Chapter 56: The Most Frightening Force in Society Is Man Himself

How luxurious can an office be?

It’s a pointless question. People’s definitions of luxury vary, so there are countless interpretations. But this room was indeed luxurious.

A gilded ceiling, a chandelier made of natural crystal, animal heads like bears and lions mounted on the walls, and a display case housing two human-sized ivory tusks—such simple décor made the room’s extravagance unmistakable.

However, like most offices, everything in the room belonged to the company, except for a few personal items owned by the employee who used it.

His name was George Griman, manager of the credit department at the Sabin City branch of Golden Exchange Bank.

This type of executive manager was very different from the client managers outside. George was just one step away from being promoted to branch president—but it was a step few could cross.

Unlike many official institutions, where the second-highest-ranking local official can rise directly to the top, promotions within Golden Exchange Bank worked differently. George, if promoted, might be transferred to a regional division or headquarters, effectively starting over at mid-level.

The title of branch president was not just a difference in name. And truthfully, George never really thought he could become one—it was extremely unlikely.

He lacked the necessary capital. He had no backing on the bank’s board of directors, and they looked down on a credit department head from a second-tier city’s branch. This made his career path long and difficult. Fortunately, he was easily content with his current situation.

At forty-two, he had a successful career, a young and beautiful wife, and three lively, adorable children. If nothing major happened, he could stay in Sabin City until he was forty-eight, then transfer to a new post and make room for someone else.

The generous benefits of the bank meant he never worried about what would happen after he left a key position—high salary and high perks guaranteed a happy life.

Of course, everyone has their own little troubles, regardless of how glamorous they appear. Even someone as powerful as the President of the Baylor Federation isn’t immune to problems.

George’s current worry was that loan volume in Sabin City continued to decline. Though the number of loans no longer directly affected someone of his rank—

If performance was good, he might be mentioned by superiors at meetings.

If performance was poor, it was the front-line loan officers who would bear the brunt—though they were all called managers.

Still, it didn’t feel good. At the end of every year, Golden Exchange Bank offered an all-expenses-paid vacation. Employees from different regions, all part of the same group company, would gather and inevitably discuss their work.

Those who performed well would be praised and gain more chances for promotion—perhaps even becoming someone’s superior in the future.

Those who didn’t do well wouldn’t be mocked outright, but they’d be overshadowed in comparisons. That was unpleasant.

George wanted to solve this, but he had no solution. As one of the six major banks in the Baylor Federation, Golden Exchange Bank’s daily operations required deep understanding of financial markets and international economic trends.

Since the explosive economic growth of the Federation ended a few years ago, the economy had been sluggish.

The financial market remained active, without obvious decline, which made people keep calling this a temporary lull after the boom. They believed once the rebound phase passed, there would be another major growth cycle.

Everyone believed it. But wasn’t the rebound taking a bit too long? It had been almost three years. The stagnant market and weakening economy were starting to fray nerves. As the boom period’s dividends ended, people began waking up from blind optimism. Beneath the seemingly prosperous surface of the Federation, undercurrents were stirring.

In Sabin City alone, over two thousand businesses had been registered in the past seven months—but over six hundred small and micro-enterprises had gone bankrupt. It wasn’t that the bank couldn’t find borrowers. They just didn’t dare to lend.

If loans went bad, it would be a major problem. Officially, each branch was allotted some bad debt quota every year, but maxing that out would invite disaster—just one phone call could upend the entire branch’s personnel structure.

As the final approver, George remained cautious. He would rather not approve a single cent than be kicked out. He needed to stay in this position for a few more years, at least until all three of his children were adults and could be placed into the bank.

At his age, with little ambition left, his focus shifted to his children. Most people were like that.

While flipping through a slightly lewd magazine at his desk to kill time, one of his four phones rang. It was his private line—only close acquaintances had this number. After adjusting his mood slightly, he picked up the call.

“This is George Griman…”

“It’s me, Johnson. Are you free for lunch today?”

The voice on the other end belonged to the director of the local tax bureau.

The bank dealt with the tax bureau more frequently than with the Investigation Bureau. Though they often interacted with the investigators too, they didn’t like those people.

The tax bureau, in contrast, was easier to work with. It was a mutually beneficial relationship. Especially for the bank’s mid-to-high-level executives, whose income was several times, even dozens of times, higher than others—how to legally avoid taxes was a real headache. But if someone from the tax bureau helped organize their paperwork, things became much simpler.

In return, they cooperated fully with the tax bureau and occasionally shared insider info—like a promising fund or changes in a public company’s board.

George usually dealt with mid-level people like Michael. He knew Johnson and had met him a few times, but their interactions were rare.

Once someone reached Johnson’s level, the Federation’s Oversight Department would occasionally investigate them, checking for any misconduct in office.

The Federation didn’t pay much attention to lower-level or front-line staff. Even if they committed crimes, the societal damage was minimal. But when key local officials were involved, the consequences could be severe.

With the Oversight Department constantly watching, even if George had the chance to befriend Johnson, he would’ve kept his distance.

But now Johnson had reached out himself—he couldn’t avoid it. He simply said he was available.

Johnson invited him to lunch. It was an odd request—they weren’t close. Clearly, Johnson had something in mind.

After hanging up, George spent a long time trying to figure out why the tax bureau director had invited him out of the blue—but couldn’t. He could only prepare in advance, full of suspicion.

Meanwhile, twenty minutes before the appointed time, Lynch and Johnson had already arrived at the meeting location.

Even if George had cracked his skull open and eaten his own brain to boost intelligence, he never would’ve guessed—Johnson was just a middleman. The one who truly wanted to meet him was Lynch, an unremarkable nobody.