Moscow, Russian Federation Government Headquarters.
"What did you say?"
Igor Korotchenko, Chief of Staff, furrowed his brows and straightened his upper body, making the employee standing at the desk shrink back nervously.
Just over thirty, Korotchenko was far too young to be serving as Chief of Staff to the Prime Minister. Hailing from a rural area 400 kilometers from Moscow and largely inexperienced in the ways of the world, he leaned back in his chair and spoke in an angry voice.
"So, it's not the Deputy Minister personally coming, but some low-level assistant deputy showing up just to see the Prime Minister?"
It wasn't just any assistant deputy. He was one of the Treasury's key figures, a powerhouse capable of influencing the global economy alongside Secretary Frank.
Even if that weren't the case, the U.S. is no weak country. An Assistant Secretary of the Treasury is a position that simply cannot be ignored.
Yet Korotchenko, seemingly oblivious to these facts, fixated only on the seemingly low rank of "Assistant Secretary."
He appeared to still think of Russia as the superpower it had been during the Cold War, locked in a nuclear arms race with the U.S., even though the Soviet Union had long since collapsed into an empty shell.
The employee was inwardly exasperated but knew better than to argue. Korotchenko's pride was immense, he rarely listened to others, and his temper was fiery—so the words caught in the employee's throat went unsaid.
"We have too many other commitments. I don't think we can make time," Korotchenko said with a frown.
The employee looked startled.
"Sir, are you saying we should reject the meeting request?"
"Yes."
The employee, unable to hide his confusion, tried to reason with him.
"But Assistant Secretary Henick is already in Moscow. Perhaps you should reconsider."
Korotchenko, arms crossed, slouched back in his chair, wearing an expression of pure irritation.
"Even if it's the U.S., it's not appropriate for the Prime Minister to meet with some lowly assistant deputy."
"…Excuse me?"
The employee's mouth fell open in disbelief.
The statement was so absurd that, for a moment, he even doubted his own ears.
Setting everything else aside, the reason Assistant Secretary Henick had come to Moscow was precisely to help Russia's struggling economy. That alone made the remark incomprehensible.
Here was someone who had come offering help, and Korotchenko was questioning their rank. The employee could hardly believe it.
Still, he forced himself to remain calm and tried to persuade the Chief of Staff.
"If we cancel a scheduled meeting unilaterally, it could escalate into a diplomatic issue."
"Tsk."
Korotchenko clicked his tongue, clearly displeased.
"Pathetic. Who told you to take things seriously? Just make up a decent excuse and be done with it."
The employee felt a surge of disbelief at the condescending look he received.
It wasn't as if Henick had arrived unannounced; this was a scheduled meeting that could have proceeded normally. Yet Korotchenko insisted on letting his ridiculous pride get in the way.
The employee clenched his jaw but tried again to stay composed.
"Sir, please reconsider."
Despite the repeated pleas, Korotchenko remained unmoved.
"The Prime Minister will meet them when the Yankees show the proper respect."
He waved his hand dismissively, as if the matter were a nuisance.
"Understood? Now leave."
No matter how the employee thought about it, this was unreasonable—but reasoning with Korotchenko was impossible.
"Yes… understood."
Reluctantly bowing his head, the employee left the room and let out a deep sigh in front of the closed door.
"Damn. Can this really be allowed?"
It seemed like disaster was imminent, but when instructions came from above, even absurd ones had to be followed.
"Sigh…"
Still unsettled, the employee started walking, his steps heavy with unease.
***
At the Radisson Royal Hotel in Moscow, in the living room of the Royal Suite, Assistant Secretary of the Treasury Henick sat on the sofa, sipping coffee while reviewing documents.
A shadow fell beside him, and a member of his staff approached.
"We just received a call from the Russian Prime Minister's office," the aide said.
Without lifting his eyes from the papers, Henick asked,
"They'll still meet at the White House tomorrow as scheduled, right?"
The "White House" was the nickname for the Kremlin's grand, white-painted government building.
"…Well, about that."
The aide hesitated, unable to answer immediately. Henick finally lifted his gaze.
Meeting his eyes, the aide looked troubled and reluctantly spoke.
"It seems tomorrow's meeting will be difficult."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Prime Minister Popov suddenly has another engagement."
Henick immediately furrowed his brow.
"You said 'another engagement' just now?"
"Yes, sir."
Henick set the documents down on the table, his voice sinking with gravity.
"How urgent must that engagement be to postpone a meeting that was scheduled in advance?"
"He is attending the ground-breaking ceremony for a new food processing plant in Saint Petersburg," the aide replied.
Henick stared for a moment, thinking he must have misheard.
"So you're telling me that a meeting scheduled a week ago is being delayed just for a food factory groundbreaking?"
"Yes, sir."
The aide nodded firmly.
"Ha… ha."
Henick let out a hollow laugh, disbelief written across his face, but it quickly hardened into a cold glare.
"So these guys want to play games with me?"
"I don't think that's it," the aide replied.
"Then what is it?"
After a brief hesitation, the aide spoke cautiously.
"The trip to Saint Petersburg is just an excuse. There seems to be another reason entirely."
