Chapter 190: Evaporation

“This is Mr. Lynch…”

Manson entered the room with a man carrying a briefcase. Thanks to the suite at the Eminence Grand Hotel, everyone who entered showed a certain respect.

Maybe it was because Lynch could still produce money today, or out of respect for the hotel.

The man was dressed in expensive formalwear, though it looked like it hadn’t been carefully maintained for some time.

High-quality clothes require careful care, sometimes even manual handling. These clothes aren’t tougher than a baby—they need proper temperature and humidity for storage.

He sat down carefully, wearing a somewhat ingratiating smile, wary of displeasing Lynch. Then he placed the briefcase on the coffee table between them and opened it.

Inside were neatly arranged war bonds, which, the moment the case opened, released a scent like that of cash—an aroma from special dye.

Manson stood to the side and introduced, “One million two hundred thousand in bonds, at 3.7% of face value…”

The largest denomination was 100 Sol, the smallest 5 Sol. The 100-Sol bonds were mainly for institutions, the smaller denominations for individuals.

But whether for institutions or individuals, the bonds had lost their original value.

Lynch casually picked up a stack. This wasn’t his first time handling these bonds, but he enjoyed the unique feeling.

In another world, money was just a number, like in some sci-fi novels where in the future people no longer carried cash—some terrifying scientific entity handled transactions and adjusted account numbers.

That was reality in another world. Money was just digits. In the latter half of his life, Lynch had never touched cash and had forgotten how it felt.

Now, this stack of bonds gave him a satisfaction, security, and fulfillment he hadn’t felt before.

The heavy texture and raised printing made them hardly different from real money. Bonds and currency were made similarly, with similar anti-counterfeiting measures.

These bonds were about twenty centimeters long and fifteen wide, looking as exquisite as works of art.

After flipping through a few pages, he tossed them back and looked at Vera.

Vera quickly calculated the amount Lynch needed to pay, wrote the number on his transfer check, which Lynch signed and pushed across the table.

The man opposite gave a strange expression upon seeing the check—a look of relief. After all, the bond market was worsening, and everyone feared they’d become worthless.

Yet he felt discomfort too. He had spent a lot buying those bonds and wouldn’t have sold them if his funds hadn’t been so tight that he was forced to sell whatever he could.

Deep down, he still believed there might be a chance to recover.

They exchanged little more. After shaking hands, Manson escorted the man out.

Lynch set the bonds aside.

“How much do we still have?”

Vera checked her notebook and gave an exact figure, “1,784,525 Sol.”

Lynch sat back on the sofa, complaining, “Much slower than I thought. I expected it to be quicker.”

Vera said nothing. Sometimes Lynch spoke not to others but to himself—something she’d only recently noticed.

Living closely with someone reveals things unnoticed before. She found it interesting; few people mixed self-talk into conversations. It made dialogue hard.

At first, she didn’t know whether or how to respond, but after a few days, she learned to handle it.

Moments later, after Manson sent off his client, he returned to collect his fee.

No one helps others for nothing. Every action is driven by motivation—some obvious, some not.

Manson’s motivation to help Lynch wasn’t related to George but to Lynch’s money.

By their agreement, Manson would receive 2% of the cash transaction amount as his fee. This time, with a transaction of 44,400 Sol, he earned 888 Sol.

Tapping the fresh check, Manson was pleased with Lynch’s straightforwardness. Unlike some employers who might try to shave off small amounts, Lynch never deducted a single Sol or cent. Manson trusted him.

Lynch gestured to the sofa opposite. After securing the check, Manson sat.

“We’re buying too slowly. It’s time to speed this up—I can’t stay here much longer.”

Manson frowned slightly. “There are still relatively few large bond holders. Some don’t intend to sell their bonds—at least not at our price.”

Such holders dominate among big players. Without urgent cash needs, they can wait.

Lynch nodded noncommittally and offered another idea. “Maybe we can acquire bonds from ordinary holders.”

Manson’s brow furrowed. Buying from retail holders was effective; compared to a few big players, retail bonds made up the bulk.

“But those scattered bonds will cause us trouble. We might not get a break all day!”

Lynch smiled at Manson. “3.8%. No matter what you pay, I’ll buy back from you at 3.8%. Deal?”

At first, Manson had warned Lynch that specifying war bonds might push prices above his initial estimate. No one expected the market to worsen so much, or rather, the situation to turn out so badly.

Some international news began reporting the financial disaster in the Baylor Federation. The industrial index was halved in four days and kept falling with no support.

Stocks shrank; the federation’s financial market evaporated by hundreds of billions. Last year, the federation’s total output was only 1.879 trillion Sol. This disaster wiped out most of that wealth.

This made some hesitant investors act and sell bonds, but the market fluctuated.

When conditions worsen, prices fall. Sometimes no pressure is needed—those needing cash urgently cause price swings.

Beyond the market, some newspapers published in-depth reports blaming the current ruling party and presidential cabinet.

They accused them of foreseeing the disaster in July but being diplomatically incompetent, leaving people to watch helplessly as the crisis erupted.

Rumors even spread that in the next large-scale war, the Baylor Federation might be affected and unable to remain neutral.

Amid political turmoil, a financial crisis, and international hardships, the value of bonds held by domestic holders in the federation steadily declined.

Manson thought for a moment. If he bought them himself, he could push the price even lower. The idea tempted him—money, or wealth, is the primary motivation for work and life.

“I can give it a try, but I can’t guarantee it will be done quickly…”

After shaking hands, Manson didn’t leave immediately but brought up another matter. “Lynch, I have many friends here. Some of my work can’t avoid everyone’s attention.”

Lynch nodded. Manson continued, “Recently, people noticed I’m working for you. Someone suggested all buyers meet—partly to avoid future conflicts, partly to prepare for upcoming issues.”

Manson understood Lynch’s general plan. Most buying bonds against the trend shared similar goals. If they all aimed the same way, why not talk? Maybe cooperation would come later.

They didn’t know Lynch personally. Sending an invitation directly to him felt abrupt, so they entrusted the task to Manson.

Lynch had no reason to refuse. When goals align, why not join forces?

A project this large requires many hands and effort.

After Lynch agreed, Manson left to prepare funds to buy bonds from retail holders—an easier task than expected.

The logic was simple: those able to spend hundreds of thousands in cash to buy millions in bonds could sell some assets and hold on.

But those spending only thousands or tens of thousands often had no way out.

Even 100 Sol could be a lifeline for them.