Chapter 41
Chapter 41
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 41
Chapter Title: The Villain's Work
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A Villain's Job
Gifts and Options.
Just hearing the names makes them sound like terrifying speculative products,
but in truth, the reason these products exist is to reduce the risks stemming from uncertainty.
The future is unknowable.
And in the field of farming, the one who bears that 'risk' entirely is the 'farm owner'.
A farm might have an especially bountiful harvest one year,
or bear no fruit at all the next.
Natural disasters might strike suddenly,
or pests and diseases could ravage the crops.
Other farms might rush into growing a particular crop, causing prices to plummet,
or some new product like tofu could be invented, sending prices skyrocketing.
All of these are risks in farming,
and that's why farming is no different from gambling on the vast gambling table called 'nature'.
And then.
Futures and options turn these 'risks' into tradable products.
They're shifting some of the stakes from the farm's gambling table to the market.
"If used properly, they become a great tool for managing risk."
"...Do you really think the people trading on the securities exchange care about 'risk'? All they see is how bigger risks mean bigger returns."
"Well, that's too bad for them. They have to bear the responsibility for their own trades."
Of course, futures and options are definitely 'speculative products' in the securities market.
At least futures have an actual 'pre-contracted item',
but options are just coupon scraps without even a physical asset.
If the goal is ultimately to take possession of the goods, options are a fine risk management tool,
but if used for speculation, they're nothing more than lottery tickets that can drop to zero value at any moment.
That's just gambling.
And all the responsibility lies with the individual.
It's plain 'common sense' that you shouldn't bet your entire fortune on lottery tickets.
Anyone buying lottery tickets as an 'investment' is out of their mind.
Even by 21st-century South Korean standards.
"Anyway, it's not a bad thing for us, right?"
"...True enough."
Farms, trading companies, securities exchange.
We own them all.
In other words, we manage various risks through these financial products
and just collect the fees.
"Oh, and make exchange accounts for the slaves too."
"Pardon?"
"I told you. We're going to teach them economics."
"You're going to have the slaves... make money directly on the exchange?"
"No. What money do the slaves even have?"
I do exchange talants for them every time they go out,
but it's pocket change at best.
Money that vanishes after a single night of fun—what kind of investing can you do with that?
That's no way to learn.
At the very least, I'll fund their accounts enough for proper trades.
"The accounts will be run with my money. So it's like... simulated investing."
"...With actual cash?"
"Yeah. As long as they don't get liquidated, the money in the account won't just vanish, right? It's my money anyway. If a slave makes a profit, great."
Simulated investing with real cash.
Once these new financial products take off successfully,
we'll rake in massive fees,
so we can afford to invest that much in teaching the slaves.
Capitalism is cold.
That's why we prepare in advance.
"But there need to be rewards and punishments based on their simulated investment performance. Without motivation, they'll just blow the money recklessly."
"Understood. I'll discuss it with the instructors and prepare."
You never know.
Maybe one of the slaves has a real talent for investing and grows my money for me.
"And the most important part."
"Yes."
"Those companies that swallowed up the traitors after the Empire dealt with them?"
"...Yes."
In an instant, Torsso's demeanor changed.
Having handed over all the treasurer's assets due to the Empire's schemes,
just thinking about it must make his teeth grind.
"Prepare a bomb to dump on those companies, tying in our new financial and insurance products nicely."
"A bomb...?"
"Yeah. Just matching them is no fun, right?"
Anyway, the Imperial Family won't run the absorbed businesses directly.
They just own them,
and the managers bear the losses.
So even if the businesses take some 'overly aggressive' actions in pursuit of profit and incur losses,
the Imperial Family won't hold us accountable.
They'll just replace the managers and move on.
"...Will openly digging a pit like that work? Even if they're new products, those guys have a much deeper history in finance than we do. Their experts will spot the risks right away."
"Well, normally, yeah."
Just because certain financial products haven't been developed yet
doesn't mean the financiers of this world are idiots.
On the contrary, with their depth of experience, they probably understand products far better than I do, having only studied stocks and derivatives from a few books.
Take Torsso—he grasped the risks inherent in these products the moment I explained the concepts.
Ultimately, it requires exquisitely designing products that delicately balance risk and desire,
and in that area,
they're superior to us.
That's why.
We have a 'cheat key'.
"We have the Empire's greatest con artist on our side."
The top-tier con artist, Kraus.
This time too,
he'll be in charge of this venture.
"The con artist... You mean the circus ringmaster?"
"Yeah. Him."
"...I didn't know that con artist had any expertise in financial products."
