It wasn’t just the clubs that reacted fiercely; the citizenry was in an uproar as well.

"By the God of Order, how much do the King and the other lords spend in a year?" Whether in teahouses or taverns, on the streets or in workshops, people were all discussing the "Report."

Consequently, street-level gossip dissecting its text and speculating about the Royal Family began to spread.

"Let me tell you, one day I saw several boatloads of big white geese being sent to the Royal Palace..."

"To eat?"

"Heh heh, you guess..."

Some of them couldn’t even recognize all the characters on the cover, with news spreading mainly by word of mouth, inevitably getting distorted as public opinion fermented. The poor simply couldn’t imagine how the Royal Palace could spend such an astronomical sum. They could only guess that His Majesty ate white bread sprinkled with gold leaf every day and slept with hundreds of women...

This led to more people sifting through the muck in the Royal Palace’s sewers, hoping to find gold.

"If you were king, how could you even spend that much money?" Two men, off from work and carrying cheap liquor, chatted as they walked home. As they passed a building, they heard someone shout from inside, "Someone’s jumped again!"

After the passersby moved on, body collectors entered and exited the building. They carried out a stretcher covered with a burlap cloth, tossed the "cargo" onto a cart, and sped away.

The Mining Company had already closed down. Not a single one of its plate glass windows, imported at great expense from the southern end of the continent, was left intact. All had been smashed to smithereens with stones by furious investors. The exterior walls were splattered with large swathes of red paint, with the word "SWINDLERS!" scrawled across them in huge letters.

The broken windows made it easy for people to get in and out, and valuable items like desks, chairs, and lamps were carried away one by one. But this was all trivial compared to the money the company had taken from the people through the stock market.

The stock exchange next door was not spared either. Every day, bankrupt individuals with bloodshot eyes loitered around, and even the patrols of the Security Team couldn’t stop the furious crowds from demanding an explanation.

"Rises and falls are a normal part of the market! You can’t lose your heads just because you lost money, citizens, subjects of the Kingdom!" The speaker was a newly appointed Robed Noble. Seeing so many people storming the stock exchange, he felt it was his moment to show loyalty to His Majesty the King and came out of his office to try and "educate" the masses.

"To hell with you! You all conspired to swindle us!" A rock flew with precision and struck the corner of the official’s forehead, drawing blood. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Soon, a second and third stone followed. It turned out that a loyal heart was no match for the people’s fury. "Security Team! Sheriff, what are you doing!" The official scurried back inside, covering his head.

The Security Team members could only block the people from surging forward. One of them explained to the official, "Sir, I lost a fortune in this damn market too. I can’t afford breakfast, so of course I don’t have the energy to stop their anger."

Because of the Mining Company’s bankruptcy, many people had truly lost everything! The collapse triggered a chain reaction, bringing down the public bonds and annuities aimed at the general populace as well.

The Noble Conference had concluded. Nominally, dividends from public bonds and Mining Company stocks were to be devalued by one-third through the new currency. However, factoring in the already plummeted value of the old currency, the average person’s wealth had evaporated by more than two-thirds. As for the bonds and stocks themselves, no one was willing to buy them anymore. The ownership certificates, once bought with hard-earned gold and silver, had become worthless paper in the blink of an eye.

The former middle class couldn’t adapt to life after unemployment and the massive depreciation of their assets. Some chose to end their lives with dignity.

Others, burdened with external debts, could only make a more spectacular exit, as if to declare to their creditors that they could never repay them. Unfortunately, while the newspapers reported on those who jumped in the first few days, the numbers soon grew so large that they were relegated to a small section that only roughly tallied the bankruptcies and suicides.

The most tragic were the elderly. Some had worked as servants their entire lives, saving up a small sum. They bought public bonds and other financial products, dreaming that their pensions would provide a stable and comfortable old age. Now, all their beautiful hopes had turned to dust. The managers and agents who had sold them those financial products were nowhere to be found.

Some resilient old folks went back to work just to earn their daily bread, living one day at a time. Many others who had lost their ability to work simply said their farewells in unnoticed corners, leaving a world that held nothing but pain and despair.

In stark contrast, on one side were the citizens who had suffered losses to varying degrees, and on the other was the public revelation of the Royal Palace’s extravagant spending. The resulting fury was only natural.

But the public wasn’t the only one angered by the "Report"—so was His Majesty the King himself.

「In the Royal Palace」

Charles XVI was furiously writing a secret dispatch, muttering to himself, "Nekker! Nekker... I must have been blind. I placed such high hopes in you, yet you played me and my subjects for fools..."

The contents of the dispatch were simple: send the former minister who had unilaterally published the Kingdom’s financial situation to the Bastille Prison. That tall, sturdy fortress stood right next to Valuva, coldly watching over the city. It was the final destination for special prisoners—ministers, opponents of the Royal Palace, and others secretly arrested by the Guard Captain on the King’s orders.

Dipresy watched in silence as His Majesty wrote. ’The king I serve is always like this,’ he thought. ’Just the other day, he was gracious enough to part amicably with the Minister of Finance, letting him leave and giving the cunning Nekker the chance to publish this booklet. Only today does he finally think of bringing him under control.’

’It’s likely too late to regret it now. By this time, the man is probably already on his way to the Empire or Istani, or seeking refuge with someone else.’

But, as usual, the Red-robed Prime Minister would not try to dissuade the King in his fit of anger. He simply waited for His Majesty to finish writing before speaking about more pressing matters.

"Your Majesty, I believe it is improper to have Duke Melovinca preside over the establishment of the Currency Bureau. You should appoint a new Minister of Finance as soon as possible to intervene and prevent a public institution from being manipulated by him and his faction."

Charles XVI’s anger clouded his thoughts. "Hmph! Minister of Finance... I don’t want to see another cunning banker ever again! Of course, you are right, Count Dipresy. Melovinca is an ambitious man; we can’t let him cause trouble. Let me think... Ah, never mind. Just have Count Dipresy recommend someone."

He rang a small Bell to summon the Guard Captain and handed him the dispatch.

The Guard Captain took the opportunity to report, "Your Majesty, quite a few idlers and sans-culottes are loitering around the Royal Palace..."

"What are they doing?" This successfully roused the King’s suspicion.

"According to my investigation, they are hoping to collect valuable things flowing out of the Royal Palace."

"What could possibly be in the sewers... Just seal off the nearby entrances. Don’t report such trivial matters."

"Yes, as you wish!" The Guard Captain left with the dispatch.

Because the Guard Captain had been too close to Nekker, he was now receiving the cold shoulder from Charles XVI. Dipresy was finally being relied upon by His Majesty more than ever before, but all he felt was a profound weariness.

Only the upper echelons knew that the entire scheme and the financial measures were orchestrated by Nekker. The common people, however, saw the former minister who dared to reveal the truth to the public as a brave man.

In his book, he defended himself and promoted the theory that public opinion should oversee the Royal Family and the entire Kingdom’s operations, winning the favor of many citizens. Combined with newspaper articles that dug up his glorious life story—rising from a commoner, determined to change the Kingdom’s status quo, and forced to resign by the Nobility—Nekker had unexpectedly become a grassroots hero in the hearts of many.

Meanwhile, the blame for the Mining Company scandal was placed squarely on the shoulders of the missing Valon. Everyone denounced the well-born young man as a swindler, while also insinuating what role the King might have played in the scheme and how much he had profited.

’They’ve actually turned me into a hero...’ Nekker, wearing a fake beard, couldn’t help but find the discussions in the teahouse amusing. Of course, this only proved that the defense he had laid out in his booklet was highly effective.