Chapter 108: How to Reach a Dream (3) The heart of downtown Verkina.
I purchased a prime piece of real estate right in the middle of the bustling district and immediately broke ground on construction.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Heavy machinery powered by mana stones operated without rest. The business model I intended to launch here was a state-of-the-art club, Kanilan-style. With mana stone speakers and an exterior finished in transparent glass, it would become a uniquely decadent sanctuary in Verkina.
"A club, I see," Julian murmured, looking up at the construction site.
"Have you ever been to one?"
"Yes. Once or twice in Kanilan."
Drugs inevitably lead to entertainment. By creating a flashy, stimulating playground in the middle of downtown Verkina, the cartel executives would flock to it like moths to a flame.
There was no better trap for tracking their movements, identifying their weaknesses, and, if necessary, kidnapping them without a trace.
"I've also purchased every property from one end of this street to the other."
"I see."
"A hideout will be built beneath the main road. It will house an armory, a prison, and a communications room. This entire area will essentially become our command center."
In truth, it hadn't cost much. The price of two or three buildings in the Empire's central wealthy district was more than enough.
I pulled a bearer bond from my coat and handed it to Julian.
"Take this. You are the owner of this club, Sir Julian. I'll be too busy with Imperial affairs to stay here, so I'm entrusting the operation and organizational management entirely to you."
Julian nodded as he accepted the bond.
Since there was no doubt regarding his abilities, I only needed to provide the backing.
"However... before I leave, I'd like to see this 'friend' you've had your eye on."
The only downside was that Julian lacked the ability to identify Izenheim.
*
A tavern in the borderlands of Verkina.
Kalon, who used the place as a base to run a low-level cartel sub-unit, bowed deeply to someone.
"I am sorry!"
The recipient of the apology was Luca, an enforcer under the Parmano Cartel.
"Does saying sorry fix everything? Your tribute is short, you piece of shit."
Clack. He pressed the muzzle of a gun against Kalon's forehead. Kalon dropped to his knees instantly.
"I'm sorry! Just three days—give me three days and I'll find a way—"
"Two days."
Luca cut him off with a greasy smirk.
"No, tomorrow. If you don't bring it by tomorrow, this kid is taking your place. Understand?"
He patted the shoulder of the young boy standing beside him.
"...Yes."
The boy had a youthful face, likely not even twenty. He looked down at Kalon with eyes even more arrogant than Luca's, snickering, but there was nothing Kalon could do. He simply kept his head pressed against the floor, hiding his expression.
"Then, see you then. Have it ready, you useless leech~"
Luca and his subordinates left. Kalon's men rushed over to help him up.
"Boss, are you alright?"
"..."
Kalon grit his teeth in silence. He felt more bewildered than angry. There was no way to come up with that kind of money by tomorrow—
Tinkle.
Just then, the tavern door opened and two men walked in.
"We're closed."
A subordinate tried to block them, but the visitors paid him no mind.
"Hey. I said we're closed."
"Kalon."
One of the guests called his name. Kalon flinched and looked up.
It was a familiar face. Julian, the Imperial Knight.
"...Leave us. You lot, get out."
Kalon hurriedly pulled a few bills from his wallet to dismiss his men.
Step. Step.
Julian and his companion walked in and took a seat.
"You seem to be having a hard time."
"No. It's nothing."
Kalon tried his best to act nonchalant. He looked at the man sitting next to Julian. A man with black hair and sharp eyes. He was coldly scanning Kalon.
It was a gaze that felt like a blade tracing his throat.
"Is this the one?" the man asked.
Julian nodded.
"His name is Calian Ross. 'Kalo' for short. As you can see, he's a capo of a minor cartel. His influence is too weak to truly be called a capo, but as they say, there's always a capo above a capo."
"Hmm."
The man let out a small chuckle as he looked at Kalo.
"It seems you're deep in debt."
"...The tribute amount suddenly spiked, so I had no choice—"
"Can you pay it back by tomorrow?"
"..."
Kalo fell silent. That was his answer.
Thud.
The man lifted a bag and set it on the table.
"Take it. It's three million Imperial dollars."
"...What?"
"And."
He set a duffel bag on the floor. The contents spilled out with a metallic clatter. It was filled with firearms, ammunition, and various other weapons like grenades.
"These are what you need right now."
The money was one thing, but the weapons... in Verkina, a low-level organization had no way of obtaining such hardware. The major cartels kept a hawk-like watch on each other to prevent exactly this.
"Huh?"
Kalo's head tilted involuntarily.
Was this a dream?
Had he just been killed by Luca and sent to the afterlife?
