Golden Spoon Investment Portfolio - Chapter 340

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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340. With a major crisis like this erupting, how could anyone possibly weather it?

Yamakawa Hiroshi, president of Nomura Securities, woke at his usual early hour.
Raising himself upright, I reached toward the nightstand, removed the cover from the glass, and took a long drink of water to soothe my parched throat.
Glancing at the clock, it was just past 6 a.m.
Despite sleeping my normal hours, the recent stress weighed on me so heavily that my body felt as though it were made of lead.
I recalled the report from the CFO yesterday—that an additional one billion dollars had been paid to the Eldorado Fund according to the options contract—and found myself groaning involuntarily.

“Usami. That idiot has cost me more than I can even calculate.”

A single botched options contract had squandered more than double Nomura Securities’ pre-tax operating profit from last year—there was no holding back the curses.
Unless a major windfall materialized before year’s end, Nomura Securities was now virtually guaranteed to post a loss for the year.

“We managed to slip through the first quarter by cooking the books, but the second quarter earnings announcement coming up is the real problem.”

If word got out about the two billion dollar operating loss, the stock would plummet immediately, and the shareholder meeting would be a maelstrom of criticism and condemnation—that much was certain.
If it ended there, I could count myself fortunate, but in the worst case, I might not even complete my term before being forced to resign in disgrace.

“This position didn’t come easy—I absolutely cannot let that happen.”

I had outmaneuvered my peers and rivals, sacrificed my entire youth to the company, and earned this presidency through sheer determination.
My goal was to follow the path of my predecessors—serve three full consecutive terms, then retire gracefully as an advisor to enjoy a comfortable old age.
But this unforeseen catastrophe had put my position in jeopardy, and I could feel my blood boiling.
I bit down hard on my lower lip and muttered to myself.

“First, I have to conceal these losses from the outside world, no matter what it takes.”

That was why, despite my fury reaching a fever pitch, I had shown magnanimity toward Usami—I didn’t pursue further accountability, paid out his full severance, and simply accepted his resignation.
If Usami harbored any resentment and went around spreading word of the company’s massive losses, I would be the only one to suffer.
I exhaled a deep sigh, swung my legs out of bed, and pulled a cigarette from the silver case on the nightstand, placing it between my lips.
Then I flicked the lighter and lit it.
My wife constantly nagged me never to smoke in the bedroom because of the smell, but I had no room for such considerations now.
As I drew the white smoke deep into my lungs and felt the nicotine spread through my body, my mind began to settle slightly.

“Exhale.”

After smoking in silence for a moment, I seemed to reach some resolution, and my voice turned steely and determined.

“I have no choice but to resort to tobashi.”

Tobashi (飛ばし) was Japanese financial jargon meaning “to blow away”—a euphemism for concealing losses.
In essence, it was a form of accounting fraud where losses were shuffled between affiliated companies during settlement periods to hide the deficit, a practice known as window dressing.
Though accounting manipulation through such schemes was clearly criminal, it was so openly practiced in Japanese financial circles that Yamakawa felt no guilt whatsoever.

“The amount is substantial, but if I distribute the losses over three to four years, I can handle it cleanly without anyone knowing.”

Even for Nomura Securities, Japan’s premier firm, this was no simple task—yet Yamakawa murmured to himself as if self-hypnotizing.

“This is the only option left. I can do this.”

After repeating this mantra several times, Yamakawa stubbed out his half-burned cigarette in the ashtray and rose from the bed.
He stepped out of the bedroom wearing pajamas beneath a thin cardigan, and his wife poked her head out from the kitchen.

“You’re awake.”
“Yes. What’s for breakfast this morning?”
“Grilled mackerel—your favorite.”
“Is there natto?”
“Yes, there is.”
“Set it out so we can eat together.”

Yamakawa stepped into the Garden, listening to his wife instruct the household staff preparing breakfast in the kitchen.
Spring had arrived in full, and despite his light clothing, he felt a slight warmth in the air.
Crossing the lawn, Yamakawa picked up the morning newspaper that had fallen beneath the iron gate.

“Let me see.”

As Yamakawa unfolded the newspaper, his eyes widened in shock at the massive headline dominating the front page.

[Nomura and Japan’s Big Four Securities Firms Suffer Massive Multi-Billion Dollar Options Contract Losses!
Investigation confirms that Nomura, Nikko, Daiwa, and Yamaichi Securities—the firms known as the Big 4—have incurred substantial losses from options contracts with foreign investment funds.
Due to these options contract losses, all four securities firms are expected to post deficits this fiscal year….]

Yamakawa’s body went rigid as he stared at the very thing he had desperately tried to conceal splashed across the newspaper’s front page.

“What is this….”

His face flushed red with shock and rage, Yamakawa clutched the newspaper in one hand and strode back into the house with heavy, agitated steps.

“Breakfast is ready, so come eat.”
“Later.”

Yamakawa’s face had turned rigid as stone. He brushed past his wife and slammed the Study Room door shut behind him.
Sensing something serious had occurred, his wife gazed anxiously at the closed door and murmured to herself.

“Has something happened at the company…?”

Yamakawa immediately locked himself in the Study Room, settled onto the leather sofa, and called Takenaka.
As the phone rang, I furrowed my brow deeply while reviewing the newspaper article once more.

[Yes, this is Takenaka.]

