Chapter 111 – Black Thursday

(It’s begun.)

I shoved past the two macho bodyguards and hurried to a spot with a clear view. And then I witnessed the scene.

“—!!”

I hardly knew the details of the Great Depression, so the information and sights before me struck me just as vividly.

The time was 10:25.
The stock of General Motors, which until then had boasted an invincible high price, suddenly plunged. 

That very GM super blue-chip stock I had sold off in the first half of this year.

But in the roughly five minutes I stared at it with all my focus, the Dow itself showed little movement.
To the point where I even mistook it as not yet begun.

But the hammer had already fallen.

Right after I realized I had been straining myself too much and stepped back a little, around ten minutes before 11 a.m., the entire stock market tilted into a single wave of selling.

It was as if the explosion had been delayed only because the thing was too massive.

Beside me, Mr. Smith—who at first had even had the composure to soothe me—was now staring in a daze as the castle built upon sand collapsed.
I kept watching him, half detached, thinking that this was the very image of investors all across America right now.

If the price drops by one dollar, two hundred million dollars vanish. 

There had been declines before, but they always bounced back, and there had been optimism that prices would eventually rise.

But this time was different—there was no recovery.
Only sell orders, driving prices down further and further. 

The scale of the drop was different. The volume being sold was different.
Both kept growing larger and larger. 

It felt as if I could almost hear the hallucinated sound of collapse.

No, it wasn’t a hallucination.

Faces twisted in despair, gestures of anguish, and outright screams grew louder with time.
And they never diminished. 

Among them, I could even hear voices of prayer.

After perhaps thirty minutes, Mr. Smith finally turned to me with a face that looked as if his soul had been drained.
When he recognized me, his expression shifted dramatically. 

Far more human than the stage-like composure he had worn until then.

“Princess, do you believe this to be only temporary?”

His voice, unlike before, was hoarse, stripped bare of anything else.
And within it, I felt either hatred or fear toward me. 

Even as he spoke, his eyes began to change, as if looking at some kind of monster.

“If only it were temporary, I would be glad. But we must assume the worst.”

“…Forgive my rudeness, but there’s no chance you learned of this situation through some supernatural means, is there?”

It was as if he were asking me outright whether I was some kind of prophet.
And that question only came because until now he had never believed in nonsense like “priestesses.”

But my answer to that had been decided long ago.

“If that were the case, I would have made much more profit.”

I looked him straight in the eyes and declared firmly, then let a brief pause hang in the air.

That alone helped Mr. Smith regains some measure of composure.
Likely because it was a statement that aligned with his common sense.

Once I confirmed he had calmed down, I continued.

“Mr. Smith, because I lived in Japan, I was always able to observe this place from the outside. Thanks to my position, I was also able to come into contact with a wide variety of information. There were capable people who investigated matters for me. There were wise men who gave me answers. That is why I was able to win, and at the same time, recognize the danger.

Furthermore, I should say this: I did try to warn others of the danger. More than once or twice I conveyed my concerns directly. But everyone only laughed, calling me overly anxious. Since no one took my words seriously, I came to a strange understanding—that this must be what it feels like to be a fool.”

My words were both the result of creating a sort of alibi in advance, just in case, and also the result of desperately doing everything I could because I had been unbearably anxious about whether things would really unfold as they had in my previous life.

In response, Mr. Smith’s voice came out in a murmur.

“…Indeed, yes, that’s right. No—was right. The documents from Ootori’s think tank also reached Morgan & Co. And yet everyone laughed, saying the little Orientals were cowardly fools. If those guys could make two billion, we’d make two hundred billion dollars. But, Princess, you are right. No, you were right.

Princess, fully admitting that you were correct, I ask you this: do you think it is possible to recover from here? If so, what kind of measures do you think might exist?”

As he spoke, Mr. Smith regained a bit of confidence—no, regained himself—and his eyes regained their strength as he looked at me.

But there was nothing more I could say.

(If it had been a year ago, maybe it would have been a little better…)

“There is… nothing, then?”

It must have shown on my face, because Mr. Smith’s expression shifted into disappointment.
But I steeled myself, thinking that as a form of shock therapy, the only choice left was to make him recognize the reality of the situation, at least a little.

“If you could prepare ten billion dollars, then that would be a different matter. But the actual amount of currency circulating in America isn’t even half of that. And most of those enormous numbers of dollars that only exist on paper can’t be moved immediately. Even so, unless something extraordinary is done, it will only serve as a temporary stopgap. The dam has already burst. And what burst was the world’s largest dam, filled to its limit with water made of dollars that had no real substance.”

“…Indeed, you are absolutely right. Then, as a temporary measure, if a coalition were to intervene in the market and inject a massive amount of capital, do you think this situation could be contained?”

Those words reminded me of what I had said a little while ago.

So I nodded.

“It may only be a stopgap measure, but I think that’s the only option left. However, judging from this devastation, with only the amount of money that can be gathered immediately, I wonder how long it can really hold back…”

“Even so, we cannot afford not to act. Many have surely already begun moving. I, too, will push to prepare as much funding as possible. In that case, I must beg your pardon.”

