The morning sun over the Capital didn't look like a "New Beginning." It looked like a "Foreclosure Notice." I stood on the balcony of the Prince's "Dilapidated Estate," watching as the Royal Debt Collectors—dressed in those "High-Interest" crimson robes—started "Tagging" the statues in the garden for "Liquidation."
"Elara, they're taking the 'Golden Swan'!" Prince Julian wailed, clutching his "Silk Bathrobe" as if it were a "Security Bond." "That statue has been in the 'Royal Portfolio' for three generations! It's an 'Irreplaceable Asset'!"
"It's a 'Dust-Collector', Julian," I snapped, my "Internal Ledger" already "Calculating" the "Net Gain" from its removal. I didn't even look at him; I was too busy "Optimizing" the "Service-Level Agreement" for the new household staff. "And right now, it's worth exactly Forty-Thousand Gold Credits in 'Unpaid Taxes'. Let them 'Liquidate' it. We're 'Pivoting' to a 'Minimalist Growth Strategy' anyway."
