“Richard, are we… leaving?”

In the room, the heroes of Harmony Capital sat together after days of celebration. The biggest change brought by the company’s IPO was that each of their personal assets had more than tripled.

Harmony Capital’s stock price, after surpassing nine Sol, had settled back to $7.70, with less volatility.

Overall, while it was slightly disappointing that the price didn’t exceed ten Sol, the IPO was still a success regardless of the current price.

Richard wasn’t drinking. Over the past few days, he’d been drinking, smoking, and indulging constantly. His head throbbed.

It didn’t hurt if he stayed still, but any movement made it worse. At this point, he didn’t want alcohol, or cigarettes, or women—he just wanted to sit quietly and rest.

He slowly leaned back into the sofa, exhaling. “We’re not leaving for now. Our funds are enough to keep things running. We’ll wait until the fourth-quarter financial report comes out at the end of the year, then we pull out.”

“You all can start preparing for the exit now. If necessary… we leave immediately.”

Harmony Capital was a scam. Richard had known that from the start. It wasn’t a healthy, stable, legitimate business. It was a fraud.

A fraud built around Lynch as the core, with Richard filling in the rest.

Even now, while some people had begun to suspect it was a scam, no one dared act recklessly—too much money was involved, and nobles were backing it.

Unless there was concrete evidence proving that Harmony Capital was committing financial crimes and would wipe people out, no one would dare touch it.

Who knew if they might suddenly pivot and turn the whole thing into a seemingly legitimate business? As long as the company kept paying out to bondholders, no one would touch the ticking time bomb.

Although the scam hadn’t yet been exposed, Richard insisted they prepare to leave by year’s end.

Every scam gets exposed eventually. He wasn’t about to gamble on this one.

“Just over a month left—fewer than 50 days,” Richard said, as if reassuring both the others and himself.

In less than 50 days, the fourth-quarter financials would be released as usual.

As a publicly traded company, Harmony Capital had to disclose its operations. It wasn’t like a private equity fund that could stay quiet.

Once those financials were out, they would trigger another surge. People would only see the sky-high profits behind the low operating costs. A stock this good would obviously become a market darling.

At that point, they’d dump their shares and get out.

The money would be smuggled out or laundered through various channels. Richard had already made contact with the right people to ensure his wealth wouldn’t shrink too much.

Once he left Gephra, with that much money in hand, whether he wanted to start over, keep scamming, or retire in peace—it would all be more than enough.

“Less than 50 days!” His voice grew firm. He waved the others over. “Even though we’ve only got 50 days, we need to stay sharp.”

He began assigning tasks. Richard was an extremely capable man—personally and as a manager.

But his ambition and greed were too intense—he was never going to work under someone else for long.

“First, you two—watch the stock market. If there’s a sell-off before the earnings report, as long as it’s not too large, we’ll buy the shares ourselves.”

“I want the stock to break ten Sol after the report—not fall back to five or six and climb again. That would waste too much time.”

“Next, you and you—focus on PR. I want more people noticing our upward trend. More promos, more marketing. We must keep the hype going.”

“If needed, pay to create some buzz. Hire some fiction writers to make up stories—whatever it takes, we can’t lose the public’s attention!”

“And inform those detectives—keep tracking our targets. Once we cash out in 50 days, we’re done—we can retire early!”

“Life is short, gentlemen. This may be the most glorious moment of our lives. Don’t screw it up.”

“If things go south, it won’t just be me who’s angry—got it?”

Everyone nodded—faces a mix of excitement, tension, and a trace of ruthlessness.

“Go get to work…” he said, lying back again. The others said their goodbyes and left—except one.

There’s a phrase from another world: Birds of a feather flock together. This world didn’t have such a refined idiom, but it had something similar:

A sheriff’s friend is a sheriff. A thief’s friend is a thief. Crude, but accurate.

The man who stayed behind was Richard’s true confidant. Richard rubbed his face and remained reclined, squinting at him. “Got the stuff?”

The man nodded. “Stored it in a warehouse on the outskirts. Want me to bring it here?”

They were talking about weapons—firearms.

Richard had a security team, but their gear was only for defense. The weapons he’d had his man purchase were for offense, if necessary.

If the Gephra Empire officially declared Harmony Capital illegal, those security guards would back off. At that point, they’d have to rely on themselves.

Richard was thinking ahead—preparing for the worst.

“No need… actually, bring two or three pistols. Hide them somewhere. Just the two of us know—understood?”

After seeing the other man nod in confirmation, Richard finally relaxed. “Go rest. I’m really exhausted.”

Once his confidant left, Richard was alone in the room. But he didn’t feel afraid—there were still people outside protecting him.

In other rooms, servants stood by, ready to answer his call.

Maybe it was real exhaustion—Richard didn’t return to his bedroom. He fell into a deep sleep on the couch, clothes still on.

The next morning, Lynch rolled out of bed. Nobles still had lots of troublesome matters to deal with—like the family crest.

Although most nobles no longer used family crests, the Privy Council required them to be registered.

They kept a thick book recording each noble family’s crest, banner design, and a profile of the current family head and notable members.

These things were originally created to commemorate the past. During the era of the lords, every established noble had to be familiar with the number of noble families in the empire, what their crests looked like, what their banners looked like, who their heads and key members were, and what their personalities were like.

This knowledge was passed down as part of family studies, and any child in a noble family aspiring to inheritance had to master it.

Back then, wars could break out at any moment—between two nobles or among many.

When facing a coalition force, the leading noble had to quickly identify which families were present, who was in charge, and their temperament.

In the modern era, much of the nobility’s power has been stripped away by the royal family. The Privy Council is perhaps the last vestige of noble dignity.

Now, the nobles cling to the glory of their past within the Council, and that’s why they’ve required Lynch to submit his crest and banner as soon as possible.

“Designing a family crest and banner is very important. It’s not as simple as doodling something.”

Jania sat at the table explaining it to Lynch, who genuinely didn’t understand any of this.

“Usually, a family crest is built around local specialties of the territory—roses, tulips, wheat stalks, things like that—plus the family’s spirit.”

“A sword to represent martial strength, a shield for resilience, or more ostentatious symbols like an armored warhorse to show that the family is famed for cavalry.”

“But after territories were reclaimed and ennobled families lost their land, the options for crests became much broader.”

“Some include human faces now, or rare objects—like the Holy Grail, for example.”

“As for the banner, the base color, border, field, and imagery all need to align with the crest.”

“Do you have any ideas?”

Lynch’s mind was completely blank. He was articulate and knowledgeable in many areas, but designing a crest and banner was far beyond his expertise.

“From what you’re saying, it sounds like the nobles have already used up most of the options. Can I repeat something that’s already been used?”

Jania nodded. “Of course. But that would make your crest and banner less distinctive. You know, the public’s understanding of nobles starts with these traditional symbols before they get to know the person.”

That was the tradition in Gephra. People didn’t necessarily recognize a noble’s face, but they could recognize the crests and banners.

Not because they were forced to memorize them—it was simply tradition and custom. Schools would even teach some of it occasionally.

Once Lynch’s design was finalized, the Privy Council would publish it in all the newspapers, printing his crest and banner so the public could learn about it.

If the design was too generic, people might not remember it clearly.

Lynch rubbed his temples. “Has anyone used thorns?”