Chapter 112 – Tragic Tuesday

In the end, that day we stayed at a hotel as close to Wall Street as possible, where safety could be secured.
But the day didn’t end there.

As expected of the Americans, when the time comes, they act quickly.
Before leaving the market, we were summoned. 

That was why, accompanied by Tokita and Sebastian, I ended up attending a meeting of Wall Street’s leading stockbrokers and bankers.

The seats prepared for us were on the level of special guests, but at first we were met with quite a few strange looks.
After all, we were Orientals, and on top of that, we had a child with us. 

To those who knew nothing, we were nothing but fools in many senses.

However, the bosses of the hastily gathered people—the representatives of America’s kings—didn’t just remain silent, they treated us with the courtesy of sankou no rei (the honor of three visits).
Because of that, there was no one who openly scorned us as colored people or tried to drive us away. 

The guides and guards even treated us with the utmost hospitality as they escorted us.

And as Sebastian had predicted, the figure of two million dollars we had put forward in advance turned out to be considered the “fair price.”

“Princess of Ootori, we shall never forget that you declared your intention to support the market even before we gathered.”

“Thank you very much. But I believe this is only natural. We have been allowed to enjoy ourselves greatly. Furthermore, our entire family and group hope to continue doing good business with everyone in America.”

“Of course. When the time comes for business, call upon whoever you wish.”

“Yes, I look forward to that day.”

“We too look forward to it.”

With the chairman-like figure of that meeting, I exchanged such formal courtesies.
But their words were sincere. 

Americans do not forget favors given in times of crisis, regardless of race.
That is the rule and virtue of the descendants of pioneers. 

Even if they cannot act openly because of racial barriers, they will repay the debt in whatever way they can.

For me, participating in the market support was little more than a faint indulgence, a tiny amnesty.
But there was absolutely no loss in taking part.

Incidentally, the actual market support by Wall Street’s leading stockbrokers and bankers was not agreed upon for Thursday, but for the following Friday at 1 p.m.
And with the news of this joint intervention, this alliance for support, together with the furious buybacks by a legendary investor said to be almost mythical, beginning as soon as the market opened on Friday, the weekend’s market, on the surface at least, regained calm.

However, it was only on the surface.

The reason the kings of America, the investors, did not mention buybacks to me was probably because they already saw me as having completely left the game, or because they knew I had no funds that could be moved immediately, or because I was non-white, or simply because I was a foreigner, or because, since my planned purchases were already confirmed, the manufacturers had stopped me.
Most likely, it was for all of these reasons.

In this era, the word “global” did not exist anywhere, and I was nothing more than a nouveau riche gambler from the Orient.

Meanwhile, people all across America were about to spend the weekend in a frenzy.
This was because newspapers nationwide had reported massively on the stock market crash.

Since this was not the age of the internet, there was a time lag in the spread of information.

And I thought of using that time, of contacting Mr. Hearst, the newspaper king, to see if he couldn’t make the reporting a little calmer.
But then I reconsidered, thinking that surely the people in the core of America must already be moving, or had already taken proper measures.

But that turned out to be a huge mistake for me personally.
At the very least, I should have made contact once.

Because in some of the newspapers owned by Mr. Hearst, there was a rather large photo of an Oriental child in a furisode, in ethnic dress, staring blankly at the market.

Needless to say, that was me, Ootori Reiko, and it was the result of having a reporter and cameraman dispatched by Mr. Hearst accompanied me as promised after arriving in America.

Sometimes, they even filmed videos.

Up until then, I had mostly only provided trivial topics, but the oil field discovery in Texas became quite a major news story.
And it seemed that it ended up contributing to the newspaper’s sales.

I had also provided things like news of Kouryuu-sensei missing the Nobel Prize, or scenes of my butler Tokita meeting key figures in American financial circles, so naturally, on that decisive day, the reporter and cameraman were tagging along as well.
And at that time, they apparently managed to capture the single most photogenic moment.

The headline of the article with that photo blared: “Even Oriental girls were investing—Stock Market Crashes!”

When I saw it, I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly, but as I shouted in anger at everyone around me, “I’ll definitely complain about this later!”, it oddly gave me a bit of energy.

Still, the thought crossed my mind that this photo might actually end up preserved as a historical record.
I mean, seriously, I really wished they hadn’t filmed video too. 

If I grew old and some historical documentary program used that footage, I feel like I’d die of shock on the spot.

But by then, there were no reporters anymore.
Or rather, our place of stay had been shut off from them.

Besides, over the weekend there was no point in me making any further moves, so I holed up in our lodgings.
A few people came requesting meetings, but Tokita only handled them on the surface.

The only time I went outside was to a small nearby church for Sunday service.

But there was no judgment, no salvation from God, nothing at all.
I had held onto the faint hope that maybe, since reincarnation exists, there might be some kind of sign—what a letdown.

And then came Monday, October 28. 

The true tragedy began. 

But that day, I did not head to Wall Street.

Instead, I had been talking with Tokita and Sebastian since the weekend about what we should do from now on.
We had already discussed it countless times before, but I thought maybe after witnessing the tragedy, some idea might emerge.

But, as the saying goes, “A fool’s thoughts are like resting”—nothing came out of it.

