Confiscation
The Hero's filthy mouth finally loosened.
He claimed he had begun trading Kodana before there was even an official market to speak of. Back when the commemorative coins were tucked quietly away in the private vaults and studies of individual aristocrats—back when Kodana was treated as nothing more than an eccentric novelty.
"I was actually spending my own money back then, you know? Well, technically it came straight out of the Second Prince’s pockets. To prove there was liquidity, I had no choice but to—ah, wait. If I explain it like that, can you even... understand me?"
When he trailed off, warily glancing up to gauge my reaction, I lifted the blade resting on the table before him just an inch.
The Hero flinched, shrinking back, and hurriedly resumed flapping his gums.
The method he had exploited from the start was nominee trading.
He would subjugate monsters plaguing remote provincial fiefs, package the news in slick propaganda—painting his comrades as a compassionate Hero Party that cared for the common folk, unlike previous generations who had campaigned exclusively in the Demonic Realm—broadcast those triumphs back to the Imperial Capital, and then engineer an artificial "demand" for Kodana right on cue.
"You remember, right? Back then, a few foreign nobles approached imperial aristocrats, begging for a chance to get their hands on some Kodana. Truth is, they were..."
"Hired shills doing your bidding."
"Yeah."
In the end, those early buyers of Kodana were merely running errands for the Second Prince and the Hero, planted solely to teach the nobility that Kodana was a tradeable asset with real market demand.
He claimed it hadn't even taken that much capital to pull off. A few hundred million liras at most.
‘So once the mood was set, the nobles swarmed in all on their own.’
According to the Hero, once the groundwork had been laid, everything proceeded like clockwork.
He coaxed the Second Prince into establishing an official exchange.
He recruited accomplices to facilitate skimming cash through nominee accounts.
And with the fortunes extracted that way, he funneled generous donations to the Holy Kingdom, mobilized the Holy Paladins, and padded his illustrious track record.
"Do you have any idea how much I donated to the Holy Papal Palace? ...I mean, not that I'm bragging or saying it was right, but essentially, they were mercenaries."
"Which is why you bled them dry without a shred of guilt."
Most of the Hero’s confession merely confirmed what I had already deduced.
The Court Department had caught wind of nominee trading as well. Several individuals presumed to have profited immensely from Kodana had maintained an unnervingly low profile. While some might have simply been lying low to read the room, others were undeniably nothing more than puppets dangling from the Hero's strings.
Yet even I hadn't imagined that the entire market had danced to the Hero's choreographed script from the very beginning.
‘Just how utterly contemptible did this bastard think we were?’
Ever since his summoning, "uncivilized barbarians" had been his favorite catchphrase, but this transcended mere condescension—he hadn't viewed us as human beings at all. If anyone other than me had presided over this Truth Room, a blade would have been buried in the Hero's gut long ago.
I tossed a pen and a sheet of paper onto the table with a dull clatter.
"Start by writing down every collaborator you used for nominee trading."
"If I write this..."
"Don't haggle for terms. Just write."
"Huh? R-Right... But, my right hand..."
Write with your left, then. When I kicked him in the shin to spur him along, the Hero began scrawling names in clumsy, crooked handwriting.
Even then, he wasn't doing so out of meek compliance.
Midway through, he suddenly gasped and wheezed, contorting in agony. It meant he had tried to slip in a lie or hold something back, only to trigger the penalty woven into the Geas Scroll's oath.
‘Unrepentant to the bitter end, aren't you?’
To help muster his courage, I drew my sword and pointed the tip directly at his crotch. Only then did the names begin flowing smoothly onto the parchment once more.
A moment later, the Hero offered up his list. The roster was colorful, to say the least.
First came the foreigners.
Several nobles from the Kingdom of Lesotona, the Microcia Archipelago, and the Inel Kingdom.
They were petty states the Empire had spared during its expansionist eras simply because they weren't worth the effort to conquer—a realm bordering the Grand Forest, an archipelago confederation of scattered isles, a nation perched amidst rugged mountains, and so on. Unlike the Holy Kingdom, which held diplomatic stature equal to the Empire, these were truly insignificant backwaters.
