I Resign From the Coin Mercenary Knights

The blonde maiden with an intellectual beauty and an aura of subdued light, Ember Hyde, was spending her time at the salon as per usual.

The salon – a social gathering space for the nobility’s daily interactions.

Originally propagated by a past hero as a place to discuss literature and philosophy, it had since become a simple venue for nobles to socialize over tea. Setting aside the commoner exclusivity, the prices were quite reasonable.

Ever since childhood, Ember had found solace in this place.

The salon was one of the few spaces where she could truly feel like a noblewoman. Perhaps because there were many ladies like Ember, she had never been treated as an oddity here.

However, her reasons for frequenting the salon had shifted somewhat lately.

Whereas in the past she had come to observe the nobles’ interactions, she now visited purely for the purpose of reading. Not just idly leafing through books as accessories, but reading with a clear intent.

[Introductory Public Administration]

That was the title of the book lying open before her.

Not the kind of book read for pleasure, but rather a compilation of the basic administrative skills required for entry-level public officials serving in the Empire’s institutions.

While senior bureaucrats were naturally recruited from the academy’s public administration department, entry-level clerks were simply hired after passing rudimentary exams.

Ember’s reading of such material was also career-oriented, though not of her own volition – her father had subtly encouraged her to do so.

Ember, you can’t laze about at home forever. It would be better if you had some kind of position, even a minor one.

If you meet the basic requirements, I can arrange for you to work at a nearby tax office or the like. I still carry that much influence as your father.

Her dearly loving father wasn’t simply urging her to find employment for financial reasons.

‘He likely wants to make it easier for me to find a new match in the future.’

The Empire’s men, not being fools, tended to avoid marrying women who had simply lounged at home living off allowances, suspecting their chastity with quips like, “How could she have spent all that time alone?” Outstanding beauty alone was insufficient.

Having an occupation would at least provide a credible excuse.

Understanding her father’s intentions, Ember had acquiesced to his suggestion.

Of course, she still struggled to focus on reading due to the lingering aftereffects of her broken engagement. But holding a book, even idly scribbling, was preferable to listlessly staring at the ceiling all day.

‘As a public official, I may have to work in the same space as commoners… even younger commoners than myself. …Not that such considerations matter now.’

Half her time was spent reading, the other half consumed by pensive sighs, eventually failing to turn the pages at all.

It was then that a voice intruded upon Ember’s tranquility.

“What, a delayed opening? What kind of nonsense is this?”

“They’re citing facility maintenance for the late opening, a few hours behind schedule. Something must have broken down.”

“Like I’d believe such a pathetic excuse. Don’t run your mouth if you haven’t invested in Codanas.”

“Mind your tone? I tagged along because I was worried.”

A noisy group who seemed to be academy students had entered, their robust physiques suggesting the knight faculty.

Around half were visibly excited, while the rest struggled to placate them. One student appeared utterly oblivious, muttering about missing sword practice despite the commotion around him.

‘Why are academy students here at this hour?’

With her studying having already stalled, Ember perked up her ears and began eavesdropping on their conversation, her hearing exceptionally keen.

“…It might not be as dire a situation as we fear, so let’s not get ahead of ourselves. So far it’s just suspicious circumstances.”

“Suspicious indeed. Didn’t you hear about the three Black Iron Knights killed? Only a lizardman capable of slaying three experts simultaneously could do that. It has to be the Humanoid Lord, still alive.”

“You idiot, watch your mouth. Are you saying the hero lied in his report?”

“Then what else could it be?”

A false… report?

Ember gasped, nearly dropping the pen in her hand.

She had always taken an interest in the hero party’s exploits, though not solely due to her former fiancé’s involvement.

Anyone living in the Imperial City paid attention to the hero party’s activities, as they directly impacted the Empire’s security.

It was only recently that the entire city had been abuzz over the hero defeating the Humanoid Lord and the Demon King’s downfall being imminent. So why was the supposedly slain Humanoid Lord reappearing?

Unable to make sense of it, Ember could only blink in bewilderment. The idea of the hero filing a false report was simply unbelievable to her.

But whether Ember believed it or not, the academy students continued their heated debate.

“Haah. Rather than bickering in the salon, shouldn’t we wait in front of the exchange?”

“That’s true, but I’m worried about skipping lectures.”

“Don’t be. Most professors likely hold a Codana or two themselves. I doubt many proper lectures are even taking place… Heard the arcane faculty’s Professor Weaver cashed out his pension to buy four units, so he’s probably in the dumps by now.”

