Zenith of Desire: The Hollywood Incubus

So, the expansion list from all your recommendations. These ladies need votes to confirm as nothing is confirmed in the list without enough votes, confirmation I will do around the 300th Chapter..

Note: Remember to look at the last list(ch24). If there is a name in that list that wasn’t mentioned in yesterday’s list and all the ’maybe’ got confirmation, it means they are confirmed to appear and be part of it, so you don’t have to keep commenting names of them. And if a name appears in both lists without ’maybe’, that means it’s my mistake.

To get any clerication and answers in an instant, join the Discord group.

We require 93 additional Power Stone donors, 9 more reviews, and 400 more collections to unlock the next bonus Chapters.

Get those stones going boys and tomboys, we need to get those numbers up!

Join my Patreon

GodofPleasure

(dot)com/GodofPleasure

******

While Marvin was reading his reviews in the San Marino estate, the world was doing what it always did — conducting its affairs in parallel with his without particular awareness of the small, dark-eyed boy who was paying attention to all of it.

The gaming industry was in the middle of what its historians would later call its first golden age of narrative — the year that demonstrated, via *Final Fantasy VII* and several other releases, that video games could make people cry, could tell stories of genuine emotional complexity, could be art in ways that the mainstream culture had not yet accepted but could no longer reasonably deny. The community that had responded to *Ready Player One* with such immediate and comprehensive recognition was a community in the process of understanding its own significance, and the book had arrived at exactly the moment when that community was most hungry for a mirror.

The internet was growing. Not yet ubiquitous — a 1997 American household with internet access was still a household in the minority — but growing with the velocity of something that had found its mechanism and was following it.

The early communities that had formed around shared interests — music, games, film, the emerging culture of what would later be called nerd culture but was in 1997 still finding its language — were developing the dynamics of online discourse: the recommendation networks, the shared enthusiasm, the connection between people who had encountered the same thing and needed to discuss it with other people who understood why it mattered.

These communities had found *Marvin 1* the way communities find things that are genuinely good — organically, without institutional direction, through the mechanism of one person telling another. They were finding *Ready Player One* the same way, with the additional intensity of recognition — the sense that the book had been written *for them* specifically, which was not entirely wrong.

In Japan and China, *Kung Fu Panda* continued its remarkable extended life in markets where the philosophical content resonated in ways that went beyond the Western reception. The book had been integrated into school reading programs in three Japanese prefectures. A Chinese children’s publisher had approached Random House about a companion edition with additional material drawn from the source philosophical traditions, a conversation that Marvin had been informed of and had authorized to proceed.

And in the music industry, ’My Heart Will Go On’ with Wolf Cousins was preparing for its retail release with the quiet confidence of a piece of music that everyone who had heard it in the context of the Titanic score was already discussing in terms that the usual pre-release commentary did not employ — not *will this chart* or *will this radio* but *this is already something, the question is only how big.*

The Grammy nominations were coming in January. The Oscar nominations in February. The Titanic box office story was in its first weekend.

Marvin Meyers was twelve years old.

He was also, in all the ways that mattered for understanding what was actually happening, considerably older than that. And the year that was ending had demonstrated — to the gaming press and the music industry and the literary establishment and the technology community and the film world — that the combination of these two things was producing outcomes that none of the available frameworks were adequate to account for.

---

At seven-thirty in the evening, when the operational list had been completed and Amy had gone home and the estate was in its evening quiet, Marvin sat at the Steinway in the drawing room and played.

Not for a purpose. Not for a recording or a performance or the cultivation of anything. Simply because the day had been full of the products of previous work and the evening was the time for the beginning of what came next.

He played for an hour, moving through things that did not yet have names — melodic fragments and harmonic ideas and rhythmic structures that were exploring their own possibilities in the private way that musical ideas do before they have decided what they are. Some of them would become the second album, the one he had told the label would be ready sooner than later. Some of them would not become anything, or would become something else entirely, or would sit in the intermediate space of musical potential for months before resolving.