"Even those kingdoms have gold, after all."
Next came the Magic Tower.
Retired elders—gentlemen well past their seventies. There was even one rumored to be suffering from senile dementia. He had apparently wagered that senior mages possessed the wealth to buy in without raising eyebrows. And up until now, that assumption had held true.
Finally, there were imperial nobles.
One was a formerly distinguished house slowly spiraling into decline, and another was a family already so thoroughly impoverished that their standing was utterly diminished.
One of them was even connected to me by two or three degrees of separation.
Delirose County.
The lord served by Baron Hyde—the uncle of my former fiancée, Amber Hyde.
Effectively a complete stranger to me, though I had heard rumors roughly a decade ago that their lands were faltering due to dwindling yields. It had also been said that the current head of House Delirose had secluded himself indoors due to failing health.
‘It wouldn't have been hard to bring him to heel. Toss him a few scraps and borrow his name.’
None of this was particularly shocking.
What actually took me aback was...
"The House of Count Naze?"
"Yeah."
"Millia Naze's father?"
"Huh? No, of course not Count Naze himself! I used the Viscount's name—Count Naze's cousin. The amount was pretty small, too."
A distinction without a difference.
Count Naze had even briefly served as the figurehead director of the exchange, despite holding no real authority. Though he had long since resigned and holed up in his fief, keeping his head firmly buried in the dirt, the fact that he had served as director didn't simply vanish.
On top of that, he carried the scarlet letter of being the father of a Hero Party member. That alone had him branded as imperial scum, yet to think his family had been dragged into nominee trading as well.
"I thought you cared for your party members."
"That's why I didn't involve him directly! He's just her father's cousin, okay?"
His face wore a bewildered expression, as if asking what the big deal was.
He was only walking on eggshells because he was cornered; his fundamental perception hadn't changed in the slightest. To be blunt, I had neither the leisure to lecture him on morality nor the bandwidth to fret over the personal wellbeing of the Hero Party's members.
Now there was only one question left for the Hero.
"So. How much did you actually pocket in the end?"
In a sense, it was the single most vital question of all.
I didn't expect him to hold enough liquid cash to repair the catastrophe wrought by Kodana. Even I knew markets didn't function that way.
‘Still, how much we confiscate from this bastard will dictate how much we can stabilize the fallout.’
The Hero hesitated, unable to answer immediately.
Yet he couldn't hold out for long. Even now, the Geas Scroll's binding oath squeezed him like a vice. I had heard superhuman beings could overcome mana-forged oaths through sheer willpower, but the Hero possessed no such power. (Though, by all rights, a true Hero should have.)
"Don't test me, Hero. Do that, and someone far less patient will take over this interrogation. I can always invite the senior who operated on you."
"...!"
Cornered, the Hero finally confessed the total sum he held.
The instant the number left his lips, my fist drove straight into his face before I could even register the thought.
"Guhk!"
Clutching his shattered nose, the Hero rolled across the floor. Pitiable as it was, my fury didn't stem from the sum being impossibly large.
An hour later, the Hero lay unconscious, twitching faintly.
Before him sat a towering mound of assets dragged from his "Inventory" under my strict orders, with mages standing watch to ensure he didn't pull any sleight of hand.
First were the gold coins.
And not the standard 100,000-lira coins either, but massive, high-purity gold pieces valued at 1,000,000 liras each. Alongside them were gold leaf plates and heavy ingots reserved only for high-stakes, grand transactions.
An authority bestowed by the Goddess Herself—and this Hero had used that peerless, miraculous power solely as a personal safety deposit box.
‘Sure, it's a lot.’
It was a colossal fortune by any standard. Yet it fell pitifully short of the catastrophic losses felt across the continent by Kodana investors.
The gold coins and bullion alone amounted to around 45 billion liras, and even when factoring in the gemstones, antique coins, and assorted valuables, the total barely brushed 50 billion.
