Karen was an ordinary citizen of Gephra. He had a decent job and had managed to save some money over the years.
When the Solyong Bonds first became popular, he didn’t invest right away. It was too unfamiliar, too suspicious.
Eight percent monthly returns on total investment? Who would believe such nonsense?
If the returns were truly that high, why would anyone share it with others instead of quietly getting rich alone?
Karen believed that if he had a business yielding even 5% pure profit per month, he wouldn’t tell a soul. He’d keep it to himself and rake in the money.
He wasn’t an idealist. He shared the flaws of many ordinary people—vain, selfish, slightly greedy—but also cautious.
He didn’t invest in the first round.
He skipped the second round too.
But some people around him did. They were always excitedly talking about how much they’d invested and the monthly interest they were receiving.
Karen, like many rational skeptics, still didn’t buy it.
But then came the first month, the second, the third, the fourth…
For four consecutive months, people were actually receiving 8% returns on their investments. Even the cautious Karen couldn’t hold out any longer.
Everyone was making money. He alone had missed the chance out of fear and distrust. He felt like a fool.
In four months, he could’ve recovered 30% of his capital. He hated himself for hesitating.
So he poured all his savings into the fourth round of Solyong Bonds and became part of the bond circle.
Everyone talked about how the bonds had changed their lives, how they dreamed of a better future—until one man appeared.
This man sold all his assets to invest in the bonds: his house, his farmland—everything.
He claimed his existing wealth wasn’t enough to guarantee the same annual income, but the Solyong Bonds could.
With 100,000, he could make another 100,000. With a million, another million.
It didn’t matter how the company made money. As long as it paid interest each month, nothing else mattered. Even if it was robbing banks—it had nothing to do with him.
Under his persuasion, others in the group began selling their homes to buy more bonds.
Though they no longer owned property, they moved into luxury apartments, dined on gourmet food, and became the envy of society—members of the upper class.
This triggered a wave of FOMO among people like Karen. Encouraged by this trend and with his family’s approval, he sold his house and rural land and invested everything into Solyong Bonds.
He began to dream of a lavish life—living in a mansion, hiring maids (the kind that don’t wear underwear), and feasting on gourmet cuisine.
Most importantly, he wouldn’t need to work anymore. No more long hours in the workshop. The monthly interest alone would be more than enough.
The entire family shared this fantasy. Solyong Bonds had become a national craze—so powerful that people were completely enthralled.
Then the disaster struck—abruptly and without warning. Harmony Capital was delisted, its assets frozen, and scandal after scandal broke out. Even the company’s CEO committed suicide.
All signs pointed to one truth: they had been scammed.
To modern people, this type of scheme wasn’t particularly sophisticated. But it wasn’t outdated either. Its regular and punctual interest payments made it easy for people to shift quickly from distrust to belief.
Especially when everyone else seemed to be making money, the fear of being left behind made many ignore the risks and double down—until it all collapsed.
Karen and others brought their families to the capital. They protested outside the Finance Minister’s residence, demanding compensation for their losses.
The newspapers, the media, even the CEO’s suicide note—all pointed the finger at the Finance Minister.
If he and his staff hadn’t accepted bribes and allowed a company full of red flags to operate, get licensed, and go public, would so many people have been hurt?
If they had investigated thoroughly at the beginning instead of looking the other way for money, could this whole tragedy have been prevented?
But they took the bribes, and let the company proceed, creating countless victims.
As the media described it: Harmony Capital was the executioner of wealth, and the finance officials, including the minister, were the accomplices.
Now, the victims had no outlet for their anger. Their only option was to come here to protest, hoping for a solution.
And even now, the elites refused to leave them alone. The appearance of the police only enraged them further.
They’d heard rumors: Harmony Capital was just a puppet. Behind it were greedy nobles looting the people’s wealth.
War had thrown the aristocracy’s finances into disarray. So they set up a frontman to harvest civilian wealth. That’s why such a dubious company passed audits so easily—they were all in it together.
Some had doubts before. But now, with the police arriving, it felt like confirmation.
Karen stood in the crowd, no longer with any escape.
His fists clenched.
He had sold his house. Sold the land his grandparents left him. Sold everything of value. Even the interest he had earned was reinvested into bonds.
If this protest didn’t work, he and his family—his wife and children—would end up homeless, on the streets.
These nobles didn’t just want his money—they wanted his life.
At that moment, this ordinary man snapped. He suddenly lunged at the advancing armed police, full of desperation and fury—an explosion of resistance against tyranny.
The retreating crowd hesitated for a moment, stunned by his boldness. Then others followed.
Roaring with rage, people charged at the police phalanx that wouldn’t even spare them the right to complain.
And so, a riot erupted—right outside the Finance Minister’s residence.
Whoever orchestrated this behind the scenes had achieved their goal.
Not just the nation—soon, the whole world would turn its eyes to this riot and to the central figure at its heart: the Finance Minister.
When the Emperor rebuked him, the Minister showed no anger or despair.
And when he encountered the Prime Minister outside the palace, facing his rival’s veiled hostility—he simply responded with calm indifference.Facing his incompetent subordinates, he calmly issued a series of countermeasures.
Even just a second ago, he had still believed this was merely scenery on the road to resolution and eventual victory.
But now, anger surfaced on his face, and his eyes were filled with despair.
Some people were clearly determined to drive him to his death.
“Whose man is that?” Lynch, watching the chaos unfold not far away, was slightly surprised. “Did we plant someone?”
The sergeant looked confused as well. “That’s not the person I arranged… I’ll make a call to confirm.”
He stepped into another room and began making the call to verify whether the first man who charged forward was theirs.
Lynch, meanwhile, continued observing the riot nearing its end. Once these rioters were suppressed, the Emperor of the Gephra Empire would be faced with a difficult dilemma.
If he didn’t deal with the Finance Minister, the public wouldn’t accept it and certainly wouldn’t calm down. The victims might continue to rally, and next time, they could show up outside the imperial palace.
Don’t be fooled by the public’s apparent respect for the royal family and the Emperor. If their personal interests were truly harmed, not even God could stop them—especially when mass consciousness awakens in unison, making it easy for larger riots to erupt.
But if the Finance Minister was removed, things would begin spiraling out of control.
As long as the Minister remained in office—even if all his subordinates were purged—it signaled that the struggle between royal power and ministerial power hadn’t reached its peak.
Once he resigned or was dismissed, the power struggle between the Emperor and the Prime Minister would officially begin.
In recent years, the royal family had clearly dominated over the nobility. If the Prime Minister and Emperor clashed over control, the nobles would inevitably be forced to pick sides again.
If the Emperor didn’t want to lose control over financial power to the Prime Minister, he’d have to offer major concessions to secure the nobles’ support.
So even if he retained control of finance, he’d still suffer significant losses.
That made the Finance Minister someone who couldn’t be kept but also couldn’t be let go—unless the Emperor was willing to compromise and let the Prime Minister take the role, which wasn’t an easy move either.
The more chaotic the power structure at the top of Gephra became, the more it would directly impact finance and the economy—both of which would continue to decline.
And as long as they declined, Lynch would keep making money. His supporters would keep backing him. It was a win on all fronts.
That very afternoon, the Prime Minister appeared on television. Live on air, he announced that he would submit an impeachment request against the Finance Minister to His Majesty the Emperor, and that he would also demand the Ministry of Internal Affairs launch a full investigation into the crimes of finance officials.
This was nothing short of a declaration of war—against the Finance Minister, and against the royal family.
Of course, this had nothing to do with some lofty notion of justice.
It was all for one thing: power.
That seductive, irresistible power.