He was not concerned about which was which. That was not how the process worked.

Marvin played.

The world outside continued its convergence —

All of it was moving. All of it was converging on a point that was still several months ahead.

He was not impatient. He had, in various forms, been patient for considerably longer than eleven years.

He played the Steinway in the evening quiet of the San Marino estate and listened to what the music was trying to become, and waited for it to show him.

It always did.

---

On November 21st, 1997, the International Monetary Fund and the South Korean government jointly announced the terms of an emergency financing program totalling fifty-seven billion dollars in committed support — the largest IMF program in history. The announcement made the front page of every major financial newspaper in the world. The *Financial Times* ran it as a banner headline. The *Wall Street Journal* cleared its first three pages of the front section to cover it.

The conditions attached to the program were extensive and specific. The Korean won would be allowed to depreciate to a level consistent with balance of payments equilibrium. The banking sector would undergo comprehensive restructuring — non-viable institutions would be closed, merged, or recapitalised under government supervision. The major chaebols would be required to reduce their debt-to-equity ratios to levels consistent with international norms, which in practice meant the partial or complete dismantling of the conglomerate structures that had been built over three decades. Interest rates would be raised immediately and maintained at elevated levels until capital outflows stabilised.

The won fell to 1,139 per dollar on the day of the announcement.

The KOSPI fell eleven point six percent.

And then, on November 22nd — the day after the announcement, as the market processed the full scale of the adjustments the program required — the won fell further. To 1,184.

David Kim called Marvin at three in the morning Pacific time.

”The won is at 1,184,” David said. ”We are within range of the exit target.”

”What’s the total won NDF book?”

”thirty-five million notional, average entry 931 won to the dollar. At current spot of 1,184, the unrealised gain on the NDF book is approximately twelve point eight million dollars.”

”And the KOSPI put book?”

”November expiry puts have settled. Gains recognised at expiry: approximately thirteen point four million. December puts — now rolled to January — are showing mark-to-market gains of approximately twelve point one million at current KOSPI level of 478.”

Marvin was quiet for a moment. He had the notebook open in front of him, the running P&L calculation that he had been updating since the program began.

”Exit the won NDF positions when spot hits 1,250,” he said. ”Do it in one session. All of it. Don’t stage the exit — the won will move fast in both directions once the IMF stabilisation begins to take effect, and a staged exit risks missing the window.”

”Understood. Do you want me on standby for the overnight session?”

”You and Elena both. I want them awake when this happens.”

”Done.”

---

The won hit 1,248 per dollar on November 26th at 2:47 in the afternoon Seoul time — eleven-forty-seven in the evening on November 25th, Pacific time.

David Kim called Marvin at eleven-fifty Pacific.

”Spot is 1,248. We are inside the exit window.”

”Execute,” Marvin said. His voice was the same as it always was.

”Full position?”

”Full position. All thirty-five million notional. One session. Execute.”

The exit took forty-seven minutes. David executed through three counterparties, as the entry had been structured, to avoid moving the market significantly. The won moved from 1,248 to 1,261 during the execution period — modestly, suggesting that the position was not large enough relative to the market’s daily volume to create significant price impact, which was a function of the position sizing discipline the program had maintained throughout.

The NDF book closed at an average exit rate of 1,255 won to the dollar.

Average entry: 931.

Net gain on the won NDF program, after carry costs and fees: approximately 25.2 million dollars on thirty-five million in notional deployment.

When the call ended, Marvin sat in the silence of the home office for a moment, the terminal screen showing the Reuters wire’s coverage of the Korean won — now at 1,267, continuing to move in the program’s favour even as the exit was completing — and he did the arithmetic that he had been building toward for five months.