“Please, don’t mind me. Go ahead. Ah, and if you do form a coalition to support the market, please make sure to let me know. These past several years, I’ve enjoyed myself greatly thanks to all this. I’d like to return the favor, if only a little.”

“I will certainly convey those words to my superiors. And I will be sure to contact you. Then, if you’ll excuse me.”

With that, without any pretense or even a bow, Mr. Smith left.

Only we were left behind.
It was a place isolated from others for the most part, but all around there was nothing but noise.

If scenes like those I’d only ever seen in history textbooks were truly unfolding across all of Wall Street, then even getting back from here would be a struggle.

“Yagami-san, Wan-san, Shizu, let’s move to a nearby hotel. Tokita.”

With a sharp “Yes,” and a bow of the head, Shizu immediately set into motion, while beside her, Tokita fixed me with a stern gaze.

“Reiko ojou-sama, as per your instructions, the Phoenix Fund has no dollars we can move at present.”

“But, knowing you, Tokita, you’ve kept at least a little, haven’t you?”

When I replied with that and gave him a slightly pleading look, he answered with a genuine bitter smile. That was just like Tokita.

“One million dollars, at most. Nothing more. And I believe that amount is sufficient.”

(Only one million dollars, huh. I thought Tokita would have prepared at least a digit more than that, but I suppose that just shows how precarious I seemed to him.)

Most likely, that thought showed plainly on my face, because just as Tokita was about to say something more, Sebastian, who had been silent until then, stepped half a step forward.

And then he held out a slip of paper.

It was a check made out for one million dollars.

“It may not be ten million, but here is another one million.”

“Whose money is that?”

“Since I resolved to serve you, Princess, I found no need for it and disposed of my companies and such. Please use it however you see fit.”

“That won’t do.”

“I have enjoyed myself greatly these past few years, following after you, Princess. If you think of it as the price for that, then nothing could be more fitting.”

Saying that, he pushed the check forward again, and for a while, Sebastian and I glared at each other.
Most likely, Sebastian had been waiting for a chance like this. 

Even as we stared each other down, there was a faint smile tugging at his lips.

There was no choice but to yield. 

Besides, deep down, I was extremely happy.

“Then, I’ll borrow it for a little while. I’ll return it with plenty of interest, so don’t forget.”

To that reply, he said nothing—only bowed deeply.

Yes, Sebastian sought neither interest nor profit.
What he desired was to gain my personal trust. 

In that regard, he had succeeded brilliantly.

I didn’t know why he was so devoted to me, but both I and Ootori, in public and in private, had been placed in Sebastian’s debt.
No—I had received his favor. 

Thanks to him, when the all-American effort to prop up the stock market took place later today or tomorrow, I would be able to prepare not just one million dollars, but two million.

The size of the sum wasn’t what mattered, but the greater it was, the greater the favor we could sell to the American leadership.
However, had Tokita actually prepared ten million dollars, that amount would have been far too large.

After all, from the perspective of America’s leadership, we were nothing more than gamblers who had made a huge killing.
I had already told them, “We’ll be doing a lot of shopping later, so please overlook it,” but we couldn’t afford to act high and mighty. 

Doing so might trample on the pride of others who were also joining the support effort.

And besides, we couldn’t afford to give too much. 

Moderation was best in all things.

Sebastian had probably judged the amount by his sense as an American.
Tokita thought one million was sufficient, but Sebastian had decided that about double that was the perfect balance.

To begin with, the idea that Sebastian’s total fortune just happened to be exactly one million dollars was far too convenient.

Perhaps he was implicitly saying, “Leave it to me.”

But my thoughts were a little different.
Now that my share of involvement in this matter had been decided, I had to start thinking ahead.

“Tokita, I’m effectively removing you from the position of my chief butler. Instead, you’ll keep your seat in Phoenix Fund for the time being, and you’ll take at least the position of vice president in Ootori Trading, sitting at the center of future business expansion. As your successor, I’ll appoint Sebastian as my butler or secretary, and he will assist you. Also, Sebastian, anyone among your subordinates who wishes to come along will all be welcomed in. Is that alright?”

“Y-yes, ma’am!”

“As you command.”

While Sebastian momentarily burst into an expression of delight, Tokita remained standing calmly as always.
Even though what I’d just said was practically the same as declaring that Uncle Genji was nothing more than a mere figurehead, his face stayed composed.

Then, with the look of someone who already knew the answer, he asked:

“What about America?”

“Shopping in America will be postponed for a while. Negotiations will come to us in Japan even if we stay put. Here, we just need to buy up what’s necessary at the right time and at the right price. First of all, we have to put out the fire of this uproar before it spreads to Japan. Alright then, everyone, let’s head back. We have no more business here.”

“Understood.”

At the same time as Tokita’s words, everyone around me lowered their heads at their own respective angles.

―――――――――――――――――――

Participation in the market support immediately after the Great Depression broke out:
In the story, two million dollars was presented as the “fair price” for an outsider, a person of color, but please take it as an ironic expression meant for clarity.
Also, assuming a value difference of 3,000 times compared to the Heisei-era yen, it would amount to about 12 billion yen.

If considered as ready cash, it would certainly not be mere pocket change.