While Kalo stared blankly back and forth between the money, the weapons, and the two men—
"Kalo," Julian said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "From this moment on, you will serve as an asset to the Empire and carry out its missions."
*
A night market in Verkina.
We sat side-by-side at a street stall, eating. The presentation was crude, but the local flavor, packed with spices, was a delicacy in its own right.
"Is he to your liking?" Julian asked as he tore into some chicken.
"Yes. I like the look in his eyes. You've found the right person."
Calian Ross. I knew the name. Right now, he was just a mediocre cartel mid-manager, but in the future, he would be the man who unified the chaotic territories of Verkina and became a drug lord.
"He's a man who lost his parents and younger sibling to the cartels. He handles mana well and is fluent in the Imperial language. Above all, he has a strong resolve."
"So it seems."
With my financial backing, Kalo would rapidly expand his influence. When the time was right, I would use Ashton as kindling.
I would use the death of a Knight to incite the Empire's fury and establish a justification for a total cartel sweep.
Once most of the cartels—excluding Kalo's—were dealt a near-fatal blow, Kalo would step in to fill the vacuum.
"The operation name is 'Dream Road.' What do you think?"
It was the name I would write in the report.
"Not bad."
Just then, the dish we ordered arrived. It was Verkina-style chicken—a whole bird deep-fried and coated in a spicy sauce.
I took a bite.
Crispy skin and succulent meat.
It was delicious.
"This is good."
I finished the drumstick in an instant.
Should I order another one?
"Proprietor. One more."
"Eat your fill. Verkina is famous for its food. You'll miss it once you return to the Empire."
Crunch. Crunch.
That was the sound every time I bit into the chicken.
Crunch. Crunch.
After finishing the meal, I stood up.
"Well then, Sir Julian. I wish you strength."
It was time to part ways.
I had to return to the Empire, and Julian had to remain here.
"You as well."
* * *
Just as Julian had his dream, I had mine.
It was the survival of humanity, not just an individual, and it required a very complex set of efforts. Sometimes it had to be carved with a sword, sometimes with a gun, and sometimes on paper...
──A conference room in the Imperial Ministry of Finance.
Prior to the motion in the Council of State, I formally proposed a tax reform plan that included 'Withholding Tax.' The documentation was extensive. Based on Johann's ideas, Dieter had handled the review and refinement.
Since the thoughts of two geniuses had been combined from the start, it was far more sophisticated than it had been before my regression.
"...In the end, are you saying we should collect more taxes?"
Oscar, the Finance Department Head, asked as he adjusted his glasses.
"On the contrary."
I shook my head firmly.
"We must drastically lower taxes for low-income earners and multi-child households."
"Ha. And where will we find the massive resources for that? Are we supposed to dig it out of the ground?"
"You know as well as I do. There are several corporations in the Empire that are essentially plundering it."
The Empire had to secure its finances for the coming war. It had to be able to wage war without struggling for funds.
However, that must not be achieved by exploiting the subjects.
I pushed forward another document.
"Foreign companies are remitting the massive profits they earn in the Empire back to their home countries. It is, in effect, an outflow of national wealth."
The capital from various Western nations that had infiltrated the Empire, and the comprador capital that lived off them.
"We must completely ban the overseas remittance of profits and impose punitive taxes on those who violate this. Furthermore, we must mandate that surplus profits above a certain scale be used to purchase Imperial government bonds."
"..."
Department Head Oscar's face went blank. The other staff members were the same.
It seemed the Imperial bureaucrats were still somewhat naive.
Then again, all the bizarrely evil laws of that era had come from the Imperial Guard—specifically, from Johann's head.
"Aranians who own businesses but do not serve the nation are no exception. They too must be 'encouraged' to purchase Imperial bonds with a portion of their profits."
Just as Oscar was letting out a hollow laugh of disbelief—
"—If that happens."
The voice of the Chancellor, Ken Steiner, who was sitting at the head of the table, resonated powerfully.
"The various companies, factories, and Aternum under your command, Sir Maximilian, will also be subject to these taxes."
Ken Steiner.
He was a noble. A noble among nobles.
But unfortunately, he was also a man who had already fallen out of the Emperor's favor.
"Are you not an entrepreneur yourself? You would suffer the greatest loss."
"Yes. And I am willing to accept that."
I had no intention of hoarding my own money. In a world facing annihilation, profit margins were nothing more than meaningless splashing in the water.
"You don't seem to realize how much administrative power this bill would require. The backlash from corporations, diplomatic friction, market chaos... can you handle it?"