---

The total program P&L, as of November 26th, 1997:

**Indonesian rupiah program** (thirty-five million notional, August 8 to October exit in stages): Net realised gains: $39.2 million

**Malaysian ringgit program** (fifty million notional, exited September 17th):

Net realised gains: $10.1 million

**Thai baht and Philippine peso supplementary positions** (twelve million combined notional):

Net realised gains: $5.7 million

**Korean won program** (thirty-five million notional, August 25 to November 26th exit):

Net realised gains: $25.2 million

**KOSPI financial sector put program** (November expiry settled, January expiry held):

Net realised gains on closed positions: $14.4 million

Unrealised mark-to-market on January expiry puts: $9.8 million

**Total realised gains across closed programs: $104.4 million**

**Unrealised mark-to-market (January KOSPI puts, held): $8.8 million**

**Starting capital: $120 million**

**Total capital (starting capital plus realised gains): $233.2 million**

He looked at the number.

It was correct. He had checked it three times. The arithmetic was straightforward and the figures had been verified by Sophie Chen’s position tracking before he ran the calculation himself.

Two hundred and thirty-three million dollars.

He had promised himself nine hundred and fifty to a billion.

He was sixty-seven percent of the way there from the currency programs alone.

The equity component — the redeployment of the profits into the companies that the crisis had broken but not destroyed — had not yet begun.

He picked up the phone and called his father.

”The Korean position is closed Dad,” Marvin said. ”The currency program is complete. The total realised P&L on the currency and options book is one hundred and thirteen point two million dollars.”

A long silence on Grant’s end.

”One hundred and thirteen point two,” Grant said.

”Correct.”

”On a hundred and twenty starting capital.”

”Yes.”

”In five months.”

”In five months,” Marvin confirmed. ”The remaining program — the equity redeployment — begins in December. I need to brief the full team on the next phase by December 3rd.”

”I’ll set it up.” A pause. ”Marvin.”

”Yes.”

”Your grandfather—”

”I’ll call him tomorrow morning,” Marvin said. ”After I’ve slept.”

---

There is a moment in every great financial crisis when the selling stops being rational and becomes mechanical. When the fundamental analysis — the careful assessment of intrinsic value, competitive position, long-term earnings power — ceases to be the driver of price and the driver of price becomes instead the automatic, reflexive response to an environment that has conditioned every participant to sell first and ask questions later, because for the past five months asking questions first has been the mistake.

That moment, in the Asian financial crisis, arrived in December 1997.

It arrived differently in different markets. In Korea, it arrived when the KOSPI touched 351 on December 12th — a decline of fifty-five percent from its pre-crisis July level. In Taiwan, it arrived when the TWSE fell to 7,200, dragged down by contagion from the crisis economies despite Taiwan’s substantially different economic structure. In Japan, it arrived when the Nikkei 225, which had been declining through the year for reasons partially related to the Asian crisis and partially to Japan’s own domestic banking system problems, fell to 14,800 — levels not seen since 1986, during the early phase of the asset bubble that had spent the preceding decade slowly deflating.

The stocks that were selling at these prices were not, in many cases, selling at these prices because their underlying businesses had been destroyed. They were selling at these prices because the capital that had previously held them had been forced to exit — because the funds that had bought Korean and Taiwanese and Japanese equities in the 90s had suffered losses in their currency books, or had received redemption requests from investors frightened by the regional headlines, or had been subject to internal risk management decisions that required reducing regional exposure regardless of individual stock quality. The selling was not informed. It was structural. It was the selling of institutions that could not afford to hold regardless of value.

Marvin Meyers had been preparing for this moment since November of 1996.

---

The sharp, shrill ring of the final school bell echoed across the manicured, sun-drenched courtyard of the prestigious Los Angeles private academy. A flood of students in crisp uniforms poured out of the heavy double doors, their voices rising in a chaotic, joyful crescendo of Friday afternoon freedom.

But amidst the chaotic swarm of teenagers rushing toward the line of waiting yellow buses, there was a distinct, undeniable epicenter of gravity.

*****

I can’t reply to your comments but don’t let that stop keep commenting. My Discord link is in my profile and also here.

Join my Patreon

GodofPleasure

(dot)com/GodofPleasure