Chapter 412
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 412
Chapter Title: Thinking of the Greater Good.
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In all her life up to now, Ekaterina had rarely ever faced a shortage of money.
It was only natural.
As long as the economy didn't collapse...
No, even if the world economy crumbled to dust, her fortune would never run dry.
She was the Great Khan of the Russian Khanate, whose wealth grew just by breathing, and the Silver Dragon Princess who commanded Bahamut. That was the kind of existence she was.
...Man, you really do see all sorts of things the longer you live in this world.
And so, in this moment.
Ekaterina could only stare blankly at the balance sheet riddled with deficits.
I never imagined that kid would stab me in the back like this.
This wasn't some tiny backwater nation.
The national budget of the Russian Khanate, boasting an economy second only to the United States, had been blown through in just a few days.
Thanks to that, Ekaterina—who was seeing an empty national treasury for the first time in her life—felt not just astonishment but even a twisted sense of amusement.
Unfortunately, though, not everyone shared her particular brand of madness.
"You're saying the national treasury was squandered on buying books and games, and hiring orchestras and singers...?"
"That includes the costs for building racetracks and amusement arcades, sir."
"Does that even make sense?!"
"Whether it makes sense or not, it's the reality, sir."
In truth, there had been a bit of foul play involved.
Not only bulk purchases but even used goods.
Ainsha had bought items that should have come with hefty discounts at full price, slapping on express fees and premiums to boot.
When hiring people, she insisted on rush jobs with long-term contracts, paying them several to dozens of times the normal rate.
A complete sucker move, one you'd only see once in a lifetime.
But considering that most of that money flowed back to Tiamat under the guise of commissions?
It meant the Russian government was footing the entire bill.
The problem was that, thanks to sparking a revolution at just this timing, the Soviet Federation had inherited that bill in full.
If it were coincidence, it would be an astonishing stroke of misfortune...
But there's no way it was a coincidence.
Ekaterina was certain.
Ainsha had foreseen even this revolution's timing and orchestrated everything accordingly.
For starters, just looking at the inventory she'd left behind showed how meticulously planned her escape had been.
"Th-then, if we refund those purchases..."
"Sadly, that would only deepen the losses, sir."
"Why?!"
"Because anything worth a decent chunk of change was all taken when the kids bolted, sir."
Not just jewels and gold.
All sorts of easily liquidated items.
Even the cultural artifacts that had been there originally.
In just a few days, Ainsha had siphoned off every asset that could be turned into cash.
Not even the Gold Dragon Clan or Black Dragon Clan—let alone her own Silver Dragon Clan—could pull off such a feat in so short a time.
It was possible only for the White Dragon Clan, who could foresee the future to craft a perfect escape plan and had centuries of know-how in fleeing.
"What's left wouldn't fetch more than pocket change if sold, and canceling contracts with orchestras or celebrities would just mean paying penalties instead."
"...So in the end, this country doesn't have a single penny left?"
"We do have a mountain of debt, sir."
"That's even worse..."
Just yesterday, he'd been celebrating the revolution's success.
Now saddled with national-budget-scale debt to resolve, Bakhmensky groaned.
But that lament was short-lived.
True to his status as an elite researcher, he racked his brain for solutions.
"How about issuing government bonds? If we can just weather this crisis, we could approach other countries for loans..."
"You think any country would buy bonds from a government that popped up just the other day, in national-budget amounts?"
"Th-then we'll borrow from revolutionary forces and collaborators in other regions."
"They're all screaming about being broke too, sir."
And that idea crashed and burned.
It was only natural.
There was no way Sergei or Ekaterina hadn't thought of anything Bakhmensky could come up with.
In fact, they'd reviewed several such options.
The problem was that every single one was blocked.
Countries that might lend money were already shaking their heads after snapping up masses of Russian bonds.
Revolutionary groups in other regions had their funding suddenly cut off by sponsors and were begging the Soviet Federation for support instead.
As if someone had seen all their countermeasures and sabotaged them in advance.
It was a mountain of insurmountable obstacles.
A hopeless situation.
At least until Sergei finally spoke up.
"No helping it, then. We'll have the factory owners and entrepreneurs still in Moscow chip in funds."
"Gathering that much by having them contribute a little each time? Impossible, surely?"
"If it's short, we'll collect more. In exchange, promise them ample tax breaks and perks down the line."
"That would...!"
"Redistributing wealth was something we had to do eventually. Just think of it as the schedule being moved up."
Bakhmensky's face darkened.
The revolutionary forces' original wealth redistribution plan was a long-term affair—spanning years at the fastest, a decade or more at the longest.
They'd had no intention of strong-arming the existing wealthy class for funds right after the revolution, precisely to avoid problems.
Whether he sensed that worry or not.
Sergei added gravely,
"And we need to get the factories running normally again."
A good chunk of the current issues stemmed from the factories being at a standstill.
Sergei's claim that normalizing them would calm the chaos and secure funds was perfectly reasonable.
