BCST 32

chapter 32

When the hearing ended,

The noisy, chaotic entry of the Imperial Guard, the disciplinary actions against me—
All of it faded away without a trace.

I later heard that the hearing committee had been very displeased with my long-winded speech (though it had come from my heart).

Suddenly, the Chair of the Imperial Senate, who had basically sentenced me to death, and Therion had fiercely taken my side.

I didn’t care.

“Because it felt good to get that off my chest.”

It felt as though all the built-up tension had been released at once.

However, I hadn’t anticipated that the aftermath would be this intense.

• “Prosecutor, do you know about Sir Arandil Drothein?”

• “Didn’t you discuss matters different from the Imperial Senate Chair?”

• “What is your relationship with Mr. Therion?”

A barrage of relentless questions came from the reporters.

Every day, reporters sat in front of the office like a thick spiderweb, making it impossible to even go to work.

• “Prosecutor, it’s Marian. I just can’t go to work. Even the owner of the restaurant we often go to for lunch says the reporters are driving him crazy.”

Marian called in a voice of exasperation.

However, I had already used up seven days of annual leave on sick leave, so giving more time off was difficult. Instead, I suggested:

“Want to swing by Chairman Dremson’s office?”

I proposed a little skip work disguised as an outside visit.

Through the magic stone communicator, I could see Marian’s puzzled expression.

“Ah! The hero of the Gilorian Empire has arrived!”

Chairman Dremson personally opened the door and greeted us warmly.

While Marian bowed politely to him, I slowly surveyed the office.

The decor was clean and minimalistic.
The office still prioritized efficiency above all.
On one side, plans for shareholder compensation were densely displayed.
It seemed the stock crash had been quite severe.

“Chairman, I apologize.”

I knew very well that my comments at the previous press conference, which seemed to attack Dremson’s company, had caused significant fluctuations in the stock price.

He appeared slightly tipsy.
Dremson’s cheeks were flushed red.
There was even a faint smell of alcohol.

“Well, my blood pressure went up, but the distribution of the treatment drug offset some of the losses, and we decided to issue more shares to the shareholders. Luckily—or perhaps fortunately—the stock price has recovered.”

Dremson said this as if it were nothing.

It seemed he had decided on a bonus stock issuance.
Usually, this would come from retained earnings, but after a stock plunge like this, it would have been difficult to use company funds for the issuance.

He was putting on a calm facade, but it surely wasn’t an easy decision.
To cover the additional shares, Dremson must have poured in personal funds.

I resolved internally to repay this kindness someday.

I sat in the empty chair indicated by Dremson.

“So, did the Capital Defense Force give you a proper reward for this incident?”

Dremson asked with a serious expression.

In truth, I had received a substantial reward for resolving the monster outbreak.
Therion had given me a token of recognition publicly. I didn’t yet fully understand its capabilities, but its power was immense.

On the way here, when a rampaging horse tried to attack me, the green light etched on my wrist enveloped my body and instantly calmed the horse.

And, of course, there was the pact I made with the Imperial Senate Chair.

“Hahaha, now that we’re blood brothers, any reckless attack against you will be blocked. But you must also be careful in honoring Master Arandil’s name.”

I felt like I had a reliable older brother—or, rather, strong backing.

But the payment for my work hadn’t yet been decided.

Why?

“Not yet. The Capital Defense Force said they need to allocate a special budget first.”

Since I had made a grand appearance at the press conference and hearing, I was frustrated from all the effort and attention.

Determined to receive proper compensation, I requested 1% of the net profit from the treatment drug.

It might not sound like much since it’s the net profit after expenses, but the drug’s profit margin was extremely high.
The patients from this incident numbered at least 2 million. Even 1% meant at least 5 billion Kram in my pocket.

Frida, the head of the headquarters, was silent for three minutes after hearing my request.
But this time, I wouldn’t compromise. Dremson and I would share this reward.

“Haha, you made a bold request. Well done, well done.”

Dremson, the businessman, seemed satisfied with my explanation.

At that moment, there was a knock at the door.

Knock. Knock.

The secretary entered carrying three bottles of water.

“This is the latest trendy water. Produced directly by elves in the Aurella Valley.”

The water looked refreshingly clear and had intricate elf designs on the label.

“Chairman, isn’t this Evian?”

Marian happily picked up a bottle.

“You young people know your stuff.”

I remembered seeing this water in ads recently. Due to its rarity, priority was given to some prestigious schools and upscale silver towns.

I removed the wooden cap and poured the water into a glass.

Before I could drink, Dremson leaned forward and asked,

“How does it feel? Does it make your body feel purified?”

His expression was childlike, full of curiosity.

“Has he always been this cute?”

Meeting Dremson privately always revealed a new side of him.

I noticed his toes moving in his slippers—but that wasn’t important.

“Chairman, this is amazing! My whole body feels light, and my mind feels calm!”

