August 14.
Billy sipped his coffee as he received detailed updates from everyone about Raimon's operations. Indonesia had fallen, struck by a heavy blow that shattered any hope the business elite may have had. The crisis had started with just a 30% short position, but it handed Raimon a solid profit. They took positions and waited for value drops projected for December. The damage, however, was already done—July had already taken down Malaysia and the Philippines, comparing their stock markets directly against the dollar.
In recent years, Indonesia has shown high economic growth rates, between 7 and 8% annually, heavily dependent on foreign credit, private dollar-denominated debt that created a lack of foresight, cross-loans between companies and sectors, all based on paper and banks. This system worked as long as the rupiah, the official currency, remained stable.
–Julian Robertson's wife is a real iron-fist ruler. She's one of the smartest women I know. Don't doubt that she's fully aware of this crisis and all the ways to profit from it, especially now that we're dealing with time-sensitive classified information,– Raimon remarked.
Billy had a face-to-face meeting scheduled with Gwen, who was eager to know where this information was coming from. One thing was certain—Billy's intel confirmed that Indonesia had spent close to $20 billion in reserves trying to defend the exchange rate. Yet, by August 14, the previous rate of 2,400 rupiah per dollar had already fallen to 3,000 by September—a 30% drop not just in currency value but also in the stock market. Foreign investors were pulling out en masse in an orderly exodus.
Billy knew from reliable sources that by November 1997, the government would nationalize 16 private banks due to a full-scale private banking collapse. Even though an agreement was reached with the IMF on October 30, by January to March, the rupiah had crashed to 16,000 per dollar, losing 85% of its value. Billy had requested loans in those countries, converted them to dollars, and waited for the crash. The profits were beyond expectations.
Deficits were everywhere. With repeated short positions in Thailand, Malaysia, and now Indonesia, they had earned the right to multiply their capital several times over, hitting economies on the verge of implosion.
–Then I'll be waiting,– said Billy, now much more familiar with the legal and operational processes. All he wanted was to buy the Lamborghini brand while acquiring stakes in steel companies, forming a partnership with a resilient firm. Despite facing a crisis, with a capital injection, the company repositioned itself in the market. That company was Toyota, and if he acquired Toyota over the next four years with focus, he'd see at least a 170% EBIT growth due to the brand's exponential expansion.
–It might benefit everyone if I shared certain pieces of information,– Billy added, though he didn't want to appear foolish. He'd have to come up with a believable story to get Gwen off his back. Sometimes, pretending things were fine was enough.
–Ten more reps in that set,– his trainer demanded from the side, pushing for focus.
–On it,– Billy replied, now practicing judo with intensity, determined to master every fundamental scenario of the fight. His chest rose; his physique had taken a sharper form, with growing muscles stretching over a well-conditioned frame.
–On another note, our credit rating is premium. Our expenses on interest payments over the next few years will likely decrease. If we make the principal contributions as agreed, we'll finish paying off the 500 million in just 26 months, Raimon explained.
–Good. I hope you finalize the Lamborghini deal in the coming months. I've got a solid idea for what's next,– Billy replied, thinking about potential sales strategies. Just analyzing the core of the auto industry would give him enough data to build a smart, forward-looking plan.
…
Later that day, after some time, he stood in a long line to breathe life into the comic Eyeshield 21. He spent hours recreating the story of a boy trained to be a runner by a childhood friend—fast, agile, and capable of overcoming any obstacle.
The boy was nervous by nature, with a protective friend who nudged him into joining the American football team. Under pressure but drawn by a sense of belonging, he finally found a place where he was appreciated and valued. They built a team that could become champions—a future that looked truly promising.
Driven by the spirit of sportsmanship, Billy poured every bit of effort into creating at least fifty different team characters in his notebook. Each one had unique traits—endless talent, unlikely rookies capable of miracles thanks to their physical skills, and others who were tactical masterminds. Quarterbacks who could throw laser-accurate passes or possessed special abilities borrowed from other manga, like "hawk vision" for reading the field and spatial awareness. Some had acrobatics, others pure technical finesse. Billy doubled down, inventing trainers and personal backstories, each crafted to make the characters feel real. Every one of them had an emotional impact on the story. And as he illustrated, people got drawn in, compelled by the world he was shaping.
–A story…– he whispered.
It needed polish. Drawing the faces of older Americans was tricky—similar yet distinct. Adjusting their eyes, brows, and expressions was an art formin itself.
He stretched out, completely worn out, but happy. Chapter 10 was officially finished. Naruto had just reached Chapter 55, hitting an exciting point in the storyline—the preliminary Chunin exams.
Fullmetal Alchemist was already on Chapter 80. Its writing was straightforward, though the plot held a few mysteries to fine-tune. But with a few tweaks here and there, it all came together beautifully.
Watching the sun nearly set, he realized he still had another 90-minute workout to do—full combat training to boost his physical condition.
A solid plan. A worthwhile effort. As he stretched again, his body was evolving—muscles forming in new areas, shedding lingering fat. His face, though, had never looked youthful. Sharp and chiseled, thanks to his father's genetics. With a beard, he looked at least five years older.
Gazing at the stubble, he figured it was time for a trim.
...