Chapter 96: A Desired Betrayal Kanilan was collapsing.
The moment the true face of the "Collateralized Debt Obligations (CDOs)"—ambitiously designed by securities firms—was exposed, the mirage transformed into a living hell. These bombs, cleverly packaged with a mix of high-quality and subprime corporate bonds, detonated across Kanilan.
Companies once thought invincible plummeted, triggering a chain reaction of bankruptcies that dragged the securities firms down with them.
"...Dayson."
In the Executive Vice President's office at Rekiano Securities, CEO Moretti scratched his cheek while looking at Dayson. His cheeks were sunken, making him look more like a badger than usual today.
"I've made contact. They said they would buy back part of the insurance."
"...Is that true?"
Dayson's eyes widened.
"Thank God! I knew it—they must have been desperate for cash too. How much did they ask for? I'll—I'll handle the negotiations. As much as—"
"No. It wasn't about the money."
CEO Moretti slowly turned around. His gaze had turned ice-cold.
"There was another condition."
"...A condition? What kind?"
"That those responsible for designing and selling these pieces of trash derivatives must pay the appropriate price...."
Dayson's expression froze instantly.
"...What?"
"Financial fraud and charges of market manipulation."
Moretti placed a stack of documents on Dayson's desk.
"Someone has to take the fall. That's the only way the company survives. That was the deal. I'm sorry."
"No, what on earth are you—"
Bang!
Before he could offer an excuse, the office door swung open violently. Kanilan investigators in blue uniforms burst in.
"Dayson Lock. You are under emergency arrest for fraud and violations of the Act on the Aggravated Punishment of Specific Economic Crimes."
"N-No! Let go! Let me go!"
Dayson was dragged away, struggling wildly, while Moretti shook his head with a bitter expression.
—Let go! I said let go! You subhuman pieces of filth...!
His screams and curses faded down the hallway.
"...."
In the empty office, the CEO picked up his terminal with trembling hands.
"...Yes. It's been handled."
—Confirmed.
A dry voice replied. It belonged to the shadow of the Empire, a man whose name he didn't even know yet.
—I will cancel a portion of the insurance contracts. That should be enough to put out the immediate fires.
"Ah, thank you. Thank you so much."
Moretti bowed repeatedly to the device. It was barely enough to let him breathe, but he was profoundly grateful for even that much.
"I look forward to working with you in the—"
Click.
The call cut off.
"...Tsk."
Moretti slumped into his chair, wiping away cold sweat.
"Unbelievable."
Based on back-calculations of the transaction records from other securities firms and banks, this Imperial noble's projected profits exceeded billions of Imperial Dollars.
Of course, that figure might fluctuate during the realization of those profits, but he had already secured the title of "The Greatest Trade in Continental History."
"...Damn it. Did he come from the future or something?"
Still, thanks to him, bankruptcy had been avoided.
The CEO of Rekiano ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh of relief.
*
"Haa...."
Ren stared blankly at her terminal. The completely crushed stock prices flickered in her eyes.
[-83.85%]
The dream of a sudden fortune.
The price of her blood and sweat, earned by crawling through the mud as a mercenary throughout her twenties, had come to this....
"Ha."
Forget the salaries for her members next month; there wasn't even enough left for the office rent.
Akarius had become an empty shell.
"Customer number 37."
Her number was finally called.
This was the newly established bank, "Kronen Schatzinsel." She followed the staff's guidance into a VIP consultation room.
"Welcome, Commander Ren."
An expressionless employee greeted her.
"Yes."
The employee pushed a document forward first.
"Your interest payments are two months overdue."
"...I have no excuse."
Her head bowed instinctively.
"Furthermore, you invested the company's capital into CDOs, and the resulting losses are...."
The numbers the employee recited were beyond her comprehension.
Ren replied in a cracked voice.
"I am prepared for imprisonment."
Blinded by a moment of greed, she had incinerated the mercenary group's assets. Even their mercenary contracts had been mortgaged; soon, Akarius would no longer be hers.
"...Are you alright?"
The employee asked out of the blue.
Ren flashed a self-deprecating smile.
"Looking back... I fell into despair at too young an age, and I tasted success at too young an age as well."
When her family was destroyed and she was exiled from the Empire, she thought the world had ended.
Conversely, when she rose again and succeeded in Kanilan, she thought she was the protagonist of this world.
"I was arrogant."
"I see. You were."
"But I realize it now. Before the world, I was still nothing but a fledgling."
The employee adjusted his glasses and replied indifferently.
