After Harmony Capital provided more detailed information, the Finance Department stopped blocking their IPO.

All their qualifications met the minimum listing standards, and with noble backing, the Finance Department gave their consent after a mere formality.

Although Harmony’s business model seemed a bit off, no operational accidents had occurred so far.

Both early and late purchasers of the Harmony Gold Bonds continued to receive steady dividends.

Physical stores were gradually opening, and they even organized customers to experience miner life at the gold mines, allowing people to see the gold mines for themselves.

Each bondholder who participated received souvenirs—photos of themselves mining with pickaxes or gold ore stamped with Harmony Capital.

With jewelry shops opened and operations underway, the company completed its last project.

Lynch glanced at the report; tomorrow was their official listing day.

He set down the paper, leaned back on the sofa, and pondered.

He had to admit, Richard was an exceptional salesman. Since meeting him, Lynch understood this clearly.

Richard’s desire far exceeded everyone else’s, and he never hid it. He worshiped and obeyed desire, which gave him a terrifying drive to keep pushing forward.

A man willing to abandon all principles for money, purely ruled by desire.

While other salesmen worried about maintaining client relations, Richard treated older clients like parents and used unethical relationships with women—no limits—to maintain connections.

His client loyalty was highest because he had no limits yet met most client needs.

What surprised Lynch was Richard’s ambition to push Harmony Capital public—and succeeding.

Lynch’s original plan was to have Richard run high-interest financing here. In Gephra’s local financial market, nobles held strong control, and post-war nobles hadn’t gained expected profits.

If nobles found an easy way to harvest wealth from society’s bottom, they would recklessly reclaim their lost assets.

Noble representatives would aggressively absorb social capital—only to explode one after another.

For nobles, losing one or two underlings was acceptable with no major reputational damage if it meant massive funding. Even if risky, they’d plunge in.

Once one person started, others would follow.

By the time Gephra’s top leaders—emperor and ministers—reacted, the country’s economy would collapse.

Massive funds would flow into noble hands, who would hoard it, not spending quickly.

Wealth circulation would hit unprecedented lows; a new wave of bankruptcies was imminent. Gephra’s economy would be fragile as paper, breaking at the slightest touch.

That was Lynch’s plan—to poison Gephra and harvest its wealth through international finance.

He never expected Richard to boldly push Harmony Capital public, exposing something meant to stay hidden.

This would reveal problems to some and hinder Lynch’s original plan.

Harvesting Gephra wasn’t about patriotism, just choosing the best way at the right time to earn wealth and fame.

Being hailed a national hero for harvesting Gephra was far more valuable than money; harvesting other countries only earned you a reputation as a vicious dog.

Glancing at the confident Richard in the paper, Lynch sighed silently. That guy…

“Book an appointment with the Royal Bank’s president. I want to see him as soon as possible,” Lynch told the butler.

The Imperial Hotel was Gephra’s top hotel because both its builders and operators were royal family members.

In this country, nothing carried weight like the word royal. Even low-quality items labeled royal use easily extracted wealth from the lower classes.

The hotel’s strong background meant broad social connections. The temporary butler bowed and left.

Shortly after, he returned. “Baron, the Royal Bank president will meet you at 3:15 PM for a twenty-minute slot in his office.”

The butler avoided formal phrases like awaiting your arrival, indicating the bank president was also a noble. Gephra’s rigid class system dictated different manners between classes, a key reason the Federation disliked them—they saw Federation people as the lowest class.

Though true—they were commoners—this still irritated many.

After a brief, mediocre local lunch, Lynch took the hotel’s car at 2:30 PM to the Royal Bank headquarters.

Gephra had many banks, but only three were truly respectable.

First was the Royal Bank, owned by the royal family and major nobles, with a long history.

Second was the Alliance Bank, owned by numerous nobles.

Before modernization, Gephra’s feudal system had each lord with their own bank in their domains, leading to dozens or hundreds of noble banks.

After modernization and the severe reduction of noble power, these merged through reforms into the Alliance Bank.

Third was the capitalist-founded Goldsail Bank, also partly owned by nobles, but mostly by capitalists.

It started at the docks, lending merchants money for trade, charging interest plus commissions.

It was the only bank not controlled by nobles.

There were other personal or family banks but none competitive with these three, becoming mere historical relics.

In the Federation, any financial activity depended on support from these three banks.

At 3:12 PM, Lynch was in the Royal Bank’s lobby. Gephra people valued punctuality to the minute.

They wouldn’t arrive early but never late. Federation people were often surprised by Gephra’s punctuality—arriving seconds before appointments, never missing.

Of course, those who don’t keep time aren’t included.

It’s a habit, a cultural trait.

From downstairs to upstairs, the temporary butler knocked on the bank president’s office door. The nearby wall clock showed exactly one minute before 3:15.

The second hand moved—about fifty seconds left.

“Please come in…”

The door was pushed open by the butler, who didn’t enter but stood aside.

The president, a count, stood up—nobles showed respect by standing to each other. He neither stepped forward nor circled around, as his rank was much higher than Lynch’s.

“Mr. Lynch, you’re very punctual!” He extended his hand for a shake, then invited Lynch to sit. “Please, have a seat.”

They sat opposite each other, separated by a modest yet extremely luxurious desk. The president pressed a button on the phone. “Send in two coffees and some pastries…” He looked at Lynch. “Milk and sugar?”

Lynch shook his head. The president smiled more. “No milk or sugar.”

After releasing his hand, he straightened his posture. “I hear Federation people like their coffee with lots of milk and sugar until the original flavor is completely changed.”

It sounded like an explanation but was actually a proud, even arrogant, sarcasm. The ideological struggle between Gephra and the Federation had a long history and had become an international cultural quirk.

Lynch calmly replied, “It’s like our life—sweet and happy.”

The president smiled and didn’t press further. His sarcasm lacked any anger, and Lynch’s response was equally measured.

They had formed a first impression of each other.

Just then, a girl entered with the coffee and pastries.

The coffee was strong, slightly bitter and oily but not astringent. The roasting time and temperature exceeded that of Federation coffee beans.

That’s why Gephra’s afternoon tea pastries were very sweet—sometimes cloyingly so to Federation people—to balance the coffee’s bitterness.

Gephra people didn’t add sugar to coffee; instead, they put sugar directly into their mouths.

After the girl left, the president stirred his coffee. “Mr. Lynch, how can I assist you?”

Lynch circled around before stating his requests.

“A few things.”

“First, I need to open a bank account and a trading account.”

“Second, I want to redeem half of my bonds and deposit that into the trading account, keeping the rest in the bank.”

“Third, I need financing!”