“Think prices will drop to 32 million by the end of today? But considering how steadily they’ve been climbing, I doubt they’ll plummet that suddenly.”

Even their chatter alone conveyed an unsettling shift in the atmosphere.

The academy had been among the most enthusiastic institutions responding to the Codana market.

With the hero party’s knight and mage being alumni, and hero worship being rampant among the students, it was no surprise that these nobly-born youths could afford a Codana or two.

It was said nearly a third of all students were Codana investors – not idle gossip to be dismissed.

‘Could Codanas really collapse? No, surely not.’

The Codana market had a relatively short history, consistently rising in value over that span.

There were occasional periods of stagnation, but those never lasted long, as news of the hero party’s exploits would swiftly revitalize investor interest.

The belief that Codanas would continuously appreciate until the Demon King’s defeat was deeply rooted in the public psyche.

And yet that belief was being shaken for the first time, clearly the reason behind the exchange’s delayed opening.

Some indescribable upheaval loomed – even Ember, perusing an introductory public administration text in the salon, could sense it in her bones.

At the Codana Exchange.

The exchange staff were seated with expressions of trepidation.

As a rule, the Codana exchange opened around 9 AM daily.

But today, they had postponed opening until nearly noon, citing ‘facility maintenance’ as the pretext – which nobody believed.

The staff knew they would face backlash for such delays, yet today they truly had no choice.

Opening the exchange doors without contingencies could unleash unimaginable chaos.

Of course, delaying the open wouldn’t provide any viable solutions.

“Haah. How many people are gathered outside?”

“Yes, I just checked – over 300 at this point. …Not an overwhelming number, strictly speaking.”

“The number isn’t the problem. I’m worried about what orders those people will place. This is maddening.”

“We should open soon. We can’t postpone it any longer.”

A few more hours of delay wouldn’t change the bigger picture, but the issue was the anxious crowd waiting outside the exchange.

Nobles, high-ranking noble-born officials and officers. Or prosperous quasi-nobles and commoner tycoons who had accumulated wealth through commercial enterprises, if not pedigree.

Even ordinary individuals were established self-employed professionals or legal professionals.

They were all gathered outside the exchange, murmuring in hushed tones.

The Humanoid Lord’s survival, the hero’s false report, the colossal off-market transaction between the Church Empire and Second Prince…

While the Codana exchange hardly possessed the gravitas of, say, the Minister of Justice trading blows with the Imperial Guard’s Deputy Commander, having such crowds loitering for hours wasn’t something to be taken lightly either.

“Any word from the Imperial Palace? Or the hero? Nothing at all?”

“Well… The palace has only stated their stance of contacting the hero to ascertain the truth. It seems the off-market deal was conducted solely by the Second Prince… The Court Administration also appears to be in disarray.”

“Haah.”

It seemed pandemonium had broken out within the palace as well.

In the end, the exchange director opted to wave the white flag. After announcing that maintenance was complete, he cautiously reopened the exchange doors.

Praying desperately that no catastrophe beyond his ability to manage would unfold.

Fortunately, no riots erupted immediately after opening.

The atmosphere was certainly turbulent, but not to the extent of deranged rampaging. People simply rushed towards the counters with frantic expressions.

However, the calm was short-lived.

“Sell 2 units, on-site settlement.”

“At yesterday’s closing price of 38 million? Place a sell order for 5 units at that rate.”

Everyone who had entered the exchange wished to sell. A continuous stream of people lined up hoping to offload at the previous day’s closing price.

60 units, 105 units, 138 units.

The outstanding sell orders rapidly piled up, with some even listing units at 37 million, desperate for a swift sale.

Yet there wasn’t a single buyer to be found.

The faces of the exchange staff accepting the orders rapidly hardened.

Typically, when sell orders accumulated to such an extent, the pricing staff would guide sellers to relist at lower prices to find an equilibrium between pricing and volume.

Under normal circumstances, even adjusting by a mere 1 million would swiftly prompt buy orders.

But now, there was no way to gauge how far prices would need to drop before attracting buyers.

36 million? Or 35, maybe even 34 million?

Or could it be –

The investors traded pallid looks, as if seeking confirmation that their neighbors shared the same dreadful realization.

Of course, no one provided a verbal answer – it was unnecessary. They all instinctively felt it.

“…No. Stop this.”

A young nobleman’s anguished murmur. But it was already too late to halt it. A phenomenon previously unseen in the Codana market had manifested, taking physical form.

It was a crash.