"However, what I asked was not about your feelings, but about the continued existence of the Akarius Mercenaries."
"...Huh?"
"I asked if the mercenary group would be alright."
"Ah...."
Ren's face flushed hot.
"An investigation by the Kanilan government will begin soon for embezzlement and breach of trust. The civilians of Kanilan have suffered as much as the corporations, and they need a scapegoat."
Ren's fingertips trembled.
She wasn't afraid of prison, but she wanted to prevent Akarius from being dissolved into thin air.
"...I'd be an idiot to blame anyone else at this point. I will take full responsibility, so please. I beg you to look after Akarius."
Ren bowed her head deeply.
The employee watched her for a moment before flipping over a sheet of paper.
"If you wish, we can help you maintain your management rights."
"...What?"
"Furthermore, we can compensate for all the losses incurred through your owner risk."
Ren blankly processed his words for a moment.
Loss compensation. Maintaining management rights.
"Is that... is that possible?"
"Yes. There is someone who highly values the potential of Akarius and wishes to invest. We, Kronen Schatzinsel, serve as the link for such investments."
He pushed the flipped document toward her.
"However, the condition that person set for you was this."
Instead of numbers, a sentence was written there.
[Sincere reflection, and commitment to the mercenary group.]
"...."
"If you accept the proposal, the owner of Akarius will become that person, but you, Ms. Ren, will serve as the first Commander appointed by them."
The employee pushed up his rimless glasses and asked again.
"Would that be acceptable?"
Ren lowered her head. She thought about it quietly, but it wasn't even something that required thought. A lifeline had just descended from a sky she thought had collapsed.
"...How could I refuse?"
She felt like she might cry, so she couldn't bring herself to say anything more.
*
One morning.
A bundle of manuscripts was delivered to my mansion—a text that felt somewhat burdensome for me to read.
The title was Baltaras.
The author was Johann Georg Goetze.
The content was a heroic epic about a protagonist named Paul who meets a supremely noble, aristocratic being named Baltaras, who leads the Empire and the world to glory.
The problem was that the tone was excessively religious, and more than anything, the description of "Baltaras" pointed too blatantly at me.
A swordsman with blonde hair, golden eyes, and cold rationality who wields a longsword—anyone could see it was Maximilian.
Johann had written this novel before my regression as well. However, back then, the protagonist had not yet met Baltaras. The Imperial Guard had presented that unfinished novel to the Emperor, and the Emperor, believing himself to be Baltaras, had recruited Johann.
In this life, Johann had found his Baltaras.
Johann's Baltaras was not the Emperor, but me.
"...Hmm."
I invited Johann to the mansion.
"...."
Johann looked incredibly nervous as he entered the study.
"Who... who do you think 'Baltaras' resembles?"
He asked cautiously, watching my reaction.
His sparkling eyes were practically screaming, "It's you."
"Mr. Johann."
"You may speak informally. Please, be comfortable."
"...Fine, Johann."
I set the manuscript down on the table.
"I believe the first rule of a novel is that it must be interesting."
"Interesting... you say?"
"Yes."
Johann has talent.
Before the regression, he wasted his literary talent solely on Imperial propaganda. It was only after the Empire's defeat, while imprisoned as a war criminal, that his talent truly blossomed.
The novels he wrote in prison, The Setting Sun and The Light of Dawn, were highly praised even by the New Cabinet.
"Setting aside literary value or lofty philosophy, a story only has meaning if it is read."
Despite being a first-class war criminal, Johann was executed quite late, and the anecdote related to that was his literature.
He was writing a novel at the time, and the New Cabinet actually waited for him to finish it.
Even as the Emperor's closest confidant and a primary perpetrator of genocide, he received such consideration.
"This feels less like a novel and more like... well, a religious liturgy. The worship is so excessive it's almost off-putting."
I flipped through the pages of Baltaras.
[A noble bears a fitting duty. In Ancient Aran, this is called Noblesse Oblige.]
It was a simple and clean opening.
"I like the first sentence. But if your goal is to remind nobles of their duties and sound an alarm for the bourgeoisie...."
I looked Johann straight in the eye.
"In the end, it must sell well and receive high praise. It must be widely read to become an ideology and common sense."
A sufficiently well-written novel can, in itself, serve as a basis equivalent to a professional text.
"Yes. I understand. But my heart—"
"Think about the reader more than your heart."
Talent is like a ball of fire; sometimes it blazes out of control. It's not easy to keep a firm grip on it.
