The Gates of Hell
A maiden gifted with dusky blonde hair and sharp, intellectual beauty, Amber Hyde was passing the hours in a salon, as was her daily custom.
A regular social retreat for the nobility, the salon had been introduced two generations ago by an otherworldly Hero who had advocated for spaces to debate literature and philosophy. By now, however, it was regarded as nothing more than a parlor where aristocrats sipped tea and cultivated pleasant acquaintances. Setting aside the social barrier that kept commoners out, it was relatively inexpensive.
Amber had sought solace here since her youth. A salon was one of the few places where she could truly feel like a noblewoman. With so many young women in similar circumstances frequenting the establishment, no one had ever treated her as an oddity.
Lately, however, her visits served a slightly altered purpose. Previously, she had come to voyeuristically observe the social maneuverings of high society; now, she came purely to read. And not merely keeping a book open as a fashionable prop because sitting idle felt awkward—she read with clear, deliberate intent.
Such was the title of the volume spread open before her.
It was hardly a work one read for pleasure. It compiled the bare minimum administrative skills required of an entry-level bureaucrat working in the Empire's public agencies. High-ranking officials were naturally recruited from the Imperial Academy's Department of Public Administration, but routine clerks were hired through simple civil examinations.
Amber's studying was aimed squarely at employment. It was not self-motivated, but born from her father's quiet urging.
"Amber, your future... You can't idle at home forever, can you? It would be far better to have your name registered somewhere, even in a minor post."
"If you meet the basic qualifications, I can place you somewhere close to home, like the local tax bureau. Your father still has that much pull."
Her father, who doted upon her dearly, had not urged her to seek employment simply to bring home a wage.
He suggested it so I can find another suitor more easily, she mused.
Men across the Empire were no fools; they tended to shun women who stayed home and let the years pile on without doing a thing. People gossiped easily: "Could she really have spent all that time alone?" Her virtue would be questioned. No matter how stunning her looks, beauty alone was never enough. Holding a respectable post, however, would give her a graceful excuse for the gap.
Grasping her father's intentions, Amber had relented.
Of course, the lingering trauma of the broken engagement still made the words blur before her eyes. Even so, holding a book and jotting down notes was far better than staring blankly at the ceiling at home.
If I become a civil clerk, I might have to share an office with commoners—maybe even ones younger than me. ...Not that I'm in any position to be picky right now.
Half her time went to reading, the other half to sighs and brooding. Eventually, she stopped turning the pages altogether.
It was then that a commotion shattered the salon's quiet.
"Ugh, opening delayed? What kind of bullshit is this?"
"They said it's delayed a few hours for facility maintenance. Something probably broke down."
"You believe that flimsy excuse? Don't run your mouth just because you don't have skin in Kodana!"
"Watch your tone, will you? I only tagged along because I was worried about you."
A rowdy group of what appeared to be Academy students trooped in, their voices loud and grating. Judging by their solid builds, they hailed from the Knight Faculty.
Half looked agitated; the other half were busy trying to calm them down. One student seemed entirely detached, mumbling, "Today's swordsmanship class, though... I can't afford to miss it," even while everyone else sweated bullets.
Why are Academy students here at this hour?
Since her studying was stalled anyway, Amber pricked up her ears. Her hearing had always been exceptionally sharp.
"...It might not be as bad as you think, so stop panicking. Up until now, it's just suspicious circumstances."
"Suspicious? Didn't you hear that three Black Iron Knights were slaughtered? What kind of lizardman kills three Experts in one stroke? It's obvious! The Beast King is alive!"
"Shut your damn trap! Are you saying the Hero lied?"
"What else could it be?!"
A false... report?
Amber gasped, the pen slipping from her fingers.
She had always kept close tabs on the Hero Party's exploits. It was not merely because of her former fiancé; every resident in the Imperial Capital followed their deeds with bated breath, knowing the party's campaigns directly dictated the Empire's security.
Just recently, the entire capital had erupted with joy at the news that the Hero had slain the Beast King and that subjugating the Demon King was within sight. Why would the Beast King, officially declared dead, reappear?
Amber blinked in bewilderment. She simply could not fathom the Hero delivering a false report.
Regardless of her disbelief, the students argued on.
"Phew... Wouldn't it be better to wait in front of the exchange instead of wasting time in a salon?"
"Besides, skipping lectures like this doesn't sit right with me."
"Don't sweat it. Most of the professors hold a coin or two themselves. There probably isn't a single proper lecture running today anyway. ...I heard Professor Weber from the Magic Faculty took an advance on his pension to buy four. He must be having a stroke right about now."
"Think it'll drop down to... 320 million today? Still, given how steadily it climbed step by step, it won't just fall off a cliff, right?"
