Chapter 188: Black October - VI

“Ivan recently started seeing a new girlfriend. I’ve met her; she’s different from before—more of a bookworm. This time, I won’t oppose it!”

An investor standing by the phone spoke casually to his wife. “We should focus on our little sweetheart and not let her become the type we dislike…”

He talked gently about ordinary family matters. Though his wife didn’t understand why her husband, usually impatient with her and their two children, suddenly changed and began caring about their lives and the family, she thought it was a good sign.

Even God said that if someone suddenly recognizes and tries to fix past mistakes, that person is good.

Being bad for even a minute is too long, but being good early is never too soon.

After listening, his wife told him she had prepared a hearty dinner—steak, chicken cutlet, some fruit—and was waiting for him.

The investor said nothing. After saying goodbye, he hung up, lit a cigarette, and headed to the rooftop.

After climbing long stairs and walking through dark corridors, stepping onto the bright rooftop of the Opulent Exchange Building, the open view refreshed him.

For a moment, he didn’t want to die.

Yes, he was there to jump.

But he quickly convinced himself otherwise, lighting another cigarette as he walked toward the edge, saying, “There’s no going back!”

“No going back.” A simple phrase that shattered his hope of continuing to live. Like most financial investors, he was bold and loved risk.

Making money with his own capital rarely earned more than the principal in a day—that was the limit.

But with leveraged funds, he could earn more than his own capital within minutes.

And he was dealing with futures contracts—if you play, play big. This was the wildest thought in every financial investor’s mind.

Many hide this thought deep down because they know it can lead to either creation or destruction.

Yet, after six continuous years of rising federal financial markets, nearly every stock was climbing—some faster, some slower. Except for a few unlucky ones who bought falling or stagnant stocks, almost everyone was making money.

When friends around him used leverage to achieve better returns and stand taller, he was tempted.

From 10x, 50x, 100x to now 200x futures contracts, the snowball effect made it impossible to stop or turn back.

More than half a month ago, one incident wiped out years of his efforts. This time, it sentenced him to death.

Sitting at the rooftop edge, he looked down. Waves of dizziness and nausea overwhelmed him, mixed with a fear of death.

His final thought: could I solve these problems without dying? In less than a second, he told himself it was impossible.

Tens of millions in debt crushed him, his family, and his children. They would never catch a break—maybe for generations—because their creditors were banks.

Now, the only solution was suicide. Suicide could solve these problems.

The funds he borrowed from the bank were for leveraged financial investments—only for himself. His family had not benefited and would not bear the consequences.

His lawyer would help free them. To ensure his wife and children would know what to do, he wrote a will, wrapped it in waterproof gloves, and placed it in his jacket pocket.

Now, with a cigarette between his lips, he looked up at the sky. The blue sky seemed to have a purifying power.

He lightly jumped forward, twisted in midair, his gaze lingering on the sky. He felt he would dissolve into that blue.

Ten seconds later, a loud thud echoed—a life left this world full of filth and sin, breaking the most fragile line in people’s hearts.

The three major exchanges and investors learned of this simultaneously. Panic selling, which had paused after the president’s speech, resumed—and this time, some clearly did it deliberately.

Futures contracts could bet on rising or falling prices.

Some institutions began short selling openly and covertly, some investors quickly closed positions and reversed direction. A disaster instantly turned from despair into ruthless plunder.

Under multiple forces, the defense line was broken.

Half an hour later, the presidential office issued an order to shut down trading again. The three major exchanges immediately complied and stopped public trading.

But this did not stop after-hours trading. Even without visible price boards, people still frantically sold, traded, and matched orders.

The whole street went mad!

The next day, Tuesday, the last day of October, at the opening bell, all stock prices dropped by at least 30%. Over twenty stocks were delisted for falling below minimum holding prices. The real crash had just begun.

In a second-floor café on Financial Street, Lynch and Vera’s eyes were briefly drawn to a corpse on the sidewalk across the street.

Vera quickly turned her face away. This was their fourth witnessed suicide by jumping. This street had gone mad!

The café had only these two customers, making it feel as if they had the place to themselves.

“I feel unwell. I need a moment…” Vera lowered her head, staring at the coffee and snacks. She was actually thinking about her and Gap’s investments.

They had invested in many stocks over the years, all continuing to pour in. The devastation here gave her a suffocating feeling, like someone was choking her.

Gap had always managed their stocks. Liston was a listed company, and he was the financial supervisor with access to insider info.

He only ever told Vera how much they earned but never whether they used leverage. Vera felt she had to ask. Using her excuse, she said she felt unwell but really wanted to make a call.

Lynch nodded slightly. Vera grabbed her purse and left quickly, her shoes nearly unable to keep up. Her ankle seemed injured, but she pressed on, disappearing from Lynch’s sight.

Lynch sipped his coffee, watching the desperate people outside. Suddenly, something flashed past his eyes, then a loud thud came from below. Blood sprayed onto the second-floor glass from the impact pressure.

The thick blood slowly trickled down the glass. Lynch leaned out and saw another twitching body on the sidewalk.

His mood remained steady. He knew all the jumpers were essentially gamblers.

They borrowed from banks, used company money, even leveraged hundreds of times to invest.In the face of the stock crash, there wasn’t even a chance for forced liquidation—they missed countless index opportunities.

They were gambling: winning meant hundreds of times the return; losing meant only a life.

Before today, people didn’t care about ten or five Sol, but after today, even one Sol was considered valuable.

Lynch needed a local’s help, and the first person he thought of was George.

He must have good friends in Eminence, and Director Johnson would do as well. With the financial tsunami arriving, everyone was struggling. Johnson couldn’t support two households unless Lynch helped him.

Mutual help is what friends do; it made no sense for Lynch to help alone while Johnson did nothing.

While thinking this over, Vera returned from the restroom. Her expression had softened. Though her brows still furrowed slightly when she walked, it was clear she was feeling somewhat better than before.

They had received confirmation from Gap that their investments didn’t involve loans or leverage. Their savings covered their investments, which eased Vera’s mind.

Though the losses were severe this time, at least they wouldn’t be burdened with debts they could never repay in their lifetime.

The two sat for a while, watching the brutal street spectacles. Vera quickly grew numb to it all.

In just over half an hour, they witnessed at least seven jumpers. The whole city was surrounded by sirens and people jumping from buildings.

“It’s so tragic,” Vera sighed, her emotions showing.

Lynch nodded. “This is actually a man-made disaster…” Vera’s curiosity piqued, but Lynch didn’t want to elaborate. Instead, he shifted his gaze to Vera’s swollen ankle. “Maybe there are more important things for us to focus on.”

He stood, crouched down, patted his thigh, and smiled at Vera. “Come on, let me see your ankle!”

Instantly, Vera’s face flushed as if she had just downed a strong drink—deep red.