However, I have no intention of tolerating their self-indulgence.
They may revere or praise me, but the foundation of that must ultimately be fear and awe.
"Writing is judged solely as writing. No one cares about your heart."
"...Yes."
Johann nodded quietly.
"Good. However, the reason I called you isn't just because of this manuscript."
I cleared the manuscript away. In its place, I laid out other documents. They were papers Johann had written during his student days.
"Your ideas were excellent."
"Ah... thank you!"
Johann's face instantly filled with emotion.
"First, let's talk in detail about this concept of 'Withholding Tax'."
"Yes. It's something I developed from content I vaguely recall reading in an academic journal...."
Johann's gaze changed in that instant.
The sharp look I had only seen from a distance in the past was revived.
"The Empire naturally needs taxes. However, they must be used solely for the Aran people and must not become a source of pain for them."
Conviction filled his voice.
"To achieve that, taxes for these three fields—medical, pension, and unemployment—are withheld before the worker receives their paycheck."
"Does that make it not painful?"
"...Sir Knight, I once gave some children chocolates."
There was a strange power in Johann's words.
"If you give a child a whole chocolate and then take away the remaining third after they've eaten two-thirds, the child cries. Because they believe something of theirs was stolen."
Was his talent affecting me as well?
I found myself focusing on him unconsciously.
"But if you only give them two-thirds from the start and say 'this is your share,' the child receives it with gratitude. Because the other third was never theirs to begin with."
It was content the New Cabinet had already deconstructed and analyzed, but I listened quietly.
"The essence ultimately stems from the perception of 'ownership.' The pain of having one's own things taken away. Withholding tax anesthetizes that pain. Because people come to think it wasn't theirs from the start."
The ability to delve into the psychology of the masses and guide them in the direction the state desires.
"However, there is one more thing I would like to recommend to you, Sir Knight."
"...Only to me?"
"Yes. Establish a labor union and collect membership fees. You own many businesses and are more faithful than anyone else, so there seems to be no need to leave control to the Empire. Under your name, you must create a labor union for the Aran people alone and bind them together."
If Dieter handled numbers efficiently to maximize profit, Johann delved into the influence those numbers had on the human heart.
He was a superlative talent.
"Johann. I intend to propose your policy to the Council of State."
The Council of State.
The opportunity to draft new laws during this spring—in other words, the chance to change the Empire.
Johann's expression went blank upon hearing those words.
"...Pardon?"
"However, since tax issues are very sensitive...."
I handed him a blank sheet of paper.
"I want to leave the script to you."
A genius of propaganda. The pen nib that had once unified the Empire with devilish prose.
In this life, I intended to make use of his capabilities myself.
*
...A dark night.
Yukia stood leaning against the window frame of her quarters. A cold wind blew in, but the agony burning inside her did not cool. Rather, it seethed like a forest fire.
That day.
In the car with just the two of them, on the road.
The moment the truck charged toward them.
She had turned the wheel and saved Maximilian.
She had defied the orders of the Revolutionary Group.
'Was it a mistake?'
Should she have killed him then?
She sighed and lowered her head.
'Not a trivial person.'
Maximilian's single comment about her not being trivial had made her miss a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Now, such a moment might never come again.
"Haa...."
Rustle.
Suddenly, a bird flew in through the darkness. A ghostly flight, without even the sound of flapping wings.
"...An owl?"
It wasn't the owl from last time. The creature sat on the windowsill and glared at Yukia with yellow eyes. A small piece of paper was tied to its ankle.
Yukia took out the note.
[ ◆◇◆◆◇◇◆◇... ]
She decoded the cipher in her head.
[ The last Friday of April. ]
[ If you have not betrayed us, come to this place. ]
She stared intently at those words.
....
A fishing spot shrouded in dawn mist.
I sat in a chair, staring at the float bobbing on the water's surface.
"...It has been confirmed."
An informant from Chiron approached at some point.
He reported in a somewhat excited tone.
"That person has agreed to come out. It's a first for me too. I suppose, given the amount of money involved—"
"The date?"
"...See for yourself."
The informant placed a sealed envelope on top of the tackle box.
Inside was a small note with the meeting place, time, and countersign.
"They say they are coming with the most certain evidence."
"—In that case."
I pulled out a small card.
"This is the card for a vault containing ten million dollars."
A black metal card with no fancy decorations or inscriptions. The key to a VVIP secret vault at "Kronen Schatzinsel."
The informant swallowed hard.
"Tell them I will be there with the most certain reward."
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