"I am simply relying on His Majesty's will."
Ken Steiner's brow furrowed.
"...His Majesty's will?"
"Yes. I am thinking of the Great Work the Empire seeks to achieve."
Everything said here would be reported to the Emperor.
The Emperor of the Empire believed himself to be a god, and he possessed the authority to match.
A legitimacy that seemed granted by the heavens. A human with a lineage rare even in the thousand-year history of the Empire.
Since he was prepared to do anything for the sake of his achievements—
"For the sake of the legitimate and direct descendant of the Imperial House. For the most perfect and noble Emperor."
I would become his perfect loyalist.
"The Empire must secure resources for war and unite its strength. I am merely prepared for that—"
"I do not think so."
Ken Steiner shook his head.
"There are still uncharted lands on the continent. Think of the resources buried there. The Empire can enjoy prosperity once again without the uncertain means of war."
This was the reason Chancellor Steiner would be forced into retirement. The reason the Empire hadn't gone bankrupt yet was thanks to this Chancellor's brilliant economic policies, but the Emperor would cast him aside.
Because he was an unequivocal member of the anti-war faction.
"..."
I looked around the room in silence. I had fully expected Ken Steiner's opposition, but I hardened my expression as if I were offended.
"...I am disappointed, Chancellor Ken Steiner."
At those words, the bureaucrats licked their lips.
"Deeply disappointed."
Their heads slowly bowed.
However, Ken was the only one who did not avoid my gaze.
* * *
Night fell.
Maximilian's radical tax proposal spread throughout the Imperial Palace overnight. It was partly due to Reutern II, that loose-lipped chatterbox, spending the whole day blathering about how "this is truly a policy for the Empire."
"...It couldn't be helped."
In the innermost Sanctum of the Imperial Palace, the Emperor was furious.
At the same time, he was pleased.
He was pleased with Maximilian's loyal legal proposal, and furious at Ken Steiner's continued display of cowardice.
It was inevitable.
The Emperor had favored Ken Steiner for decades, but the two had grown old in different ways.
"That old man has aged."
The Emperor's confidant, Chief of Staff Grossman, muttered softly as he smoked a cigar.
Standing before him was Werner, the Head of Intelligence, a direct agency of the Empire.
"His Majesty was very pleased with Maximilian's proposal. He felt the same about his loyalty. Therefore, we must follow His Majesty's will."
Grossman exhaled a long plume of cigar smoke.
In truth, Maximilian's rapid rise was gaining enough momentum to make even him slightly wary.
But if the Emperor's favor was leaning that way, there was no need to oppose it. Rather, it was more profitable to ride that wave and eliminate his political rival, Ken Steiner.
The power within the Imperial Palace was still split into four or five factions under the Emperor, and Grossman was only one of them.
"Handle it quietly."
The order to cut down Ken Steiner—the giant who had supported the Empire's economy until now.
"Yes."
The Head of Intelligence bowed. He backed out of the office.
Sizzle.
Grossman crushed his cigar into the ashtray. He stared at the dying embers, lost in deep thought.
"Maximilian..."
The son of Zebestian, the heir of Ebenholtz.
Grossman had never bothered to keep Ebenholtz in check. There had been no reason to. Zebestian was a loyalist who moved only by the Emperor's command—the Emperor's sword.
But what about Maximilian?
Was that young knight like his father, or did he harbor something more?
"I'll have to watch him for now."
Grossman was not one to be careless.
Looking out at the darkness filling the Empire, he merely pondered a future where his own influence would be most secure...
*
Late one night.
Ken Steiner left the Imperial Palace. Lately, he had been overworked every day because of the Council of State.
"Thank you for your hard work."
"You all worked hard as well."
Receiving the greetings of the Finance Ministry staff, who were equally exhausted, he climbed into his car with a weary body.
"We're leaving now."
He buried himself in the back seat as they headed toward his manor.
Whirrrr.
The black sedan glided down the road.
A familiar path he had commuted on for decades, since he was a low-level official.
While he was worrying about the future of the Empire, just as they reached a dark, narrow passage where the streetlights were sparse—
Screeeech!
Suddenly, a car in front blocked the path and came to a halt.
"...Hmm?"
The driver's brow furrowed. He tried to reverse and turn back, but before he knew it, another car had pulled up tight behind them.
"What is this..."
They were trapped.
Ken bit his lip in silence.
"What—what is this?"
While the driver was panicking, someone stepped out of the car in front.
"..."
Ken Steiner looked at him through the window.
Under the flickering light of a broken streetlight, a blonde knight was faintly revealed.
Maximilian.
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