"Of course it is. No way a food factory groundbreaking could be more important than Russia's dire financial situation. I still can't figure out what they're plotting."
"Well… Prime Minister Popov implied that you, Assistant Secretary, aren't of sufficient rank to meet with him. He suggested, almost subtly, that at least Secretary Frank should be present."
"What?"
Henick's face immediately crumpled with frustration.
"So basically, since I'm not high-ranking enough, they want someone even higher to come."
The aide, noticing the anger in Henick's low voice, continued cautiously.
"Yes, sir."
"These people still seem to believe Russia is the superpower it once was, capable of standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the U.S."
It was infuriating—Russia was a hollow shell of its former self, yet they were trying to assert pride against the superpower across the globe.
"Should I contact the Prime Minister's office and try to reschedule?" the aide asked.
Henick crossed his arms, thought for a moment, and then raised his head, his tone icy.
"No need."
The aide, unsure of what to do, asked nervously,
"Then what will you do…?"
"If they have the nerve to act this way, it means we still have the upper hand. If they refuse, there's no reason for us to bow or act subservient."
Henick's voice was firm and unyielding as he pushed the documents aside.
They were prepared for the meeting, but since it was canceled, there was no need to review them further.
"Pack up. We're returning to the U.S."
The aide was taken aback.
"Are you really leaving?"
"So, am I supposed to just sit here waiting until they decide to see us? Do I look that free?"
"Of course not, sir," the aide said quickly.
"They're the ones who canceled the meeting, not us. Clearly, they haven't realized their position yet. It's about time we show them who's really in charge."
Henick's stern demeanor made it clear that his words weren't just out of anger.
Recognizing this, the aide cautiously tried to intervene, wearing a troubled expression.
"I understand your frustration, sir, but if we just return without pressing the matter, it could escalate the situation in Moscow. Perhaps we should make one last attempt to speak with the Prime Minister's office."
Henick paused, considering the plea, then nodded slightly.
"Fine. Let's give them one final chance, as they say. But if they utter another ridiculous excuse, we'll return to the U.S. immediately."
"Yes, sir."
The aide quickly left the room. Left alone, Henick sank into the sofa, his eyes flashing with icy intensity.
"Fooling around without knowing your place. I'll have to teach them some proper manners."
***
After finishing his shower, Seok-won stepped out of the bathroom and immediately grabbed his phone from the table, where it was buzzing loudly.
[Boss, something's happened in Moscow!]
The moment he pressed the call button, Landon's excited voice burst through.
As expected from his pre-regression memories, the meeting between the U.S. and Russia hadn't gone smoothly.
Seok-won shook his hair with a towel and asked calmly, as if he knew nothing,
"Explain it so I can understand."
[Assistant Secretary Henick couldn't even meet with Prime Minister Popov and has left Moscow.]
"So they couldn't even hold the meeting?"
[Details are still unclear, but yes.]
Landon, who had been worried about Russian bond prices rising after his recent short positions, reported the news with immense excitement.
[The bottom line is that Henick and the U.S. delegation showed extreme displeasure, canceled all remaining appointments within just two days, and returned home.]
Seok-won, the only one who had predicted this outcome, asked calmly,
"What's the Kremlin's reaction?"
[No official comment yet, but they seem quite flustered by the U.S. delegation leaving early.]
"That makes sense. The rouble is already weak, and Russian bond prices are down—it's bad news that will only increase market anxiety."
[And remember, the IMF delegation has also entered Moscow.]
"Indeed."
[They suggested raising taxes to reduce Russia's chronic fiscal deficit, but the Russian government refused, so the attempt at persuasion failed.]
Seok-won's eyes gleamed.
"Of all times, two bad shocks hitting simultaneously—what terrible timing."
[I agree. It seems Prime Minister Popov, inexperienced as he is, really made a huge blunder.]
At 35 years old, Yevgeny Popov was far too young and politically inexperienced. Despite opposition from Russia's State Duma, he had been appointed prime minister thanks to the favor of President Ivanov.
"By now, the news must have spread. How is the market reacting?"
[The rubble, which had been slightly falling, has bounced back, and Russian government bonds are showing increased spreads, reflecting the ongoing anxiety.]
"This just adds fuel to an already worrying situation. Foreign investors will likely start pulling funds out of Russia in a rush."
[Not just hedge funds—investment banks and mutual funds are already moving in that direction.]
Nothing reacted faster than money.
"The risk of a crisis reemerging in Asia is clear, so once investors sense danger, they'll shift funds to safer places."
[Even I would do the same.]
Landon couldn't help but marvel again at how right Seok-won's predictions were.
[You said the U.S.-Russia talks wouldn't be easy, and once again, you were spot on. It's remarkable.]
Seok-won smiled at the genuine praise and responded calmly.
"This could act as a trigger, and the situation may deteriorate rapidly. Keep a close eye on developments and let me know immediately if anything changes."
[Understood.]
After a brief exchange, Seok-won ended the call and set the phone down, muttering to himself.
"A massive tsunami is about to hit Wall Street."
The greedy capitalists of Wall Street would see Russia's collapse as prey, rushing in to exploit it—but at this point, they had no idea that the edge of that blade would eventually turn back on them.