Because of that, by Monday evening after the stock market closed, my heart was in turmoil, and I felt so lethargic it was as if I had depression.
I didn’t want to do anything other than lie down in the living room.

“Why on earth did it collapse so suddenly like this, I wonder?”

“If you don’t mind me just repeating what I’ve heard from others—”

Staring absentmindedly at the ceiling and half-muttering to myself, Sebastian, who had been going through various materials focusing on the latest information, spoke to me from across the table in his usual low baritone voice.
I motioned with my hand for him to go on, thinking that even small talk might help distract me.

“To put it simply, it seems the direct cause was that blue-chip stocks turned out to be surprisingly fragile.”

“Like GM? True, GM collapsed as well. Go on.”

“In margin trading, the stocks that ordinary investors buy are blue-chip stocks. From the perspective of non-professional investors, they assume blue chips won’t fall, so they can safely increase their assets.”

“A reasonable judgment.”

“Yes. However, when stocks bought on debt fall, a margin call comes in. And to meet that call, they are forced to immediately sell off the blue chips they hold.”

“In that case, I wouldn’t even want to think about the non-blue-chip stocks.”

I reflexively slapped my palm against my forehead.

“Exactly. But what happened this time was an oversized version of that.”

“After all, ten billion dollars just vanished into thin air. I can’t even imagine it.”

I really couldn’t.
That amount was equal to ten years of Japan’s national budget—more than the GNP itself. 

It even exceeded the U.S. national budget.

And if I couldn’t even imagine it, then others surely could imagine it even less.
Sebastian, who turned his gaze toward me with the same languid air, also showed about half of that expression on his face. 

This whole affair had exceeded his expectations, and it seemed to have genuinely shaken him.

I had thought he was just some overpowered character, but finding that he had surprisingly fragile spots too made me feel a little reassured, like he was more human.
As I thought that and allowed a faint smile to slip onto my lips, Sebastian, with a bead of cold sweat running down his cheek, returned a smile of his own.

Then, with forced composure, he asked,

“Will it fall further?”

“Do you really think it won’t?”

At my curt reply, spoken with an air of self-evidence, he drew a sharp breath, but he didn’t stop talking.
Maybe not speaking would only make him feel more uneasy.

“I don’t think so, but I sincerely hope it slows down.”

“Of course. But, unfortunately, it’ll keep falling. To the point where all the people on Wall Street are walking into every church nearby, offering up the same prayer. You could almost call it an early Halloween party.”

At my flat declaration, Sebastian was left speechless.
His face had gone even paler.

Still, perhaps I had been a little too cynical. That was probably just how frayed my nerves were.

So I made an excuse by saying, “I just hope the evil spirits leave quickly.”

And just as in my “prophecy,” Tuesday, October 29 brought yet another great crash.
About 14 billion dollars vanished.

From Thursday through the span of a single week, a full one-third of the market’s total value—around 30 billion dollars—was wiped out.
In 21st-century terms, that’s 225 trillion Heisei yen. 

And this was in an era when both the world’s population and the global economy were incomparably smaller than in the 21st century.

On top of that, the capitalist economic system of 1929 was far more immature and fragile compared to that of the 21st century.
While not a few scholars believed that the stock market itself wouldn’t have such a large effect on the global economy, America nonetheless began, swiftly and ruthlessly, to recall the dollars and gold it had scattered across the globe during the boom years in an effort to somehow make up for the sudden disappearance of wealth.

They did it because they believed that if they didn’t, their own economy would quite literally die.

But for every one that survived, another would be driven to ruin.
And what’s more, America hoarded the funds it retrieved, stashing them reverently in its vaults as if that alone could soothe its own fears.

It was as if they had forgotten the saying “money goes around the world.”
That kind of conduct, of course, brought even greater harm to the rest of the world.

You could even say it was this dollar recall that truly triggered the Great Depression.

Not that I have any right to say anything.
I’m not a scholar or an expert, and I hardly have any grounding in economics of the future. 

Of course, since my reincarnation I’ve studied to some extent, but all I really know from my past life are bits and pieces of the surface of the 21st-century economy.
So when it comes to the economics of this era, I can’t speak high and mighty about anything.

All I can do is move in ways that help Japan—for myself and for those around me.
That’s why I minimized the money I threw away, and why I can only struggle against the flow of history that’s about to unfold.

And in a sense, the outbreak of the Great Depression marked the shift into the next stage of my fifteen-year war with the master of this body.

At least, that’s how I see it.

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Margin trading:
Unlike stock investing where payment is exchanged each time a trade is made, only the profit or loss (the difference) generated by the transaction is settled at the time of closing.
This kind of transaction is called “settlement by differences.”

In settlement by differences, no payment is required at the time a new position is opened, but in order to be able to settle even if a loss occurs, it is necessary to deposit a certain amount of money.
This deposit is called “margin,” and a transaction using margin is called “margin trading.”

Generally, the margin required for a trade is smaller than the trade amount itself, so large transactions can be carried out with little capital. This is called the leverage effect.
For example, if a deposit of 10,000 yen allows a trade worth 100,000 yen, the leverage effect is 10 times.
However, leverage is credit creation. If that credit reverses, the result is disastrous.

Incidentally, what I’ve written here is just a secondhand explanation, so even the writer only feels like they understand it.
In short, amateurs are better off not touching it.

There’s no such thing as an easy win.