The Daimyō hesitated, sitting there torn.
Should he step into this deal or not?
Knowing those vermin too well… in the face of profit they turn into devils, so greedy they lose all reason.
As a man at the top, he loathed the feeling of losing control, and this tulip-bubble game would surely spin out of control and beyond his reach, leaving a mess of feathers.
But it was undeniable.
As the initiator and handler of the game, he would rake it in, mouth dripping with grease, amassing a fortune. Even a Daimyō would envy wealth like that.
Kazuma sat quietly on the sofa, watching the Daimyō's face. He knew it was time to make his move.
He had to give the Daimyō a push.
How can you be timid when making big money?
"Your Highness, hear me out.
"The tulip game hooks only the willing. No one forces them in.
"And which of these participants isn't sitting on immense wealth? Yet they're still that greedy. Even if they end up ruined, they've earned it. Lord Makoto says when a person's wisdom doesn't match his wealth, his money will find ways to flow back into the market.
"Your Highness, you don't want greedy fools enjoying wealth that isn't theirs to keep, do you?"
His voice dripped with persuasion.
In this world, it wasn't the powerful shinobi who held vast wealth, but nobles and merchants. And they had it not because of talent, but because… well, this is the shinobi world.
Being born to the right family takes skill.
Hearing Kazuma whisper at his ear, the Daimyō's mind stirred with unpleasant memories.
Right on the sore spot.
His underlings had grown more unruly over the years.
In his youth he'd dreamed of achievements for the Land of Fire, of cleaning up officialdom and straightening out taxes. But a millennium of entrenched nobility had built a full bureaucratic edifice—one he alone could not shake.
Unless he "invited wolves into the house" and let shinobi mingle in the nation's affairs… which was impossible. He guarded against nobles, and even more against shinobi; nobles were greedy for money and power, but shinobi might take their lives.
Even if he tried it, the nobles would block him at once with every trick in the book. "Your Highness, you can't swim very well, can you?"
Still.
In his youth he forced them to rein it in. But now he was old, his energy lacking. They clustered—one by one, in gangs. They refused taxes, cooked the books, turned ledgers to chaos, fooled their subordinates, and even dared to blur things before the Daimyō.
"Those bastards.
"All thieves.
"Three hundred billion ryō in taxes, you pocket two hundred, I get a hundred—and I'm supposed to pretend to thank you.
"You think because you're nobles, hereditary vassals, I can't touch you?
"The money you skim—it's mine.
"Mine. My money."
He raged inside, his face darkening, while Kazuma kept talking, poisoning his ear against the vermin.
"Your Highness, this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance. That wealth isn't theirs to hold.
"We're aligning with fate."
At the thought of such riches, the Daimyō felt heat surge in his chest.
This haul wouldn't be mere billions. It would be tens of billions, even a hundred billion ryō.
"It's decided."
Already resentful of the vermin, the Daimyō, tempted by immense wealth, finally made up his mind.
Do it.
Seize the moment; it won't return.
This money rightfully should be his.
"Your Highness, a most prudent decision."
Kazuma flattered him and secretly exhaled.
Soon after the Daimyō agreed to the tulip bubble, the two discussed the concrete plan.
The tulip scheme required only the Daimyō's cooperation; the remaining difficulties would be negligible.
By Uchiha Makoto's design, step one was the Daimyō spending a fortune on tulips, spreading their name swiftly through noble circles.
Then came price operations.
Send crowds of hired "actors" to line up at tulip stalls, create a shortage, lift prices, then unload, pump, unload—arbitrage on repeat.
This would need hefty funds to push prices. Akatsuki might not carry it, but the Daimyō could underwrite it. At worst—the magnates' money would be returned in full.
The crucial contract trading would then fall into place.
As for the rest.
Human greed would solve all obstacles for them.
"Good. Good. Good."
The Daimyō said "good" three times. Makoto's plan clicked link by link, preying on the darkness in human hearts. Even he, if greedy, would certainly join the tulip money game—and end up badly burned.
"As long as Your Highness is satisfied."
With the plan agreed upon, one matter remained.
Profit sharing.
That had to be settled upfront.
Even brothers keep clear accounts—much more so when partnering with a verminous Daimyō.
Uchiha Makoto wanted a seventy–thirty split.
Yes.
Akatsuki taking seventy, the Daimyō thirty.
Even ten percent would be a huge sum.
But that wasn't realistic.
Circumstances pressed them. Akatsuki was still weak; they needed the Daimyō's cooperation, his funds, and future partnership. Giving him only thirty percent was something Makoto could only dream of.
Nor would the Daimyō accept it. He would be putting up both money and effort, lending his name to the hype—and take just thirty?
Who did they think he was.
Seventy–thirty—he would take the seventy.
However—
Makoto had a bottom line.
The tulip plan was his from start to finish. The Daimyō would sit and collect. There was no way Makoto would settle for thirty.
At the very least—fifty–fifty.
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