Marian’s expression showed pure delight at the experience.

“Yes, yes. The elves’ natural restorative power removes inflammation and rejuvenates the body instantly,” Dremson said, watching Marian with a pleased expression.

He then looked expectantly at me.

I raised the glass and drank. When I set it down, Dremson and Marian gazed at me eagerly.

Carefully, I said,

“Um… refreshing, I guess?”

Dremson looked disappointed.

“…Is that all?” he asked.

Marian added,

“Prosecutor, can’t you describe it more creatively?”

Despite their disappointed and mildly scolding expressions, I simply could not see anything special in this water.

If I had to find something, it would be:

“The bottle looks luxurious.”

“……”

“Hmm… should I sell some stock?”

Dremson muttered to himself, looking gloomy.
He kept tapping his arms while mumbling something.

If that was the symptom, then surely…

“Chairman, did you buy Evian stock?”

He must have risked his own money.

“I sold a villa to issue additional shares. I need to cover that loss!” Dremson said, faintly smelling of alcohol.

Back when I was a rookie prosecutor in South Korea,

The country was ablaze with a stock market frenzy.

Everyone, from toddlers to elders in their 90s, was opening stock accounts.
People pooled their savings, some even borrowed money, buying and selling stocks to chase wealth.

The slogans at the time were:

When stocks soared, everyone shouted,

“Let’s go!”

When stocks plummeted, crawling underground, everyone encouraged each other with,

“Up, up, up!”

I, however, ignored the trend and focused solely on savings.

Stock account?

• Never opened one.

Investment?

• I said, I don’t have a stock account!

I didn’t understand how investing money in something I couldn’t be sure of differed from gambling.

Plus, my job exposed me to countless scammers, which only made me more cautious.

Anyway, I personally didn’t invest in stocks and didn’t particularly recommend it to others.

But in the Gilorian Empire, the people were even more obsessed with investment than in South Korea.

Across from me, Dremson sat focused, face pressed against a palm-sized magical stone display.

“Hmm…”

He silently pressed buttons for a while, then placed his hand on the stone, and the device drew blood from his fingers.

A blue light glowed.

For about ten minutes, he repeated this process silently, and his face grew pale.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

He finally looked up.

“I’m selling stocks. Wait, still 100,000 shares left.”

In the Gilorian Empire, stock trading required blood authentication.

So-called, blood-stock trading.

That was the current state of the Gilorian stock market.

“No other way? Drawing blood every time to trade?” I exclaimed.

Dremson looked at me as if I were a slime.

“The people who know this understand why,” he muttered.

After problems with lending identities during past investment frenzies, the Stock Management Bureau implemented strict measures:

“Authenticate your identity with your own blood.”

Since then, blood trading became normal.
Short-term traders often suffered chronic anemia.

But with money involved, people still traded at the cost of their own blood.

“Then just trade a little less,” I said, handing him milk instead of pouring alcohol.
It was calcium-fortified milk, 200 times stronger than usual.

“Compared to others, I’m fine. Those trading ‘Ruby’ nowadays need blessings from the temple just to walk normally,” Dremson said casually.

“Ruby? Do people trade gems now?”

“You know nothing about economics. Ruby is a company. They developed a remarkable new material,” he explained, then asked,

“What do you think is the chronic problem in Gilorian industry?”

I thought carefully before answering.

“Wage inequality?”

Dremson sighed and shook his head.

“Chronic mana shortage!”

Ah, the mana shortage.
The Gilorian Empire relies on magical stones for industrial power.

Magical stones are eco-friendly and efficient, but mining or monster hunting is required, and the supply is insufficient.

Hence, they produce synthetic stones by mixing magical stones with fossil fuels in secret ratios.
Dremson’s business profits greatly from trading and manufacturing synthetic stones.

For less capable groups, they still use ordinary fuels like wood, which is barely enough for home cooking—useless for industry.

Dremson continued,

“But Ruby claims they developed a synthetic material that, when processed above a certain temperature, maximizes efficiency! The stress it causes is driving people mad.”

This new material generates far more energy than ordinary stones.

If true, it would be a godsend for the mana-starved Gilorian Empire.

Naturally, the stock market reacted passionately.

But I wondered:

“Isn’t this too revolutionary?”

Suddenly developing a miracle-like material—though here, magic exists—warrants skepticism.

Dremson nodded in agreement.

“Excessive innovation is fraud. But people believe only what they want to see. Look at Ruby’s stock chart. It’s dazzlingly upward.”

He rose abruptly from his seat.

“We’ll investigate. If Ruby’s claims are true, we should propose a merger or invest immediately.”

He looked at the shareholder compensation plan and resolved.

Then he turned to me,

“You seem eager too. How about investing in a solid company? Our company is open for business.”

At that moment, he looked every bit the businessman, sober and serious.

I looked back with a nonchalant expression:

“I don’t even have a stock account.”