Chapter Thirty-Five: "The Ignorant Masses"

According to intelligence from Gear City, Mr. Marshall, the banker, was a workaholic. He took great pride in his position at the Imperial United Reserve Bank, and at the very least, his work ethic was beyond reproach; the morning after being cured of his fits of hysterical laughter, he had returned to his desk.

When Ivy and Ethan entered, Marshall was already seated, dressed in a suit, surrounded by a mountain of paperwork. Miss Chloe had remained outside under a tree, as the bank staff had strictly emphasized that no pets were allowed inside.

Marshall glanced up at the pair, his brow furrowing at the sight of the hardtack Ethan was cradling in his arms. It was Ethan’s breakfast. On the way here, he had explained the many virtues of hardtack to Ivy: it was cheap, excellent for staving off hunger, and could even serve as a weapon in a pinch. In a game, it would surely be an epic-tier item.

Ethan stayed by the door, tactfully keeping his distance. He had noticed not only Marshall’s look but also the banker's tongue when he took a sip of water. It was still black, looking as if he were on the verge of dying from poison.

"There is more to Loksan’s death than meets the eye," Ivy said, explaining the case. Before coming to the Imperial United Reserve Bank, they had obtained the Riverside death register from Captain Haig. Using her reconstruction ability, Ivy had found the names of Loksan’s wife and daughter on the third page. Their cause of death, like the other residents of Riverside, was drinking from a cursed water source while completely off guard. The knowledge imparted by the Astrological Society was not yet sufficient to break a witch’s curse.

"His wife and daughter died in Riverside; that was the direct cause of him taking his own life."

Yet, there was one thing Ivy and Ethan had not been able to reconcile: why did a curse appear in Loksan’s ledger? Why was Marshall the only one to take that ledger, and why did he conceal this crucial information in his request for help from Gear City?

"Is that so? I see..." Marshall stared at the death list for a long time, then lowered his head and clenched his fists. His reaction caught Ethan off guard. He hadn't expected someone like Marshall to feel sorrow over Loksan’s death, but upon reflection, it made sense—after all, Mr. Loksan had brought joy to many in Creekwood, and perhaps Marshall was no exception.

"Wastes..."

Marshall’s next words brought Ethan’s thoughts to a screeching halt. It began as a soft whisper, then grew louder and more intense. His demeanor no longer suggested grief, but rage. He slammed his clenched fist onto the desk, sending items scattering.

"Useless things, dregs of the lowest social order, spineless curs! Don't they know how much effort I’ve poured into them?"

When Ethan heard Marshall describe Loksan in such terms, his mind went blank. He even thought he might be hallucinating, as he could hardly imagine anyone, upon learning the truth of the case, uttering such venomous words. But Marshall’s tirade continued, relentless, leaving no room for the illusion of a mistake.

Ethan’s incredulous gaze swept over Marshall’s rotund frame and lingered for a few seconds. Then, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. In his mind, he pictured the cup on the desk, the water within it trembling and splashing everywhere. Drinking water in the office was simply too dangerous; it posed a genuine threat to personal safety. According to the latest Containment Bureau report, water was the most toxic substance in the world—every deceased person had, at some point in their life, consumed it.

Ivy waited quietly for Marshall to finish his outburst before speaking. "The files from the Containment Bureau mention that you personally requested to be transferred to the Creekwood branch."

Marshall’s loss of composure confirmed her suspicion. Why would a young noble from a prestigious background make such a request? There were plenty of other opportunities for him to enjoy a comfortable, gilded path.

"Because the people in Creekwood are quite useful, aren't they? They don't like to read, they are short-sighted, and when faced with an unsolvable problem, they blindly trust others, viewing anyone who offers a helping hand as a lifeline... Such a bunch of ignorant, shallow fools—even if they accidentally stumbled upon a treasure, they wouldn't have the vision to realize it, would they?"

At these words, Marshall paused. Ivy came from the same environment and knew how much the great noble families were willing to invest in a gifted young transcendent. They would invite these youths into their homes, treat them as guests, and unconditionally cover their tuition if they so desired. This was the rule by which the world had always operated. Consequently, the power of transcendent individuals was often held by those with wealth and influence; those individuals were creations built with money.

However, Marshall had discovered a more cost-effective path. During the growth of these transcendent individuals, he would burden them with massive debt, and then, using the debt as collateral, sell them to the powerful elites of the Imperial Capital. Why couldn't a transcendent be treated as a commodity? When Marshall sent his proposal to the headquarters, he received an almost immediate response. The headquarters was very impressed with his plan and gave him the opportunity to realize it.

"If Loksan’s ledger is transported back to the Gear City branch as a cursed object, the research department will analyze it. In the process, they will inevitably examine every single debt recorded within those pages," Ivy said, voicing her deduction. "The training of a magician certainly requires a large sum of money, but exactly how much? Enough to force a future transcendent to sell themselves just to pay it off?"

In reality, Loksan had no concept of these sums, nor did he understand how interest would inflate over time. He certainly never knew that when the debt became impossible to repay, it would be transferred to his daughter. But the people at the Containment Bureau would be able to see it. They could even identify which loans among the many were entirely unnecessary.

From Marshall’s angry reaction, it was clear he believed Loksan’s daughter would eventually fetch a high price, serving as his stepping stone into the inner circles of the Imperial United Reserve Bank headquarters. Ivy looked at the scattered documents on the desk; among them was a debt transfer agreement. On it was a familiar name—the name of Loksan’s daughter. Debt did not disappear with a person's death; this was a rule established by the Imperial United Reserve Bank. The living would take the place of the deceased, bearing all that they owed.

"As investigators for the Containment Bureau, you are overstepping your bounds," Marshall said, glaring at Ivy with fierce eyes. "I am under no obligation to explain the bank's specific operations to you."

"Recovering cursed objects is my duty."

"About that matter," Marshall said, waving his hand impatiently. "You are no longer needed. Thank you for your hard work. The letter from Gear City should be arriving any moment now."

Before the words had even faded, the screech of a falcon echoed from outside the window. A kestrel landed on the office sill. It had brought the orders from the Gear City Containment Bureau.