The moment he answered, Yamakawa slapped the newspaper down on the table and spoke.

“Listen here.”
[Yes, President.]
“There’s an article about options contracts in today’s Nikkei Newspaper. How on earth did this happen?”

Takenaka responded, clearly flustered by the fury in his voice.

[I was just about to contact you. It seems you’ve already seen it.]
“You knew about it and did nothing?”

Takenaka hastily offered an explanation.

[I only just learned about it from the PR department moments ago.]

Yamakawa gripped the receiver tightly and bellowed.

“If an article like this appears, you should have stopped it beforehand! What was the PR department doing?”
[According to them, this article didn’t exist when they checked the first edition yesterday.]

The first printed newspapers were distributed and sold at newsstands in subway stations and bus stops starting the evening before the publication date—these were called first editions or newspaper stand editions.
Until the final version was printed the next day and delivered to homes, newspapers could coordinate with companies to remove or revise articles. This was why corporate PR departments and even government officials purchased first editions from newsstands to check for unfavorable coverage.
Naturally, Nomura Securities also maintained dedicated staff who purchased all first editions from every newspaper daily to meticulously verify whether any articles contained content disadvantageous to the company.
Yet Yamakawa’s fury intensified at the realization that such an article had slipped through their screening.

“So you’re telling me the Nikkei Newspaper deliberately orchestrated this to make us look bad!”

Takenaka wiped sweat from his brow as he answered.

[It’s not that. Apparently, this article was added after the first edition went to print.]
“Damn it!”

Yamakawa slammed his palm against the table, his fury igniting like wildfire.

“Even so, you should have notified me in advance about an article like this!”

Though pulling an article already sent to print was difficult, failing to recognize it beforehand and secure time to devise countermeasures was undeniably a grave error. Takenaka had nothing to say in his defense.

[I have no excuse.]
“One apology won’t settle this! Not by a long shot.”
[… I sincerely apologize.]

Yamakawa clicked his tongue in displeasure, then bellowed into the receiver with exasperation.

“I’m heading to the office right now—call an emergency meeting immediately!”
[Yes. Understood.]

Yamakawa slammed the receiver down as though he might shatter it, then stared once more at the newspaper article spread across the table. He clutched his head in his hands.

“This is absolutely maddening.”

* * *

Nihonbashi, Tokyo.
The Securities Trading Floor had been packed since morning with well over forty investors.
They had all rushed in after reading the morning edition’s article about Japan’s Big Four Securities Firms’ massive options contract losses.

“What on earth is happening?”
“Right? Not just one firm—all four of the Big Four lost tens of billions of dollars in options. Who could have possibly imagined this?”

Amid the pervasive anxiety, the Middle-aged Man in his fedora and the Unknown Photographer in his floral shirt stood side by side before the massive ticker board.
The Middle-aged Man, holding a financial newspaper in one hand, murmured as though the pieces had finally fallen into place.

“So that’s why securities stocks suddenly plummeted. There was a reason for it all.”
“Exactly. Losses exceeding hundreds of billions of yen—they’re large enough that they won’t collapse, but the blow will be tremendous, won’t it?”
“Of course. Nomura Securities, the industry leader, had a pre-tax profit of 124.2 billion yen last year. Nikko, Daiwa, and Yamaichi are in the 300 to 400 billion yen range. But if the newspaper article is accurate, they’ve squandered two years’ worth of pre-tax profits in a single stroke. That’s no small matter.”

The Middle-aged Man gesticulated wildly, spittle flying as he spoke with passionate intensity.
The man in the floral shirt took a subtle step backward, then shook his head and asked.

“But how on earth did they lose such an enormous sum of money?”
“Well, you see….”

The Middle-aged Man lowered his voice, conscious of the ears around him.

“Word has it that the Eldorado Fund entered into CDS option contracts on the stock indices of Thailand and Indonesia.”

The man’s eyes widened in shock.

“The Eldorado Fund? Isn’t that the same outfit that caused such a stir with knock-in knock-out options before?”
“Exactly. We all watched major corporations like Nissan get hammered, yet they went and lost a fortune with options again. It’s absolutely pathetic.”

The Middle-aged Man tapped his palm with a rolled-up economics newspaper and clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“At least I was fortunate enough to cut my losses on all my Nomura Securities shares on the first day of the decline.”

The Middle-aged Man’s expression suggested he had aged a decade in mere days.
The man in the floral shirt, recalling how he had rushed about as if his feet were on fire, smiled slightly and asked again.

“When the market opens, all four of those stocks will be decimated, won’t they?”
“Of course. With such a massive catastrophe, there’s no way they can survive.”

The man in the floral shirt nodded in agreement, sharing the same sentiment.
With the market sentiment already deteriorating, both men stared anxiously at the massive ticker board before them, worried that the Nikkei would sink even deeper into decline because of this incident.
As investors waited tensely, the opening bell finally rang, and the numbers frozen on the massive ticker board began to move.
Just as expected, the moment trading commenced, the entire board flooded with green—the color indicating declines—and the gathered investors’ faces turned blank with despair.

“Ah….”
“This can’t be happening.”

Among them, those who had purchased securities stocks after watching them decline for days and then rebound, hoping for a recovery, were so devastated by the waterfall of plummeting prices that they simply collapsed onto the floor, utterly defeated.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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