Chapter 34 – Scotland Yard

"What? It's over?"

"Yes. The Rothschilds mediated."

The Rothschilds? The team in the strategic planning department of the London Stock Exchange muttered in surprise.

Like many large corporate organisations, the London Stock Exchange didn't consist solely of dealers focused on securities.

The administrative staff who had caused a significant incident previously were a prime example.

Among them, the strategic planning department was similar to but different from the administrative staff.

They did not engage in securities and stock trading. To be precise, they were prohibited from doing so.

But they studied the stock market even more deeply than the dealers.

They analysed market fluctuations, the direction of the stock market, and how these elements might develop in the future.

They planned how to respond, which would determine the future of the London Stock Exchange in the short term, and the economy of the British Empire in the long term.

In that sense, for them, the showdown between the Bank of England and the London Stock Exchange that shook the financial industry was...

"Ah, that's disappointing."

"Right? Damn, I lost 5 pounds."

"Damn it, those who bet on the safe side took all the winnings. Where's the fun in that?"

It was truly a rare, extraordinarily entertaining spectacle.

Honestly speaking... hadn't things been too dull recently?

Since Her Majesty, Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, Empress of India, etc., ascended to the throne, the economy of the British Empire had been booming.

If the country had so much money that even mere coal miners were full enough to demand voting rights, it was indeed a prosperous time.

Whatever you invested in, it would rise, not fall.

Baring Brothers? They were just fools who lost money. Who would be foolish enough to trust those hybrids born from the interbreeding of African tribes south of the Pyrenees and cannibalistic natives?

Of course, the Mapuche of Argentina were a people with a culture entirely different from the cannibalistic cultures of the Olmecs, Maya, and Aztecs, but the Anglo-Saxons were always arrogant and ignorant.

Anyway, the strategic planning department consisted of such elites who, despite having more advanced knowledge about the stock market than others, were forbidden from investing in stocks.

So, how could they not be bored?

They could become millionaires in an instant if given the chance, but they had to be content with being salaried employees.

Of course, stepping out would mean cutting off their access to the knowledge from the London Stock Exchange, rendering them helpless kites without strings, and they would have to live under the surveillance of Scotland Yard, making it a mere pie in the sky.

As such, this incident was a major event in the financial industry for them after a long time.

It was an unexpected, full-course feast that they could enjoy to their heart's content... and it ended so quickly.

"Ah, I thought we could chew on this for at least half a year."

"Nothing we can do about it. The Rothschilds intervened."

"Why would those wealthy Jews be in such a hurry to pour cold water on it?"

"But what do we do with this?"

"Huh?"

What a certain strategic planning department employee was holding were several handwritten letters.

The employees had a moment of mental lag, wondering what those were.

"Ah, those are the ones the Securities Committee asked us to submit for any information we had on that author."

"Yeah, but the author really didn't know anything. He said he just created it based on the circumstances."

"Huh, he crafted such a story just from the circumstances?"

"This is why they call them geniuses."

While a few employees of the strategic planning department lamented, someone else was scrutinising the letters.

'Hmm... but if these are Hanslow Jin's handwritten letters, wouldn't they be valuable later?'

'Given the scale of this incident, depending on the content, these could be worth a lot...'

With such thoughts, they checked the contents.

Sure enough, as stated earlier, the letters began by explaining that the author had no knowledge of the specifics and had merely reimagined an interesting story from the circumstances. Nevertheless, since they had asked for his input, he offered whatever help he could provide based on what he knew.

Below that, he explained why he had interpreted the situation that way and offered his views on stock manipulation.

Yes, it was 'told' as a story.

'Setting up scenarios and assumptions... he wrote this advisory like a novel.'

The content was indeed interesting.

From the details of stock manipulation, where one artificially inflates stock prices to make it seem like there are rising factors and then sells off the stock to make a profit.

Or inducing panic selling by setting up a short sale in advance and deliberately offering the stock at a low price, effectively intimidating people.

Gathering initial investors expecting profit, then attracting secondary investors through advertising and using that to pay dividends (profits) to the initial investors...

Stories of short-selling and stock manipulation forces are common.

Even the famous master of gravity (and lifelong virgin), Isaac Newton, couldn't foresee human madness and was swept up in the South Sea Bubble, falling endlessly.

And the methods to counteract it were strangely realistic. It seemed they could actually use this information.

In a way, it was a method that subtly stimulated human desires and anxieties to guide them.

Depending on how it was used, it would be quite effective.

Moreover, since the content did not directly regulate companies, it was even more effective.

As is well known, companies are delicate entities that tend to overreact to even the slightest interference. Yet, to influence stock prices without disturbing them?

Submitting a report with this information would almost certainly guarantee a special bonus for that month. If everything aligned perfectly, a promotion could also be within reach.

"Is this an occupational hazard? Well, the content is indeed novelistic, given that he is a novelist..."

But, but even this.

"...Wait a minute. Hey! Come over here and take a look at this."

"What is it? What's got you so worked up?"

"This, this!!"

What followed was such a trivial matter in comparison.

"What... is this?"

"Is, is this method even possible?"

"It's not impossible."

Ponzi scheme, also known as multilevel marketing.

First perpetrated in 1920, this method had become so common by the 21st century that it was treated lightly as a scam technique.

But in this era, the 1890s?

It was nothing short of avant-garde.

