“Thorns?”

“Not many people use thorns!”

“Gephra’s Catholicism is a bit different from yours. In religion, thorns symbolize penance.”

“When clergy believe they’ve done wrong, they whip themselves with thorns until they feel they’ve atoned.”

“In older laws, there were punishments involving thorns. Some people would be stripped and thrown into a thorn bush—if they could walk out the other side, they wouldn’t face any further penalties.”

“In the cultures of this island, thorns are seen as too serious. They’re associated with crime, guilt, and punishment, so few people use them.”

This is also a cultural issue. In Gephra, the religious symbolism of thorns has turned them into a cultural icon.

In many religious paintings, God is often depicted lying in thorns, bleeding. The meaning behind such images has made ordinary people distant from thorns.

After hearing all this, Lynch thought for a moment. “I’ll go with it.”

“You should be sure about this. Once it’s decided, it can’t be changed,” Jania warned. Such a solemn symbol wasn’t really suitable for a family crest.

It could give the impression that the family leaned heavily toward religion. The conflict between religion and state had only recently ended—this wasn’t an ideal choice.

For a time, thorns were even considered something from hell, with their ugly appearance and sharp spikes. People believed only the devil’s birthplace could produce such a terrifying plant.

In any case, it wasn’t a good choice.

“I think it’s fine. I can’t just use roses like everyone else. I want something that sets me apart, that reflects my personality. I’m a Federation citizen, I—”

“I know, I know—stand out, be free!” Jania cut him off before he could finish. Lynch always deflected her objections this way.

Every time they disagreed, he’d start talking about the Federation.

Freedom, liberty, dying for liberty—those things.

There was even a child in the Federation named Me and His Mom Couldn’t Think of a Name. Yes, that wasn’t a sentence—it was literally the child’s name, and it was legally recognized.

After getting to know how absurd Federation citizens could be, Jania had given up trying to argue with Lynch. She couldn’t win.

“Alright, thorns. But it can’t be just thorns, right? What else?”

Lynch thought. “Flames. And gold coins.”

Jania was speechless at his choices. Flame motifs were used by some, but they weren’t mainstream.

Nobles didn’t typically favor natural elements. Flames might add a sense of grandeur, but they also made everything look like it was engulfed in fire.

As for gold coins—no noble had ever used them in their crest. It was far too tacky. Nobles were supposed to be refined and elegant; how could they do something so vulgar?

“I… have nothing more to say. Do whatever you want.” Jania gave up trying to change his mind.

With the help of a specialist heraldic artist, Lynch submitted his sketch to the Privy Council. The nobles there weren’t particularly warm or cold to him—just distant.

It was a subtle sort of detachment. Lynch wasn’t of imperial blood, and he was only a non-hereditary noble.

Once he died, his children wouldn’t be nobles. The hereditary aristocrats of the Council didn’t care much for such short-lived titles.

On the way back, Jania suddenly asked, “You’re leaving soon, aren’t you?”

After his ennoblement ceremony, Lynch had no reason to stay. He also suspected some people didn’t want him sticking around.

He knew when to speak and when to stay silent. Jania sighed, “In the end, we’ll have to part. Once your crest and banner are registered, the Council will host an event to celebrate the new nobles. You should stay for that.”

“The nobles in the Privy Council may not have much real power, but their families are old, and they still have influence among the people…”

These were refined nobles—no political power, but strong influence. Lynch nodded. “I know what to do.”

They stopped to grab some local snacks. Gephra was too small to have any real regional specialties, but they made do.

“Remember a few days ago, you told me there was something off about Harmony Capital?”

They’d been dancing at the time, and Lynch had just casually brought it up, like commenting on the weather.

Both were eating loose potato cakes wrapped around fish as they walked. Passersby occasionally gave them second glances.

In Gephra, eating while walking wasn’t considered elegant, and bits of food could end up everywhere.

But neither of them cared.

“I did. I looked into how the company makes money. Their annualized returns are nearly 100%. Do you know what the highest-yielding fund in the Federation returned last year?”

Jania didn’t really understand what he was saying—only a few keywords made sense. Still, she played along and asked, “How much?”

“Less than 13%. Even though our economy is recovering, all the major funds are still cautious. The lowest only gave a 9.8% return.”

“Gephra’s economy is in similar shape—hit by issues, needs restructuring. So what kind of business could possibly bring a company nearly 100% annual returns?”

Lynch shook his head. He finished off the last of his potato-and-fish wrap and tossed the paper into a nearby trash bin. A butler immediately approached and handed him a towel.

He wiped his mouth and hands, returned the towel, and said thanks.

“So I believe something’s wrong. Based on Harmony Capital’s current operations, there’s no way it can sustain those kinds of returns.”

Jania shook her head, feeling like her intelligence was being insulted.

She didn’t even dare ask the obvious: “Why can’t its business model support such high returns?” She just stared at Lynch.

Lynch smiled. “I heard you bought Harmony stock?”

Jania perked up. This was a topic she understood. “Yes, over three million. It’s already gone up to almost eight million. My financial advisor said the Q4 report will look great. That’ll all reflect in the stock market…”

Earning millions in just a few days—faster than robbing a bank—had her addicted to watching her account balance grow each morning.

Although she was a royal noblewoman, she wasn’t as wealthy as people imagined. The money and power of the royal family were controlled by the emperor. Members of the royal family like her only received a fixed annual allowance.

It wasn’t much, which was why many royals appeared publicly—they had to build their own careers, or they’d end up living in hardship.

Jania’s financial advisor told her it was time to invest more. She was tempted.

But she vaguely remembered Lynch mentioning the matter before, so she brought it up today on purpose.

“You can wait a bit,” Lynch said, “but my personal suggestion is to sell it off as soon as possible. There are serious issues with this stock.”

He stood by the trash bin as Jania finished cleaning her hands and mouth. Then they continued walking side by side down the street.

“It has major inherent problems. If it weren’t listed, few people would know about it, and those issues wouldn’t come to light.”

“But it is listed—and it’s made headlines with its miracles. That kind of attention draws scrutiny. Someone, out of jealousy or other motives, will eventually expose the lie.”

“Not to mention, exposing a lie can also be profitable.”

Jania nodded thoughtfully. “I trust you.”

Thinking about the money in her account, she parted ways with Lynch halfway and went home.

She called her financial advisor, who worked for the Royal Bank—a royal institution, meaning he was, in a way, one of their own.

“I want you to sell all my Harmony Capital shares,” she said as soon as they met.

The advisor was caught off guard. Just yesterday, they had discussed buying more. Now she wanted to sell everything—something must have happened that he didn’t know about.

“Your Highness, may I ask who advised you to do this?”

“Or did you hear something specific?”

He didn’t believe Jania had made this decision on her own—someone must have influenced her.

Jania didn’t avoid the question and gave a direct answer. “I spoke with Baron Lynch today about the stock. He believes it’s dangerous and advised me to stay away from it for now.”

“I’ve thought it through. I’ve already made several million from it, and I’m very satisfied with that. History tells us greed never ends well—so just handle it for me.”

The advisor was still curious. “May I ask what the specific reason is?”