Dead Cat Bounce
The Kodana Exchange in the Imperial Capital.
Once an institution that symbolized the very wealth of the Empire, it had recently degenerated into a public punching bag despised by every corner of the ruling class. Ever since the revelation of the Beast King's survival, an endless nightmare had engulfed the place. For weeks, the exchange's employees had lived under constant fear for their very lives.
In all fairness, common sense dictated that the staff had done nothing wrong. They merely processed buy and sell orders mechanically, matching supply with demand and adjusting price quotes as the market dictated. The catastrophic drop in value could hardly be blamed on the clerks stamping the order slips.
Yet in the Kodana market, common sense had long ceased to exist.
"You son of a bitch! You were the one who told me to lower my asking price and resubmit! If I'd waited just one lousy hour, I could've walked away with eight million more!"
"P-Please, Lord Viscount. Calm yourself—"
"Why? You think the market's going under soon, so you're trying to milk trading fees while you still can, is that it?!"
"Did you just smirk while rewriting the board? You think we look like beggars just because we're camped out here all day?!"
"G-Good heavens, sir, never! I didn't laugh, I swear."
"You're smiling right now! Think this is funny? Is this a joke to you?!"
Hysterical investors kept watch over the staff from dawn to dusk, ready to pounce without mercy the instant they found the slightest fault. One might wonder why security didn't simply throw out these disruptive patrons by force, but that was utterly impossible.
Most of the exchange's employees were former clerks from the Imperial Bank or the Merchant Union—quasi-nobles at best, but mostly commoners. In stark contrast, the vast majority of the belligerents making scenes were highborn elites. Regardless of how anxious and financially ruined they were from being caught in the crash, their aristocratic authority had not evaporated overnight. On occasion, some went so far as to weaponize that status to coerce the staff directly.
"You work the teller counter, don't you? Senior clerk, if I'm not mistaken."
"E-Excuse me, sir... showing up at my private home... how did you even find out where I live?"
"The moment the bell rings tomorrow morning, clear my sell orders before anyone else's. I need to get out now."
"I'm terribly sorry, my lord, but trades are processed strictly in the order they're received—"
"Your younger brother serves in the Imperial Guard, doesn't he? I happen to be the vice-commander of the Fourth Regiment."
Subjected to such blatant intimidation, the clerks' mental health was fraying at the seams. Quitting such a toxic workplace would have been the sensible choice, but even that was easier said than done. In the current climate, what respectable institution would ever hire someone tainted by the Kodana Exchange?
Yet today, the atmosphere inside the hall was surprisingly warm for once.
A persistent rumor had been making the rounds that an official inquiry into the Second Prince would begin late this afternoon, sparking a modest rebound in trading volume. Several investors, hastily leaping to conclusions, were already spinning their personal fantasies.
"Have you heard? Word is the Second Prince will buy back coins to take political responsibility and drive the price back up."
"Where did you hear that? Is it true?"
"Everyone in the know already has the scoop! Sure, the Hero shoulders the greatest blame for the crash, but the Second Prince's off-market dumping was just as disastrous an omen, wasn't it?"
"Oh! That makes a lot of sense!"
The nobleman who peddled the unsubstantiated rumor chuckled and scratched the back of his head. It had originally been concocted out of thin air by a petty baron from a backwater domain far from the capital, yet several surrounding investors nodded along, murmuring, "Could be..."
Rather than genuinely believing the rumor, there were simply too many people desperate to cling to anything. And that desperation was translating into actual buying pressure. Thanks to this temporary reprieve, the clerks were finally spared from being verbal punching bags and could perform their proper duties for once.
"Put me down for one coin. Might as well lower my average unit price while I can."
"Understood, sir. Your order has been matched at one hundred eighty-nine million liras."
"By the way, are ticks adjusted in units of one million now? A sensible decision. Ten million liras is no pocket change; my heart leaped every time it bounced around. Though about a year ago, moving in increments of a hundred thousand was standard."
"...Excuse me, sir? Kodana was issued less than a year ago."
"Don't split hairs. It just goes to show how turbulent this market has been, eh? Heh heh."
"...Haha."
A clerk and an investor exchanging lighthearted banter.
Even though the price was still sitting at less than half its all-time high, the tension in the room had noticeably slackened. People hadn't gone mad or attained spiritual enlightenment; rather, having tasted the absolute depths of despair, even a meager dead cat bounce provided immense psychological relief.
Compared to the bleak days spent staring at a trading board littered with hundreds of figurative corpses, this was practically heaven. The mere fact that Kodana was still being traded, that positive remarks were echoing through the exchange lobby, and that a gradual recovery felt conceivable—it was enough to rekindle hope across the entire trading floor.
Those who had recently bitten the bullet and cut their losses watched the spectacle with bitter sighs.
"Tsk. Did I sell too early? Should I get back in—"
"Good grief, have you lost your mind? Just walk away, dear."
"Fine, fine. Let's head back to the estate. It's not like we own a townhouse here, and we can't keep paying exorbitant hotel rates just to linger around."
"Let's go. And don't you ever look at another Kodana coin again."