The issue was how to make it happen.
"...With the Central Supervisory Board gone and labor points meaningless, will the people even show up to the factories?"
"For now, we'll take over the Central Supervisory Board's duties and assign labor points ourselves."
"You're saying we'll keep the labor points system?"
"Scrapping it now would only amplify the chaos, so we'll maintain it until things stabilize."
"I see..."
Bakhmensky's expression grew even more complicated.
Labor points were the core of the labor allocation system, one of the most urgently needed reforms alongside the class ranks.
Yet here they were, having pulled off a revolution only to maintain it—a reality that troubled him deeply.
And Sergei's words weren't over yet.
"It's not set in stone, but we're also considering extending citizens' working hours."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Have you forgotten? We may have driven out the dictator, but we haven't toppled the dictatorship."
The revolutionaries had seized Moscow, the heart of Russia.
But that was it.
The Soviet Federation's influence was limited to Moscow's vicinity, while most of Russian territory remained under Silver Dragon Clan control.
It was only natural.
Their victory had been handed to them when Ainsha fled.
That allowed a bloodless revolution, but it left the dictator's army intact.
"I don't know why she ran, but that dictator won't stay quiet forever. They could march on Moscow to retake it tomorrow."
"...We'll need massive military supplies."
"Funds and troops too."
Whether to defend the nation.
Or to support revolutionaries elsewhere.
The Soviet Federation lacked everything needed to face the Russian Khanate, which still ruled over more than 400 million people.
To bridge that gap, sacrifices were unavoidable.
Not just from the revolutionaries, but from every soul in Moscow now under the Soviet Federation.
"The citizens will push back hard."
"No choice. If we don't, we'll lose the country we just reclaimed."
"..."
"Think of the greater good. If everyone sacrifices just a little until we topple that dictator, our brothers and sisters across Russia will regain their freedom."
"Understood."
In the end, Bakhmensky bowed his head with a sigh.
With over 400 million people still groaning under dictatorship, they couldn't stop the revolution here.
More than that, he believed.
The Moscow citizens who had cheered the Soviet's revival alongside them would accept this much.
Lamenting their powerlessness to share the pain with the people, he still gathered the other revolutionary leaders as Sergei wished.
But he didn't know.
The white-haired girl beside Sergei was watching them with a sly smile.
And so, the next day.
The Soviet Federation's national operations began.
"You want me to be factory manager?"
"Yes. Our investigation showed you have the longest tenure here among our comrades, and the most respect. So we figured you were the right fit."
"Glad you think so, but... is this really okay?"
"You said you could run the factory blindfolded, didn't you?"
"Not saying I can't. At least I'd do better than the last guy, who just lounged in his office year-round before fleeing."
"That's plenty."
"Hm... Nothing else besides factory manager duties?"
"Yes. Just operate the factory according to the Federation's directives from now on."
"Well, that's no big deal. I'll make this the top factory in Moscow."
Once decisions were made, the Soviet Federation's revolutionary government moved swiftly.
Appointing new factory managers.
Issuing appropriate shipments.
Providing missing parts, and so on.
They dove straight into normalizing factory operations.
On top of filling the Central Supervisory Board's vacancies with revolutionaries and pledging to maintain the labor points system.
They rolled out additional policies across the board to calm the citizens' unrest.
"What? I thought the labor allocation system was going away."
"Better than shutting down the factories right away."
"Thought all my saved points were gone, but they say we can cash them out later. Lucky."
Thanks to their efforts, the citizens regained some semblance of stability.
Of course, some grumbled about upholding the old system after sparking a revolution.
But hearing it was temporary, with a fairer, freer system to come later, they swallowed their complaints.
Having cheered the revolutionary government just yesterday, they appreciated the effort to resolve the crisis.
Weeeeng.
Clank, clank.
With factories humming back to life.
And workers returning to their shifts.
Moscow, plunged into chaos, returned to normal.
...At least on the surface.
But inside those very factories, all sorts of big and small problems began cropping up.
"Line 1 stopped?"
"Yeah, Uncle. The auto-welder broke down. Looks like we need repairs."
"Won't that take time?"
"They said quickest is three to four days."
"Good grief! You gonna idle a whole line for days? We have mountains of shipments due now!"
"What can we do when the auto-welder's busted?"
"What do you mean? Just weld it by hand."
"Huh???"
"Why the long face? That used to be all manual anyway."
"That was back in your young days, Uncle. Plus, one auto-welder does the work of ten people. How?"
"That's 'cause you kids lack grit! Back in my day, I'd grit my teeth and handle that workload solo!"
"No way, that's impossible..."
"Do it! I'm the manager now, got it? And call me Factory Manager from now on!"
Shipments going to the wrong places.
Product quality dropping.
No breaks given, and more.
These lifelong factory floor veterans, elevated to managers purely on revolutionary respect, stumbled through endless trial and error.
But that was just child's play.
The real crisis brewed with those managing labor points in place of the Central Supervisory Board.