Chapter 110 – On the Brink of Collapse

In early October 1929, while I was making a fuss over striking oil in Texas, America’s Dow Index was wrapped in a subtle yet eerie excitement.
Everyone was watching the stock movements, which kept repeating small rises and falls.

On October 1, at the annual meeting of the American Bankers Association, the chairman hinted, “The increase in small loans outstanding is becoming a problem.” So there were indeed wise men present.
But, of course, there were also those who could not be called wise.

In response, on the 5th, a certain professor of economics declared, “Stock prices will rise significantly within a few months.”

Later studies concluded that U.S. industrial production had already been in decline, and it was analyzed that this professor had simply failed to pay attention to the real economy.
What’s more, on the 23rd, he rebutted concerns about rising stocks by claiming, “Stock prices will remain in a permanently high plateau.”

Yes, that was the very day before everything plunged into the abyss.

As for me, starting from mid-October, I repeatedly held talks with the great financial dynasties—Morgan, Mellon, Rockefeller, and the like.
Since they already knew more than a little about the “mask” I wore, agents close to the core of their families and conglomerates visited the mansion where I was staying, each on different days.

The main topic was consulting about major purchases in America using the enormous amount of dollars I had gained.
And as a sort of “small talk” at those times, we always ended up discussing the Dow Index. 

Of course, they were curious that I had already cashed out completely.

But it was already too late. A line I’d heard somewhere before, but nothing else came to mind.
Whether it was just me alone, or even if the Ootori Zaibatsu poured in massive investments, it would still only be a drop in the ocean. 

Even discovering a giant oil field hadn’t changed anything. Compared to the total of 90 billion dollars, my 2 billion was insignificant.

As proof of that, just as only I and a select few I had told knew, the Dow Index kept moving exactly as it had been.

At this point, there was no denying or delaying the abyss.
No—if something different happened now, I would be the one shocked.

With an eerie accuracy that went beyond even fear, it kept tracing the exact same line burned into my mind from the graph I remembered.

So to the people I met, even though I thought it useless, I did my best to somehow send the message that the current movements of stock prices were dangerous.

They would have to pull out on their own, but if they wanted to sell everything, so be it.
If they wanted to prepare to inject capital into the market to withstand the crash, that was fine too. 

If they had some brilliant idea, they could use it. In fact, if they had any countermeasure at all, I truly wanted them to act on it.

But since I didn’t trust myself not to recklessly inject huge sums of capital if my heart wavered, I had ordered Tokita strictly to make sure that, for the time being, I couldn’t easily move large amounts of money.
If I didn’t do that, I was terrified that I too might end up joining the dance of ruin.

At the same time, since I had resolved to be a witness to history, when the week of “Black Thursday” arrived, I began making daily trips to Wall Street starting from Monday.

For security reasons, I had already informed them of my visits, so there was no shortage of things to do on Wall Street.
From morning until evening I stayed there, having ten o’clock tea, lunch, and three o’clock tea with representatives of various departments of the great financial dynasties.

Personally, I thought it was better to do so for the sake of future business dealings as well. And at every single meeting, I continued wearing the mask of calm composure.

Though I knew “X Day” was supposed to be Thursday, I had already altered history in some ways, so I figured a margin of error of a few days was only natural.
But Wednesday passed without incident. 

And on Thursday morning, I went as usual to the heart of Wall Street—the New York Stock Exchange.

“How do you think the others see me?”

“Of course, they expect you’ll be returning to buy in any time now.”

Sebastian, following at my side, declared it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Tokita, standing on the opposite side, wore an agreeing look as well. 

Since it was Tokita who had been handling the actual trading up until now, those with at least some familiarity with the market looked to him rather than at me, the strange kid in exotic clothing.

And those who truly knew the reality looked at me.
Yet, as far as I could see across the trading floor, no one was looking my way.

No—there was one.

A man in a conspicuous suit was heading toward me.
It was Robert Smith, the Morgan Company’s negotiator assigned to me.

“Princess Phoenix, a pleasure to see you.”

“Not in the slightest, Mister Smith.”

I returned his exaggeratedly formal greeting with deliberate displeasure.

To me, this place was already the very center of hell.
Normally, I would put on the mask of a refined young lady, but since I knew today was the day of destiny, my nerves were even more frayed than usual.

If it weren’t for the purpose I had imposed upon myself, I’d be lazing about in my mansion as a means of escaping reality.
No—more than that, I wouldn’t even have come all the way to America in the first place.

But Smith, sent from the Morgans, had no way of knowing what was going on inside me.

He made a gesture as if to say, “Now that’s troubling.”

“Is there some dissatisfaction? If so, we will exert every effort to remove it for you.”

“Thank you very much. However, this is something I believe no one could possibly take away.”

“No one, you say? Is that the reason you’ve been frequenting here this week?”

“For someone like me, who holds no stocks, to be uneasy—it’s laughable, isn’t it?”

“No, your concerns are quite understandable. As for us, since the beginning of this month, our forecast has been that, in the worst case, we must be prepared for stagnation on the scale of the first half of this year.”

(So that means around 310 dollars, huh. Even over the next half-year, I wish they’d see it as at least 50 dollars lower. But then again, every dollar drop wipes out 200 million dollars, so of course such pessimism won’t come out of their mouths.)

“You seem dissatisfied.”

“Not dissatisfied—just overly cautious, that’s all.”

“When someone who placed such a tremendous gamble, and then won it in such spectacular fashion, says such things, it only makes us all the more uneasy. But what is it that troubles you so deeply? Could you not, even just in part, enlighten me? If so, perhaps I could offer some sound advice.”

Since he asked me so directly, I couldn’t very well remain silent. So I gave at least one piece of advice.

“Could you gather as much capital as possible—funds that can be injected into the market immediately? For us, nearly all of our money is tied up with predetermined uses, and it pains me greatly that we cannot move it recklessly.”

“If that is the case, then you need not worry. We too have made sufficient preparations against unforeseen circumstances.”

With an expression that seemed to say, Ah, so that’s all it is, he declared it confidently, full of self-assurance in both face and manner.
Yes, they are the pros of all pros in finance. 

They think ahead, and prepare for the unexpected more than an amateur like me ever could.

But their preparation is no better than believing a one-meter seawall is enough against a ten-meter tsunami. And that is something I know.

Still, since the professionals are saying they are perfectly prepared, all I can do is keep my smile fixed and answer like this:

“Yes, of course. Forgive me for my amateurish thinking. But I feel reassured now.”

“Not at all. It is our great honor to have been able to put the Princess’s concerns at ease.”

It was at the very moment Mr. Smith finished saying that, that the heart of the exchange began to stir with commotion.