"He doesn't."
"Pardon?"
How would he know complex financial products?
As a con artist, he understands the laws and concepts,
but he's no expert.
"He's probably lacking in financial product knowledge."
"..."
"We'll need to assign him the Empire's top financial product designer and top insurance designer. He'll figure out how to use them well."
"Hm. Then why bother with the con artist at all? Why not just hand it to the experts?"
"Kraus may lack understanding of finance... but his grasp of human desire and stupidity surpasses any designer. Probably better than any scholar in the Empire."
"...That good?"
Torsso tilted his head.
He couldn't quite grasp why I held Kraus in such high regard.
Of course, after seeing him pathetically squeezed in the underground dungeon, it's understandable he'd lack trust,
but without my 'original knowledge', capturing Kraus would have been impossible.
In the original story, the hero just killed Kraus outright when things got inconvenient, earning all sorts of criticism and slander.
It led to a flood of comments calling it a frustrating plot twist.
Personally, I think it was a necessary episode,
as it solidified the hero's character as someone who presses forward silently, unrecognized by the masses.
Of course, now that he's my subordinate,
there won't be any of that frustrating development.
"Just give it to him. He'll do well."
"...Understood."
He still looked skeptical...
Eh.
We'll see.
The Empire's greatest con artist.
Now called the 'circus ringmaster', Kraus
found his current life immensely satisfying.
Born with a natural talent for deceiving others,
he wasn't particularly handy,
nor did he have an eye for spotting lucrative opportunities,
and his body was frailer than most.
The only way he could make money was by fooling people,
so he'd lived his life scamming others.
Betraying others' trust was the curse he was born with to survive.
But now, things were different.
"Hello! Ringmaster!"
"Nice to see you, little gentleman. Do you have something to tell me?"
"Um, I wanted to give you this!"
"...What a lovely flower."
"Hehe. When I grow up, I want to make a show as cool as the circus!"
"Thank you. I'm sure you'll create an amazing show."
He received countless flowers and letters from children.
Scholars and artists competed to invite him to their galleries.
He was the Empire's most beloved figure among children,
the most avant-garde artist,
and in His Excellency's words, the greatest showman.
A satisfying life.
A dreamlike life.
A happy, fulfilling life he'd never even dared to dream of.
"...Con artist. Why that look on your face?"
"Ah, Crouch. My brother."
"Don't call me your brother, you con man."
"Haha."
"So, why the long face?"
"Long face?"
"Yeah. You look like you're about to drop dead."
"...Huh?"
At the soldier Crouch's words,
the con artist Kraus made a slightly surprised expression.
"...Can you read this man's expressions?"
"After months together, how could I miss something like that?"
"..."
"So, what's wrong?"
"Hm. Nothing much. Just... this life is so peaceful and comfortable that it feels a bit boring."
"What a luxurious complaint."
"Haha. Is it? Yeah, I suppose so."
As the circus ringmaster, he was a merchant selling illusions.
It was a castle built on capital.
The elaborate stage props, the acrobats' winged costumes, the great heroes and vile villains—
all meticulously crafted fakes.
While others lost themselves in the illusions, enraptured,
he saw the cold clockwork mechanisms and the acrobats' scars.
Boring.
It was shameful toward the children who gave him letters and flowers,
but the circus was dull.
At least to 'con artist' Kraus.
"It's so boring I could die."
And
the soldier watched the con artist Kraus, who voiced such sentiments,
with a peculiar expression.
"...As expected, His Excellency sees through everything."
"Hm?"
"His Excellency has entrusted you with a job."
"A job?"
"Yes."
The soldier pulled a document from his breast pocket and handed it to the con artist.
"Time to return to your true calling for a bit."
"..."
The con artist took the document
and read its contents with lifeless eyes.
And then.
Sentence by sentence,
as the con artist's gaze traveled downward,
a spark began to flicker in his eyes.
Eyes sparkling with the pure longing of a child seeing the circus.
"Haha..."
Only then
could the con artist finally look inward at his own heart.
No.
It was closer to 'desire' than 'heart'.
Even the most warm-hearted person
sometimes craves to satisfy those base desires lurking at the bottom.
"Hahaha!"
The con artist—Kraus, in truth—
wanted to fleece someone down to their soul!
"As expected, a villain needs a villain's work..."
A being who fulfills not just the loftiest aspirations
but even the basest desires.
The master of souls.
In that moment, Kraus pledged his heartfelt loyalty to the count.
There may be nothing more fleeting than a con artist's loyalty—
but this one would surely endure until he was laid in his grave.