Every inch of the lavish, exquisitely decorated room reeked of wealth. Priceless art, gold, and gems were scattered throughout, creating an illusion—
That these items, so casually placed, were actually not worth much at all.
But that illusion only existed inside this room. Once one stepped out into the cold wind beyond those doors, it beca clear—things were not as beautiful as they seed.
Art was valuable. Gold and gems too. But a noble title was worth even more.
There were two types of noble titles in the Gephra Empire. The first was hereditary nobility—most of whom dated back to the warring lord era. Their families had been noble for generations, and they remained so to this day.
These titles could not be casually touched by the emperor. Only a full vote by the Privy Council could make the slightest adjustnt, and even then, only a minor one. Hereditary nobility ford the foundation of the Privy Council, and its mbers knew it well. They would never allow the emperor to interfere freely with hereditary titles.
The second type erged during the Post-Gephra period, after the royal family consolidated power and unified the empire.
At that point, the age of lords was nearing its end. When the emperor conferred noble titles, he no longer granted hereditary ones.
Hereditary titles, in truth, brought little benefit to the nation. They ca with various privileges. Capitalists looking to grow and expand couldn’t do so without noble support.
This led to a lack of competitiveness in Gephra’s dostic markets—everyone operated monopolies in their own fiefs, and there was no real competition.
Worse still, these nobles passed down their privileges through generations, distorting the social structure.
From that point on, the emperor no longer granted hereditary titles—only non-hereditary ones.
These non-hereditary nobles were divided into two types. The first type followed a diminishing inheritance: with each generation, the rank dropped. These titles never exceeded the rank of count.
Higher ranks—marquess, duke, and prince—were only granted during royal marriages, to elevate the status of lesser nobles so they could match a royal on paper.
These ranks had no right of inheritance. Their children would not inherit the title. Instead, a princess would need to personally petition the emperor for a renewed grant.
This was the second type of non-hereditary noble: single-generation titles. Once the person died, so did the title and all associated privileges.
But rules were rules—how they were enforced was another matter.
If a prince died, his title wouldn’t pass down. But if the princess had a close relationship with the royal family and emperor, the emperor might choose a favored descendant and grant the title again.
If the princess had fallen out of favor, and the emperor refused the request, the princely family would end with that generation. Their descendants would beco ordinary people with noble blood.
Aside from those who married into the royal family, others could also be ennobled—like the emperor’s cronies, jesters, and anyone who pleased him.
People like… Lynch.
These were minor nobles—barons, viscounts, or counts—whose titles ended with their deaths. But if they were close to the emperor and died while the emperor was still alive, he might reissue the title to their heir.
Still, in the eyes of traditional lordly nobility, these were lowborn—minor nobles who could lose their status at any ti if they fell out of favor or the emperor died.
If such a person had behaved modestly and kept a low profile, they could still live as wealthy commoners after losing their title.
But if their predecessor had acted arrogantly while in power, the nobles would take their revenge once the title was gone.
Nobles weren’t always as glamorous as people imagined. Only a few ever truly were.
So while they still held a shred of privilege—while they were still technically nobility—they stuck together. Sotis the Privy Council would even petition the emperor to renew a title.
In short, to stay wealthy and powerful, one had to make sacrifices.
In the room, well-dressed gentlen and lavishly adorned ladies gathered. The air slled pleasantly of floral incense, not the harsh chemicals of synthetic perfus.
The n discussed current affairs—as all nobles seed naturally inclined to do.
The ladies had their own circle, focused on a handso young man among them.
So made bold, outrageous comnts, but no one was surprised. Everyone was used to it.
So customs couldn’t be judged as right or wrong—they simply depended on need. When needed, they were good. When not, they were bad.
Lynch, seated among them, didn’t realize he had beco the topic of the ladies’ conversation. Occasionally, he’d glance their way, nodding with a smile, which only made them giggle louder.
“The pri minister has received his ticket. Next, he’ll form his own team.”
What had happened that morning in the Hall of Rule had unsurprisingly leaked—after all, the Hall and Parliant were often called “rooms without walls,” where nothing stayed secret.
A noble leaned in and said softly, “Mr. Lynch, do you think there’s a chance that we…?” He trailed off, watching Lynch with eager eyes.
The others were montarily stunned, their expressions subtly shifting.
If the pri minister was forming his own team, and he ca out on top in the power struggle, those on his team would gain real authority.
For nobles, the most painful thing was to have wealth, status, and influence—but no power.
They were more distinguished than ordinary officials, but it was the officials who held the real, untouchable power.
If they could get close to the pri minister now—beco one of “his people”—and he succeeded, they would finally grasp true power.
These minor nobles were suddenly less reserved. Their gazes toward Lynch burned with excitent.
But Lynch shook his head. “That’s impossible.”
Then he explained in detail, to stop these fools from ssing up his plans behind his back.
“First, the pri minister is a high-ranking noble. He’ll only place his own family in the core positions.”
“As for the less important ones, those will be handed over to the Privy Council to select. His recent visit there was ant to show goodwill toward the nobility.”
“If the Privy Council sides with him and pressures His Majesty, then he’ll have to make so concessions.”
“As for us, we’re not even on the Pri Minister’s radar. At most, he’d throw us a few minor positions—like Deputy Chief of Police.”
“Taking those roles does nothing for us. Refusing them would offend the Pri Minister. So at this stage, you need to hold back—don’t make any sudden moves.”
Looking at their expressions, Lynch felt there was a reason these people were only minor nobles—and the poorest kind at that. Intelligence was clearly their weakness.
The one who asked the question looked discouraged. He nodded in acknowledgnt and went silent, lost in thought.
Then soone else raised a question: “Mr. Lynch, do you think the Pri Minister will succeed in this power struggle?”
The question ca suddenly. Both the nearby minor nobles and the ladies farther away were drawn in. The room fell silent.
Although the power struggle between the Pri Minister and the Emperor seed unrelated to them, it was, in fact, very closely tied to their own interests.
Lynch pressed his lips together, then made a gesture as if to hold a glass. The eager young Count—only nineteen—imdiately poured him a drink and handed it over, not feeling it beneath his status at all.
After moistening his throat with the fragrant wine, Lynch smiled and said, “There’s a high chance the Pri Minister will win…”
The room buzzed with quiet murmurs. Reactions varied, but most seed pleased with the answer.
Lynch had told them before: if the Pri Minister won, they would all make more money. If the Emperor won, it was ti to sell—holding on any longer would lead to losses.
From a profit standpoint, the Pri Minister winning was clearly in their favor.
The noble who had asked the question pressed further: “Then should we stand with the Pri Minister?”
The room quieted again. All eyes were on Lynch. Every word he spoke now carried the weight of truth.
He simply smiled and shook his head. “I haven’t decided whose side we’ll take yet.”
The noble opened his mouth to continue, but Lynch raised a hand to stop him. “I know what you’re going to ask. You want to know: if the Pri Minister is likely to win, why not side with him now?”
The noble nodded. The others looked curious as well—only a couple had expressions suggesting deeper thought.
Lynch gave a slight chuckle. “When we try to solve a problem, we often treat it as a whole.”
“If the problem isn’t complicated, that’s fine. Like a simple math problem: what’s one plus one?”
“But if the problem is extrely complex, treating it as a whole may cause us to make mistakes when we act.”
“We need to break it down.”
“For example, take shorting the financial index as a standalone matter. That’s a very straightforward operation. We short it, the Pri Minister drives the index down, and we don’t consider any other factor beyond that.”
“And then, for example…”
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