Listening to their chatter, Amber could feel an unsettling shift in the air.
The Imperial Academy had responded to the Kodana market with more fervor than any other institution. The Hero Party's swordswoman and grand mage were Academy graduates, and vast numbers of students idolized the party. Hailing from noble bloodlines, they easily possessed the means to purchase a coin or two.
Rumor had it that nearly thirty percent of the entire student body had invested in Kodana. It was not something to brush off as the mere babble of young students.
Kodana could crash...? No, that's impossible. Surely.
The Kodana market's history was brief. And throughout that span, Kodana had traced an unrelenting upward trajectory, soaring higher and higher without pause. Even when it occasionally plateaued, the lull never lasted long; the moment newspapers trumpeted another triumph by the Hero Party, fresh investors swarmed in.
Kodana will keep rising until the Demon King is slain.
That belief had rooted itself deeply in the public consciousness.
Yet that very belief was shuddering for the first time. The delayed opening of the Kodana Exchange was undeniable proof of that swelling distrust.
Something ominous and indefinable loomed. Even Amber, sitting in a salon with an introductory cameralism manual spread open before her, felt the chill on her skin.
At the Kodana Exchange.
The executives and staff sat in a circle, their faces steeped in dread.
By rule, the Kodana Exchange opened its doors around nine in the morning. Today, however, the opening had been pushed back until nearly noon. Although they cited "facility maintenance" as their justification, not a single soul believed it.
The staff were well aware that delaying the opening like this would bring down a shower of curses upon their heads. But today, they had no choice. Opening the doors without a plan threatened a disaster beyond imagining.
Of course, stalling the opening did not forge an escape route.
"Huu... Are there many people outside?"
"Yes. We just checked—over three hundred have gathered. ...Honestly, if we only count numbers, it isn't absurdly high..."
"The headcount isn't the problem! It's what kind of orders they'll place. It's driving me crazy."
"Sir, you have to open soon. We can't stall any longer."
Delaying a few more hours might not seem catastrophic on paper, but the real issue was the identity of those waiting anxiously outside.
Nobles, noble-born high officials, and military officers. Or low-born yet immensely wealthy quasi-nobles and commoner merchant magnates who had built fortunes running merchant cartels. Even the ordinary folk among them were established proprietors or men of the law.
They were all gathered outside, jostling and muttering in agitation.
The survival of the Beast King, the Hero's false report, and the colossal off-market transaction between the Holy Kingdom and the Second Prince...
The Kodana Exchange was admittedly an egalitarian arena where the Minister of Justice and the Deputy Commander of the Imperial Guard might bump shoulders, but keeping such people standing in line outside for hours on end was unacceptable.
"What about the Imperial Palace? And the Hero? Still no word?"
"Well... The palace has only released a statement saying they're contacting the Hero to verify the facts. And it seems the off-market transaction was done by the Second Prince acting alone. ...The Court Department appears completely blindsided."
"Haah..."
Turmoil had clearly engulfed the Imperial Palace as well.
In the end, the head of the exchange had no choice but to throw in the towel. After posting an announcement that facility maintenance was complete, he cautiously unbolted the doors, praying desperately that a crisis beyond his control would not unfold.
Fortunately, no riot broke out upon opening.
The crowd was visibly unsettled, but they were not thrashing about in a frenzy—yet. They merely swarmed the transaction counters with frantic expressions.
The peace, however, was fleeting.
"Sell two, on the spot."
"Yesterday's closing price was 380 million, wasn't it? Put in a sell order for five at that price."
Every single patron entering the exchange wanted to sell. An unbroken queue formed of people desperate to cash out at yesterday's close.
Sixty coins. One hundred and five coins. One hundred and thirty-eight coins.
The backlog of unsold orders stacked up at terrifying speed. One seller, desperate to liquidate immediately, dumped a coin onto the counter at 370 million liras.
Yet there were no buyers. Not a single one.
The faces of the staff processing the orders hardened like stone.
Normally, when sell orders piled up, clerks would exercise their judgment to find an equilibrium between supply and demand, gently guiding clients to lower their asking prices. In ordinary times, shaving off ten million liras would instantly coax buyers out of the woodwork.
Now, however, no one knew how low the price had to drop to find a single buyer.
Three hundred and sixty million? Three hundred and fifty? Three hundred and forty?
Or perhaps—
Investors turned pale, exchanging hollow glances. They looked at one another as if seeking confirmation that their neighbors harbored the exact same terror.
No one offered an answer, but none was needed. They could all feel it deep in their marrow.
"...No. Stop."
A young noble wheezed out the plea like a dying groan. But it was far too late to stop. A concept that had never before existed in the history of the Kodana market had finally reared its head.
It was a crash.