Blackstone Code

The federal government has a rule: to prevent corruption among its staff, all items that need to be auctioned must go through a third party, such as a bank.

At the same time, judicial authorities have the right to oversee the entire auction process to ensure there’s no foul play.

In fact, not only can judicial departments entrust banks with auctions, individuals can too.

Lynch wouldn’t handle these matters personally. He doesn’t have experts or professional firms for this sort of work. In other words, he couldn’t accurately assess the value of any collateral Mr. Herbes offered. So, he handed the task over to the bank.

He didn’t need the bank to auction the assets—just to appraise them and store all related documents and items in the bank’s vault.

Ordinary people couldn’t get banks to do that. Though banks seem to serve the public, they actually hold ordinary people in the least regard.

They bow and scrape to the wealthy, but act high and mighty toward regular folks. Even time is priced openly—at the VIP lounge.

The poor might spend an entire day waiting in line, but the rich get the best service at any time. Lynch was one of those VIPs.

Herbes’s people would deliver his valuables—the appraisable ones—to the bank for evaluation. Once that was complete, Lynch would sign a mortgage loan agreement with him, and then the federal government would issue the funds.

Was it a trap? Absolutely. Even if Mr. Herbes knew it was a trap, he had to jump in.

Because jumping in was his only shot at survival. He was betting that his own cunning could outplay Lynch’s scheming. As long as he liquidated the entire ten billion Valier quickly, he might recover 10 to 20 million Federal Sol.

That was his estimate based on fire-sale prices. In reality, the Valier-to-Federal Sol exchange rate hadn’t even dropped to 200:1 yet. But trying to cash out at market prices was nearly impossible.

With the Nagaryll situation in flux and panic selling already underway, even those who might try to bottom fish would wait. They’d only act when the market was completely dead—when Valier had sunk to the bottom, buried in silt.

For now, they were content to watch Valier crash.

To convince anyone to take the bait, you had to be willing to go all in—and that was precisely why Mr. Herbes couldn’t refuse when Lynch threw out “ten billion.”

At the current international rate, that equaled about 60 million Federal Sol. If he broke his own legs and sold it all for 20 million—or even 15 million—he could still scrape together at least 10 to 20 million.

That amount was enough to patch most of his financial holes—and maybe even leave a little surplus.

Even if he ended up with less, just enough to cover investor losses and take some of the hit himself, the investors would stay intact.

And as long as investors didn’t suffer heavy losses, they’d start to believe things like: Mr. Herbes turned the tide in the face of disaster with his skillful maneuvering. He minimized losses. His ability and character are incredible—we should keep investing with him.

They’d trust him even more than before. With that money, there was still hope of making a comeback.

That’s why he had to grit his teeth and take the leap, even knowing it might be a trap.

Bank appraisers would squeeze him dry—push valuations to the limit to extract the last drop of value.

After walking out of the hotel, Mr. Herbes’s demeanor shifted. The weakness he showed in front of Lynch was gone. Surprisingly, he had become resolute.

Standing by the car, he glanced back at the hotel, as if his eyes could pierce through the sunlit glass and stare directly at Lynch’s face.

Moments later, he got in the car and left quickly.

Back home, he contacted asset management firms around the country, instructing them to compile asset statements. At the same time, he had his butler prepare a substantial gift—a truly valuable one. He was going to visit the Minister of Finance.

Aside from the 10 billion in Lynch’s hands, Herbes still had one last hope—the wager between him and Lynch.