter-of-factly, as if no further discussion were needed.
“The foresight to stay a step ahead of everyone else, and the audacity to bet over a hundred billion dollars in a single move… the more I learn about him, the more he amazes me.”
Praising Seok-won, George Soros wore a genuine expression of regret.
“If only I had brought him into the fund when I first met him, I could have trusted him completely and groomed him as my successor. What a loss… truly regrettable.”
“……”
Rodney had always believed that he alone was destined to succeed George Soros and take over the Quantum Fund.
So, when Soros refused to grant him full authority and instead kept control behind the scenes, relegating Rodney to act as little more than a puppet handling day-to-day operations, he had felt a sharp pang of disappointment and doubt. Yet he had endured, quietly performing his duties with steadfast diligence.
Not only that, but he had taken pride in the accomplishments he had achieved—successes he believed Soros could not ignore.
Yet once again, just as before, Soros openly admired Seok-won right in front of him, leaving Rodney sidelined.
To make matters worse, Soros lamented that he hadn’t been able to recruit Seok-won into the fund, inflicting a deep wound on Rodney’s pride.
“If only that guy, Park Seok-won, had worked with us, the Quantum Fund would be far larger than it is now,” Soros said.
Whether he realized it or not, Soros continued praising Seok-won’s talents while expressing genuine regret that he hadn’t been able to bring him onto the team.
“……”
Rodney’s gaze sank, and he remained silent, lips pressed tightly together.
When Soros noticed the lack of response and looked at him again, it was clear Rodney’s mood had hit rock bottom.
“Ahem…”
At last, Soros realized his misstep, clearing his throat awkwardly.
“You’ve done well too. By sensing the risk and withdrawing from Russian and other emerging market bonds early, you managed to sidestep this crash. Otherwise, you would have taken a significant hit.”
But even these words felt to Rodney like a rebuke, a comparison to Seok-won’s uncanny ability to seize opportunities and reap immense profits while he, Rodney, had achieved comparatively little. Instead of feeling reassured, he swallowed his bitterness silently.
As the tension lingered, Soros took a sip of whiskey, set the glass down, and naturally shifted the topic.
“Oh, and about the investment proposal you submitted last time.”
“Yes.”
“It’s a rather original plan, but the market is fluid depending on the Fed’s future actions. Let’s put it on hold.”
Though Soros’s words sounded polite, “on hold” was effectively a rejection.
Rodney’s face hardened at the dismissal of a plan he had submitted with full confidence.
“This is the perfect opportunity to buy at the bottom, while fear has driven prices down,” he argued.
“It’s not necessarily a bargain. It could simply be a correction, with prices returning to normal after the previous bubble,” Soros countered.
“That’s not the case. As shown in the data attached to my proposal, while the P/E ratios appear high now, I am confident that the growth potential of the internet market far exceeds them. Over time, the P/E will drop rapidly.”
Rodney leaned forward, trying once again to persuade George Soros, but Soros remained indifferent.
“I agree that the internet is a promising business. But I can’t justify applying such a P/E ratio when it hasn’t turned a profit yet and continues to post losses,” Soros said firmly.
Rodney, who had been about to argue further, stopped mid-thought as Soros turned his head sharply to the side, as if signaling him to say no more. Swallowing the words lodged in his throat, Rodney finally conceded.
“……Understood.”
Though he had wrestled with this internally for some time, Rodney now fully realized that he and Soros were not compatible—quite unlike what he had initially hoped.
Letting go of his desperate desire to gain recognition from the Wall Street titan he had long respected, Rodney felt a sense of relief for the first time.
‘I’ve wasted a lot of precious time,’ he thought bitterly, feeling a mix of emptiness and liberation.
Soros, noticing the subtle shift in Rodney’s expression, said nothing and simply placed a thick cigar back in his mouth, dismissing it as unimportant.
***
Sheremetyevo International Airport, Russia.
A Gulfstream IV business jet, painted in Norton Blue and Crystal White two-tone, slowly descended toward the runway 29 kilometers northwest of central Moscow.
It was Seok-won’s private jet, arriving after a long flight across the vast expanse of Siberia.
As the wheels extended from under the wings and made contact with the runway, the plane gently touched down, completing a smooth landing.
Seok-won, seated comfortably with his seatbelt fastened, turned his head to gaze through the rounded windscreen at the airport scenery.
As the second-largest airport among Moscow’s five major airports, the terminal building in the distance was large and imposing.
Yet a closer look revealed signs of neglect—a weathered exterior and faded paint, reflecting the difficult economic situation that had led Russia to declare a moratorium.
Next to the building, two Ilyushin IL-96-300 passenger jets, emblazoned with the Aeroflot logo, stood idle as if abandoned.
For some reason, the entire airport exuded a dull, gloomy atmosphere.
Following the jetway marked with dark streaks of spilled jet fuel from previous flights, Seok-won’s jet taxied to a parking area slightly away from the terminal.
Bella, who had been seated in the cabin, stood first to check the status and approached Seok-won.
“You’ve landed safely. You may now unfasten your seatbelt,” she said.
Leaning back in his seat as he observed the view outside, Seok-won unbuckled his belt and rose.
Though it had been a long flight, traveling on a private jet had spared him the usual fatigue.
As Han Ji-sung and the bodyguard, Baucus, finished preparing to disembark behind him, Seok-won moved with them toward the exit.
Bella, standing at the aircraft door, greeted him with a bright smile as he stepped forward.
“Was your flight comfortable?”
“Yes. Please tell the captain it was perfect. And also thank him in advance for the return flight.”
“Certainly. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to hear that.”
Seok-won gave a small nod and stepped forward.
Outside, a cool breeze swept past, ruffling his hair as he walked.
As he descended the stairs, he noticed two black Mercedes sedans parked side by side.
At that moment, a tall, angular-faced man in a suit, appearing to be in his early thirties, approached and gave a formal nod.
“Welcome to Moscow.”
The man’s name was Viktor Pavlovich. A former KGB agent, he had been newly hired as the Eldorado Fund’s Moscow branch director to ensure smooth business operations in Russia.
Since this was their first face-to-face meeting, Seok-won extended one hand and spoke in fluent English.
“Pleasure to meet you. We have a lot of work ahead, so let’s do our best.”
“I’ll do my utmost while serving you,” Pavlovich replied, lightly shaking Seok-won’s hand and flashing a white-toothed smile.
He then lifted one arm to indicate the car parked behind him.
“Shall we?”
Seok-won nodded and climbed into the back seat through the door opened by a sturdy-looking driver.
Moments later, the two Mercedes sedans carrying the party departed the tarmac in tandem and merged onto a wide highway, heading straight toward central Moscow.
