Chapter 108: Miracles Happen Every Day

ICO Exchange Priority Trading Seat Breaks Another Record!

Early in the morning, Lynch sat in the dining room, watching a maid in a miniskirt move about in front of him. She bent over now and then, diligently keeping the room clean. Though the chores were simple, she managed to create a rather different kind of atmosphere.

Lynch knew very well that this woman, in her twenties, wanted a more intimate relationship with him.

Five years ago, a beautiful woman—regardless of skill—could still land a job as a receptionist, office secretary, or even an executive assistant, as long as she was pretty enough.

But now, five years later, many of them had lost those positions. The nature of their past work had eroded their ability to function in normal jobs.

Still, Lynch believed most of them would manage just fine. Over the past five years, they’d developed… alternative survival skills.

Shifting his gaze away from the maid’s thin, sheer stockings, Lynch picked up the Trade Journal and was immediately drawn to page three.

There were three major exchanges in the Baylor Federation: ICO, United, and Opulent, located respectively in the administrative center, the economic hub, and the capital of the southern state of Desland. But their main trading halls were all in the federal capital.

Due to limitations in information transmission, the three exchanges had jointly developed a more advanced information processing system to share accurate data and trading info more quickly.

Yet even this system had distance-related constraints, so the main trading floors were placed together in the capital. Trading halls in other regions often experienced slight delays—usually twenty seconds to a minute.

How long the delay was depended on national telecom traffic. Fewer calls meant faster updates.

As a result, anyone serious about finance would go to Eminence, the capital, to trade.

With all three exchanges located in one district, the area became known as the jewel in the crown. The richest elites and capitalists from across the Federation—and even from abroad—gathered there, living in a world ruled by numbers.

Just walking down that street, one could see the full spectrum of life.

Some, aged sixty or seventy, still walked with vigor, their faces full of confidence and calm.

Others, just in their twenties or thirties, already struggled to move forward, their faces weighed down with a weariness that had no place in youth.

This place was magical—countless people driven mad by numbers, countless others buried by them.

To be part of that world, to become the center of attention, all one needed was a trading seat at one of the three major exchanges.

Due to the limitations in processing power, transactions still had to be matched manually. That meant they couldn’t handle too many trades at once, so exchanges set limits on trading volume.

It sounded outdated, but it minimized errors.

At first, there were few restrictions on trading seats. But as more capital flowed in, the three exchanges capped the number of seats—turning them into valuable assets.

Originally priced at thirty to fifty thousand, trading seat prices soared. Just yesterday, a priority seat at Opulent Exchange was sold for a staggering one million, breaking the previous record of 970,000—set before Lynch’s arrival in this world.

Why were these seats so valuable? Because they were limited.

Even if someone had a trading account and stood inside the exchange, without a seat, they were mere spectators.

To buy or sell stocks, they needed a trader to execute the orders.

But with the entire world’s attention focused on this market—and a limited number of traders and seats—why would a trader prioritize a random individual?

Maybe in the beginning. But with brokerage firms and financial companies on the rise, ordinary people were gradually pushed out.

Now, to trade, you first had to find a broker. The brokerage, which owned trading seats at one of the three exchanges, would classify you based on your capital, allocate resources accordingly, and take a commission.

Today, around 60% of all trading seats are controlled by brokerage firms.

Yesterday’s million-Sol priority seat was acquired by a company called Lebaille Financial Management.

Priority seats offer faster matching, which means greater profits—or minimized losses.

The power of a brokerage firm was judged by how many priority seats it held.

A crazy era.

Lynch looked at the paper filled with praise for the Federation’s financial prosperity and couldn’t help but sneer. Once the wave of industrial collapse swept the nation, scenes like this would become rare.

If finance was the superstructure, then industry was the foundation. And the more damaged the foundation became, the more dangerous it was to keep building upward.

With global wars ending, the international capital that had flooded into the Federation during wartime was starting to withdraw—and the pace would only accelerate. A financial crisis in the Baylor Federation was inevitable.

This was a foreseeable reality. Compared to the political and economic benefits of rebuilding war-torn nations, gambling in the high-risk financial games of the Federation was no longer an attractive option.

Previously, investors treated the Federation as a safe haven—booming economy, neutral in war, and zero risk of having their assets destroyed or seized.

But now that better options existed, they would leave—just as easily as they had come.

Capital and capitalists were shameless and without loyalty. The only thing close to a principle they held was the pursuit of profit.

Nothing else could stand in their way.

Just as fervently as they had once embraced the Federation, they would abandon it even more ruthlessly.

As for whether pulling out their funds—the same funds that had built this floating city of finance—would cause collapse, they wouldn’t care.

Lynch set down the paper and sipped a glass of milk. Freshly squeezed, still warm.

The maid didn’t seem to understand why Lynch liked heated milk and couldn’t appreciate the rich, creamy taste—or the slight gaminess.

Fresh, unprocessed milk wasn’t perfect. Many found it hard to stomach. Luckily, Lynch wasn’t one of them.

He was already thinking: after the financial collapse, maybe he could sweep up some trading seats.

Seats worth a million today might be worth what—five thousand?

Ten thousand?

A terrifyingly valuable resource. It might take time for their value to rebound, but not more than ten years. A solid investment.

Besides, Eminence was the heart of the Federation. Lynch never planned to stay in Sabin City forever.

He needed to visit the most prosperous place in the world—leave his mark. Even if it was just to take a piss and prove he’d been there.