The Price of Greed
Kyoto, Japan ti News channel.
As one of the most aggressive and forward-looking dia platforms in Kyoto, Japan ti News channel had already dominated the digital battlefield. More than twenty million followers tracked their every post across Snapora, Hello sanger public feeds, and a web of independent news platforms. When they moved, the city felt it.
This morning, they dropped a bomb.
The newsroom had been tense before sunrise. Screens glowed in the half-dark. Coffee cups sat untouched.
"Are we sure?" a junior editor asked, fingers hovering over the keyboard.
The chief editor didn’t look up from the docunts spread across his desk. "We don’t publish unless we’re sure."
"What about legal?"
"Already cleared. Every chart. Every testimony. Every transfer record." He finally lifted his eyes. Calm. Steady. "If they co after us, they’ll co empty-handed."
A beat of silence.
"Publish it."
Within a single hour, the article surged past millions of clicks.
The headline was sharp as a blade:
Shin cooperation Exposed for Seven Years of Systematic Tax Evasion
It sliced through tilines and group chats, through office cubicles and commuter trains. People stopped mid-scroll. Screenshots spread faster than context.
The report didn’t hold back. It detailed, with ticulous evidence, how Shin cooperation had falsified accounts, manipulated offshore shells, and dodged astronomical taxes over the past seven years. Transaction charts lined up like soldiers. Insider testimonies were quoted word for word. Governnt discrepancies were highlighted in red. It wasn’t speculation. It was dissection.
It was a surgical execution.
Kyoto’s netizens exploded.
"Is the governnt blind? How could they miss this?"
"Blind?" soone shot back instantly. "They were probably eating from the sa table."
"Seven years? Seven?"
"Fine them into the ground! Make them bleed!"
The comnt sections roared. Live streams lit up. Influencers who had once praised Shin cooperation’s innovation now scrambled to delete old posts.
At a small ran shop near Karasuma Street, the television above the counter replayed the headline on a loop.
The owner shook his head. "I invested in them last year."
A custor glanced up from his phone. "Sell. If you can."
Public outrage burned like wildfire.
By afternoon, regulatory authorities had already dispatched investigative teams to Shin cooperation’s headquarters. Black sedans lined the curb. Uniford officials stepped out with folders in hand and expressions carved from stone.
Inside the glass tower, panic cracked through polished hallways.
"Who leaked it?" a senior manager hissed, his tie loosened, sweat gathering at his temples.
"This can’t be real," another executive muttered. "We covered every trail."
"You thought we did," ca the reply, sharp and low.
Elevators were locked down. Offices were sealed. Senior executives were detained on-site. Bank accounts were frozen before anyone could attempt damage control. Assets were sealed under court authorization.
Employees stood clustered near the lobby, whispering.
"What’s going on?"
"Tax investigation."
"No... no, that’s impossible."
But the red tape stretched across the entrance said otherwise.
The building that once symbolized innovation and wealth now stood silent under official tape and flashing lights.
By the next day, the investigation results were formally released.
The press conference was short. No theatrics. No softening of words.
Shin cooperation was guilty of severe tax evasion.
Caras flashed as the statent was read. Reporters shouted questions that went unanswered.
The fine? Astronomical.
The three hundred billion that Blackwing Investnt had just transferred over—money ant to fuel expansion—was swallowed whole by penalties. It wasn’t even close to enough to fill the financial crater.
In a quiet boardroom across the city, the mood was suffocating.
A Blackwing executive stared at the numbers projected on the screen. "Tell this is recoverable."
The finance director didn’t sugarcoat it. "Not without bleeding."
"Who approved the transfer?" soone demanded.
No one answered imdiately.
Outside that room, analysts were already whispering.
When Shin cooperation collapsed, the impact rippled outward.
Blackwing Investnt Company—the largest shareholder—took a brutal hit.
Authorities exposed suspicious cross-border fund transfers. Investigations were launched imdiately.
Phones rang nonstop in trading floors.
"Dump it."
"It’s falling too fast."
"Get out while you can."
The market reacted without rcy.
Blackwing’s stock price plumted like a falling blade.
--------
Evan received the news while squatting in a restroom stall.
He had a habit of lingering there—two to three hours daily, scrolling through financial data and organization reports. Getting paid to take a dump, as he liked to joke.
But today, there was no humor.
"How did they find out? Who leaked the information?"
His voice echoed sharply against the tiled walls as he roared into his phone.
The collapse of Shin cooperation shattered his strategy completely.
The three hundred billion hadn’t even touched the intended thermal power project. It had gone straight into Kyoto’s treasury.
Three hundred billion.
For Evan, not picking up money on the street felt like a loss. He slept better knowing he had extracted profit from every opportunity.
Now?
He had just watched a mountain of wealth evaporate.
His fingers dug into his thigh.
What hurt more was Blackwing’s stock.
Blackwing Investnt was one of the core pillars under the Obsidian Wing organization—assets nearing five trillion. With the market crash triggered by scandal and investigation, losses were spiraling toward a trillion.
A trillion.
Even he felt his pulse spike.
On the other end of the line, a subordinate from Obsidian Wing spoke carefully.
"Obsidian King... there’s another developnt."
Evan’s jaw tightened. "Speak."
"The main reason for the magnitude of this loss is that soone seized the opportunity to short our stock aggressively."
There was a brief pause.
"The opposing party invested eight hundred billion. Our investigation traced the capital flow... The funds originated from De Dominicis Group and D’Aurelius Group."
The air inside the stall seed to freeze.
De Dominicis Group.
D’Aurelius Group.
Evan’s face drained of color before flushing dark green with rage.
How could those two households coordinate sothing like this?
Where had the flaw been?
His plan had been flawless.
Ryan De Dominicis would never dare betray him.
Bianca De Dominicis should have remained ignorant.
Unless—
His eyes narrowed slowly.
Could it be Julian D’Aurelius?
That so-called useless heir?
Him?
The thought twisted inside his mind like a thorn.
He replayed everything—every conversation, every move, every transfer. No obvious exposure. No misstep.
Unless... soone had been listening.
"My identity hasn’t been exposed, right?"
Evan’s voice dropped to an icy whisper.
Cold. Controlled.
But beneath that calm surface, fury churned like a storm ready to break.
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