Even though it was a story from a century ahead, this Ponzi scheme was so revolutionary that it had once toppled an entire country.

By fundamentally stimulating human greed and perpetuating success, it rendered people blindly devoted.

The unique method of using new investors' money to cover the earlier investors' profits was sustainable if the flow was maintained.

When it was sustained and then reached its limit?

The perpetrators would escape with all the siphoned-off investments.

As soon as the trickling funds stopped, a catastrophic collapse would ensue.

Like an antlion pit, the more people fell into it, the greater its destructive power and scale, truly a method deserving the term 'vicious.'

Even in the 21st century, where the concept was familiar, scams using this method continued to evolve and reappear, illustrating its profound influence.

"..."

Silence descended upon the office.

The strategic planning department of the London Stock Exchange ceased their chatter and hurriedly gathered.

They began seriously calculating.

The likelihood of success, the potential earnings from the scam, and the impact if such an event occurred in a country inadequately prepared for financial crimes.

Upon finishing their calculations, the strategic planning department shuddered as if confronting the devil's handiwork.

"This is... bloody hell."

"Damn it, why is an ordinary novelist thinking up such things?"

"Shut up and finish summarising this quickly!"

If they didn't stop this, the country could genuinely be ruined.

No matter how lazy or arrogant they were, they were still citizens of London.

They let their long-dormant patriotism and sense of public duty guide them as they devised as many measures as possible to prevent the multilevel marketing scheme.

It was the beginning of an unexpected wave of overtime.

In the midst of this, only one thing occupied their minds.

─Hanslow Jin... who exactly is he?

***

Meanwhile, that Hanslow Jin was.

"What? It's over?"

"Yes. We brought it this far, but I'm sorry."

Oh, it wasn't such a big deal.

I waved my hand dismissively, looking at the Scotland Yard officer who was returning my painstakingly written statement_final_FINAL_revision_2nd_last version.

"More importantly, what exactly happened? You've asked me to resubmit it several times already."

"Oh, that. It wasn't actually our request..."

The chubby, friendly-looking middle-aged officer scratched his head as he spoke.

Seeing that made it difficult to be angry, but honestly, I did feel a bit deflated.

Well, if you have to rewrite a statement several times, this is bound to happen.

I was never a suspect in this stock manipulation scandal.

The suspect was the Bank of England, and I was just a novelist.

Yet, the London Stock Exchange Commission 'suspected' that I might have evidence and demanded those documents.

And of course, I had none.

The works I had submitted were thoroughly inspired by the Lehman Brothers case and the clichés of corporate fiction, with my own arrangements. There was no evidence to be found in that.

To create a plausible statement without mentioning future events, I filled it with general knowledge about stock manipulation that I remembered.

But these people kept asking for more. "Ah, this part is a bit lacking," and "Can you make this section more detailed?" they said, repeatedly asking for revisions.

Not even my most demanding thesis advisor had asked me to rewrite this much!

Moreover, their requests were annoyingly vague, leaving me clueless about what they wanted!!

So, out of frustration, I roughly set up a scenario, added some simulations related to the case, and sent it off.

And to avoid further hassle, I even brought along additional content I had recently thought of.

"I'm really sorry. Please convey my apologies to Mr Hanslow Jin as well."

"No, we understand how hard you officers are working."

Scotland Yard had been struggling to relay this information.

In truth, these people had been sweating bullets investigating the unclear suspicions involving the Governor of the Bank of England and his predecessor.

By the way... I kept meeting this man, and he seemed to mistake me for "Hanslow Jin's hall boy," his errand runner.

But he wasn't rude; on the contrary, he offered tea and other courtesies while I waited, so I just let it slide.

I never said I wasn't.

"But what exactly happened? Weren't you in a huge row with the Governor of the Central Bank?"

"Hmm... it's actually confidential."

The officer folded his arms, contemplated briefly, then nodded.

"Well, Mr Hanslow Jin should know. They made peace. Thanks to that, we were ordered to cancel all our investigations."

"Made peace?"

"Well, someone important from Rothschild intervened."

"Ah..."

I immediately understood. Mr Miller must have intervened.

Honestly, why would Rothschild involve themselves in this chaos?

If I were one of those money-hungry Jews, I'd take the opportunity to buy low and sell high, right?

Yet, they intervened, which meant someone like Mr Miller, someone on par with Rothschild, must have asked for a favour.

Good grief, helping out quietly like this... I feel grateful despite myself...

I ought to find some good willow wood and make him a cricket bat.

"Then, may I leave now?"

"Huh? Ah, yes. You've worked hard. Here, take this."

The officer handed me some pocket money, suggesting I buy a snack on the way.

I had thought he treated me like a minor before... this confirmed it.

I mean, I know Anglo-Saxon whites of this era look old for their age, but do you know how old I am to be giving me this! Do you know how much I earn now?

"Thank you!"

Well, that's that, and this is this.

"Ha ha, yes. Make sure to relay this to Mr Jin."

"Understood."

Maintaining good relations with Scotland Yard isn't bad. As a small citizen, it's beneficial to stay friendly with state authorities, right?

I was smiling as I left the London Police headquarters.

"Hey, you there?"

A face I hadn't seen in a while, but somewhat familiar, was there.

"Oh... Doctor?"

It was the doctor I met at the pub before.

He was entering the London Police headquarters.

"It's really, really been a long time!!"