There were also numerous promissory drafts endorsed by the treasurers of individual noble houses, but those were nothing more than waste paper. Bank drafts backed by the Merchant Union Headquarters might have held value, but drafts drawn against personal noble estates were utterly worthless. Those houses were already ruined.
The members of the pursuit party who witnessed the seizure wore expressions of hollow disillusionment.
"Shouldn't there be at least a hundred billion in gold coins alone? No, far more than that?"
"..."
"Say something, Inspector. I caught bits and pieces, but couldn't hear clearly. He has more stashed away somewhere else, right?"
I kept my eyes shut for a long beat before finally opening them to speak.
"...First of all, he squandered an absurd amount on extravagance."
The sheer volume of gold he had burned through while indulging his harem and parading on his lavish crusade was staggering.
Furthermore, roughly four months ago, he had used an alias to purchase an entire private island in the Microcia Archipelago. Not as a safehouse or bolthole, mind you, but as a luxury retreat to settle down with his harem once the Demon King was defeated.
He mumbled something about wanting to build an "Ibiza Island," though what that meant was anyone's guess. I could only deduce it was some decadent playground dedicated to hedonism.
‘Insane bastard. Buying an island of all things.’
Even accounting for all that, the math still felt hollow.
And the reason had come straight from the Hero's own mouth: just because our perceived losses spanned hundreds of billions didn't mean he possessed hundreds of billions in physical gold. He had smugly added that a gold-standard economy was inherently vulnerable to market bubbles.
The pursuit squad listened to my explanation with blank, dazed stares.
"Which means, in the end...?"
"I took it to mean that while the damage is catastrophic, there is no way to recover the losses. He also mentioned that because our society lacks something called 'monetary policy,' responding to it is virtually impossible."
"...And the Hero popularized Kodana fully knowing that?"
"Yes. He claimed he never expected things to blow up to this scale, but there wasn't a trace of remorse on his face."
At those words, everyone turned their twisted, contorted gazes upon the unconscious Hero.
It was the exact moment they realized they had been thoroughly played for fools, yet no one rushed forward to beat the Hero senseless again. Because the emotion choking the room was far more complicated than simple anger.
...It was the chilling sensation of becoming ants inside a mound kicked apart by a cruel child. Or laboratory animals dissected in a Magic Tower workshop.
If my own stomach churned this vilely, I could only imagine how the others felt.
It was the Holy Kingdom’s delegation that broke the lingering silence.
Elder Priest Edin abruptly took the Saintess by the arm and marched out of the inn. The young bishop and the paladins fell into step behind him.
"...Elder Priest Edin. Please, accompany us to the Imperial Capital first."
I moved to stop him, but the old priest shook his head adamantly.
"No. We must return to the Holy Kingdom without a moment's delay."
"May I ask why?"
"We shall petition the Goddess. We will demand She strip that monster of his title as Hero, and revoke every single divine blessing She ever bestowed upon him. Every priest in the Holy Kingdom, alongside every devout believer, will gather in the Grand Cathedral to raise our voices in prayer."
In truth, the Goddess was not a deity who deigned to answer the everyday cries of Her clergy. People merely worshiped and trusted in Her grace because of tangible manifestations like the Saintess, the Holy Sword, divine power, and the Hero himself.
Of course, it wasn't as if the elder priest was ignorant of that reality.
Leaving behind those grim, tragic words, the elder priest stormed out into the yard and mounted his steed. The pale-faced Saintess was hoisted onto her horse by a paladin.
I watched their departing backs vanish into the distance, then turned my head to look over the remaining members.
The pursuit squad, as well as the members of the Hero’s harem, wore unreadable, shattered expressions. Even the elf, once the most defiant among them, seemed thoroughly shaken.
I ordered everyone to get whatever sleep they could. We would reach the Imperial Capital by tomorrow, I told them.
In truth, it was nowhere near a one-day ride, but I fully intended to drag us back to the capital by any means necessary. And as for what would come after that... there was no need to spell it out for the squad.