July 19.
Among the many meetings he had in preparation for the role of Neo, the most difficult were always the action scenes. He trained constantly, but looking at himself in the mirror felt like watching a child play-fighting—uncoordinated, weak, just a fool flailing with no proper technique. It was a harsh way to see himself, since hand-to-hand combat wasn’t his goal. It was a goal he somewhat despised, and there were doubts about whether even three more months of training would bring significant improvement. Still, at the very least, he could execute a choreographed fight taken to its limits.
–Hit harder. – said Hiroki.
–I think if I raise my arms just a little more, I won’t be able to lift them at all tomorrow—not even a twitch. – Billy replied with a smile. Day by day, he was beginning to understand his instructor more. Differently, Hiroki’s culture was deeply rooted in control, discipline, and consistency, a mindset that naturally extended into safety and strength.
–Let’s start again. – Hiroki said. They had been training since four in the morning, already deep into their workout routine. For the past 25 days, he had worked with Laurence and the stunt coordinator. The next sequence would be a fight against Agent Smith—two routines they had to repeat consistently. Hiroki replicated them, and Billy followed suit, even though he already had a stunt double—a guy with similar height, skin tone, and facial structure, though a bit more long-nosed and slightly less symmetrical around the eyes. But he was a beast. At 23 years old, the guy could pull off thousands of moves.
Anne arrived after her workout, having spent plenty of time embracing rest and stillness. Though it might have seemed like an empty silence, not working had brought her a certain peace. The hotel always gave her a sense of calm. She hated bugs—even though she didn’t want to admit it, cockroaches were nothing short of a nightmare. Because of that, she usually stuck to a bit of coffee and took time to enjoy the gorgeous beaches. Later, as time passed like a fading star, she would watch the mishaps, study every detail—whether he trained hard or not, whether he moved with force or faltered. Watching him go through acts she didn’t fully understand was part of the difficulty of learning something new.
Anne received a call.
–Yes, I’ve wrapped everything up. I’ll be back in six days. I don’t have time for back-and-forth. – She said, having already gotten used to managing everything with firm decisiveness over the past few months.
–Then let’s hope the next few days bring some kind of solution. – Anne added.
…
Raimon was completely stunned. He had made a 45% return on the puts they’d executed, and that—combined with an additional 66% from the shares—had driven the success of their portfolio to unprecedented levels. It was a bold, resounding answer to their quiet triumph.
–How is it possible that all this happened in just a few days? – Raimon muttered, breathing deeply. If they kept investing like this, Billy would surely come up with a new acquisition plan for the coming days. He already held a solid position—one of reason, success, and reassurance.
–No one says no to this much nonsense. – Gwen commented. Over the next few days and months, she was certain the meaningless speeches were starting to wear her down. But Lux Animation’s script was damned precise when it came to the countries and markets it targeted—sharp as a knife, minimizing risk with uncanny accuracy. And when those risks did surface, they stayed within an 8% to 11% margin, small enough to go unnoticed.
–Nonsense. For weeks now, you’ve been dragging me into a place of hate and pounding headaches. – Raimon replied, watching the screens flicker. A strange feeling swept over him, as if the numbers were constantly shifting just to make his fears real. Even if he was scared or it was hard to process, only two trades remained—both set to conclude in two months, ending with Thailand. What remained in their grasp was Indonesia and Malaysia, set for August.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, still unaware of the truths or realities shifting beneath the rubble, he noted that Korea was set for October and Hong Kong for December—an inexplicable course of events driven by chaos and interference. What a fate it was.
He exhaled deeply. Three or four young men in suits, freshly cologned, entered the room. They were in Hong Kong. They had been stationed there for months, working on this kind of task—the kind that grated on nerves. From that operations base, they carried out thousands—hundreds of thousands—of Asian transactions in an orderly fashion, like a system built on raw precision. Private operations ran differently, and when done that way, everything moved fast. It was like a silent response—quick and fleeting.
–Sir. – said Gwen, suppressing the arrogance embedded in her nature.
–Relax, Gwen. I came to celebrate and close a few deals. – said Julian Robertson, masking his discomfort with a smile.
As he entered, Raimon began organizing the transaction files. Billy’s original instructions were printed on a single sheet of paper—the rest shredded. But that single page was etched into the memory of Julian Robertson, Gwen, Raimon, and Adam Grunkey, a technical advisor.
–We need to talk, kid. – said Julian Robertson. The impact of their move was known on Wall Street. Of course, now everyone was watching like hawks, their eyes fixed on the skies, as if summoned. Who could look away?
...
–Where did you get the information? – Julian Robertson asked.
Raimon pulled a dumb face, unsure how to answer. He was slightly out of the loop. The truth was that everything had come from Billy.
–What are you talking about? It was Billy. He’s the one who got all the intel. – Raimon gestured.
Julian Robertson cursed, kicked over a trash bin, then slammed his fist against the wall and ripped off his tie.
–There’s nothing else we can do. – he muttered. Less than 24 hours ago, he had received a very specific threat about how they were operating in Asia.Someone had leaked something to the press, heating the situation, and their entire position had been stolen. But what could he do?
–I think you need to breathe. – whispered Raimon, sensing something was seriously wrong. – First, we played the game and won. Second, there’s nothing illegal about what we did. –
–You don’t understand. – said Julian Robertson.
–I do understand. – Raimon replied, knowing he needed to call his friend Loca Lomas. There was nothing more dangerous than a vengeful fool. Wall Street had plenty of them—people who used organized media to intimidate.
What a mistake. In truth, it had all been a subtle move by William D. Rockefeller. The old man played in the shadows like a grandmaster, hunting and spooking his prey, weaving a web that couldn’t be escaped. When fear becomes a seed, it grows, it spreads—and that fear is never forgotten.
Julian Robertson was desperate… while Billy was calmly practicing karate routines.
...