While some defeated investors quietly packed their bags and left, those who stayed behind waited for the investigation to begin, managing their frayed nerves at the exchange, their offices, or their homes. An uneasy coexistence of dread and anticipation hung over the city.
"Fine weather today."
Flanked by two companions, I took a leisurely stroll through the Imperial Capital for the first time in a while. On one side walked Bingo, former administrative clerk of the Imperial Guard, and on the other walked Amelia, the maid who cooked and did laundry at my house. I wasn't parading them out of some noble vanity to display an entourage; I simply needed extra hands.
"Bingo. You take charge of running the soup kitchen in District 18 for now. If things get hairy, feel free to use my name."
"So you're saying I can call myself a vassal of Baron Wellesley?"
"What vassal? I don't even have a landed fief. Regardless, just keep the soup kitchen running properly. I received this title under the pretext of contributing to refugee relief, so I can't very well shut it down now."
"Understood. But... a soup kitchen? Wasn't it a swordsmanship clinic?"
Right. It had been a clinic. But not for the time being.
"Call it a soup kitchen for a while. My public excuse will be that getting pummeled in front of my own students dealt a grievous blow to my pride."
"Is that actually how you feel?"
"Nah, I'm completely fine. If anything, getting a personal lesson from the Commander sharpened my edge. It's just a performance for his benefit. Besides, I need to fatten those kids up before I can teach them anything anyway."
"......"
Bingo stared at me with a hollow expression before giving an agreeable nod.
Next, I turned to assign Amelia her task. I had decided to hire additional domestic staff beyond just her. My house was quite spacious. Having belonged to one of the wealthiest retired attorneys in the capital, it ranked among the largest properties in District 3. While it couldn't compare to the grand palaces in District 1 where imperial royals and high-ranking court nobles resided, expecting a single servant to manage it was unreasonable.
"Amelia. Do you happen to have any friends whose cooking—"
Before I could finish, someone abruptly stepped into my path, blocking our way.
Could this be someone with a bone to pick over Kodana?
I doubted anyone would openly antagonize me now that I held a title, but you never knew. When someone has their entire life savings trapped in a cratering asset, baron or not, reason goes out the window.
"Excuse me. You're... Sir Eric, correct? Forgive my intrusion, but may I ask you just one question?"
Judging by her demeanor, she wasn't looking to pick a fight.
A woman. Perhaps in her late thirties. She possessed attractive features and took good care of herself, yet beneath her makeup lingered the unmistakable wear of a turbulent life. Going by her slightly revealing attire and the languid aura of her mannerisms, she was almost certainly...
From the entertainment district.
Curious about what she could possibly want to ask, I humored her.
"Speak. What is it?"
"...The truth is, I'm a Kodana investor. Just a moment ago outside the exchange, I overheard some noblemen saying that once this investigation concludes, Kodana will surge again. ...I was wondering if you thought the same, Sir Eric."
"I already cashed out completely."
"I know, but still..."
She probably hoped that someone who successfully liquidated at the absolute peak possessed insider knowledge. As a former Imperial Guard knight who had rubbed shoulders with the Hero, it wasn't an unreasonable assumption.
In truth, I already had a good grasp of the 'facts' the Second Prince would be forced to confess. But I couldn't go blabbing that to just anyone. I had barely erected my own defenses; tearing them down myself would be sheer idiocy.
Still, brushing her off entirely felt petty. After a moment's contemplation, I decided to point her toward an escape hatch obliquely. Not out of pity—it was simply that, as long as my own interests weren't at stake, there was no need to be needlessly ruthless.
"What was your entry price?"
"One coin... at one hundred seventy million."
"You got in relatively early, then. Read the room and dump it now. Whether it bounces or not after the investigation ends, I doubt you'll get another chance to sell. When hundreds of people rush the counters, do you really think you can hold your ground in that mob?"
"......"
"During the crash, you couldn't even set foot inside the exchange, could you? And you certainly don't have the clout to trade over-the-counter. So just cut and run. Even after fees, you'll still pocket a decent profit."
"That... is true."
"Go."
I delivered the verdict dryly and turned away.
Glancing back over my shoulder as I walked, I saw her standing frozen, mulling over my words. Moments later, however, she hastened toward the exchange. Perhaps because her legs were longer than Bingo's, she didn't need to break into an ungainly sprint.
Well, she'll survive one way or another.
I took care of my errands as I strolled through the commercial district of the capital, which had regained a semblance of vitality after so long. I purchased elixirs, placed an order for cheese to hand out alongside bread to the paupers in District 18, and hired another servant. I even waved to my former colleague Celine when our paths crossed. She looked noticeably gaunt, likely worn down by hardships at the margraviate border.
Then, in the late afternoon—specifically, right after market close.
Word spread that the investigation of the Second Prince was about to begin. Professor Weber, who lived nearby, brought the news with a faintly flushed face.
At the vehement demand of the Arcknight Ducal House—a premier Kodana whale—and the Cardinal overseeing the capital diocese, the venue for the face-to-face interrogation had been set in the Imperial Chapel inside the palace. The Emperor, court ministers, and members of the imperial family were all scheduled to observe.
In effect, a public execution.
It was safe to assume the political verdict had already been cast.