Chapter 293: Pleasure Doing Business
"So, what you're saying is… if I throw down enough money, buying out the K.G.C.C is totally possible, right?"
Steven snapped his fingers casually, hitting the core of the matter.
Duck Lord adjusted his sunglasses and shook his head slightly.
"Not just money," he said. "Like I told you—some parts of the K.G.C.C can't be bought with cash alone. You'll need to… weaken their unity first. Break their alliance. Only then will I have the opportunity to start acquiring their shares with capital."
"In short," he added, "that part's on you."
Right now, the K.G.C.C was still in its golden age—wealthy, influential, and tightly knit.
For an outsider to muscle in and scoop up shares? Nearly impossible. Let alone trying to become the majority shareholder. That wasn't just about money—it was a matter of power and leverage.
"So basically, I've gotta stir the pot. Get them fighting among themselves. Best case, they're all scrambling to cash out and run. In more market-friendly terms… tank their public image, plummet their share prices, and make them desperate sellers?"
Steven chuckled.
Honestly, he was already doing half of that anyway.
"Exactly," Duck Lord replied with a simple nod.
He didn't care whether Steven could pull it off. That was none of his concern.
He was just the broker, the transaction gatekeeper.
"Alright then," Steven said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Assuming I do create the perfect buying window… how much would it cost to acquire controlling interest?"
For anyone else, a move like this would be beyond reach. But for him? It was almost too easy. He already had the perfect excuse—and the perfect pressure point. All he had to do was expose the Area 0 scandal to the Adeptus Sprawiedliwi.
Once the K.G.C.C was under investigation, public trust would shatter. Stocks would drop. Ducks would circle. And Duck Lord would get his opening.
That was the easy part.
Now he just wanted to know: how much would the full buyout cost?
Duck Lord paused for a moment. Then, with a flutter of feathers, he reached into his briefcase, pulled out a notepad and pen, and did a quick back-of-the-envelope calculation.
"To acquire over 51% of the K.G.C.C's shares would require a… staggering amount," he said seriously. "We're talking about an entity that controls nearly the entire national economy of Kazimierz. The value is almost beyond conventional currency."
He looked up, his eyes sharp behind those glasses.
"But you," he said slowly, "you might actually be able to afford it."
Steven raised a brow, intrigued.
"If you can offer roughly 30% of Iberia's annual grain export profit projections, that should suffice."
There it was, the price tag.
Not measured in coins or bills, but in national-scale economic assets.
The K.G.C.C was no small-time company. It was an economic empire, practically a state-owned monopoly in everything but name. What Steven was attempting wasn't just a hostile takeover.
It was a financial siege.
"Of course," Duck Lord said with a calm nod. "That price covers only the transaction itself. If I'm the one handling it, I'll also be collecting a five percent fee—for personal brokerage."
He adjusted his sunglasses slightly, not bothering to show Steven his calculations. Not that it would've helped—Steven probably wouldn't understand them anyway. And whether he believed them? That was Steven's problem, not his.
"…Wait, you're telling me the payment has to be something like this? Can't we just use actual, solid gold or something?"
Steven looked genuinely troubled.
He'd assumed he could settle this whole thing with some spare gold bars lying around like pocket change.
But instead, Duck Lord was asking for a cut of his Iberian potato investment profits?
Ridiculous.
Then again, it made a certain twisted kind of sense.
Gold, when you boiled it down, was just a fancy metal.
A medium of exchange.
But shares in the K.G.C.C? That was real capital. Real power.
"I can smell the scent of money on you," Duck Lord said dryly, "but unfortunately, the answer is no."
He was just a broker, after all. He set the price. Whether Steven was willing to pay it? Not his business.
Steven tapped his chin, thinking it over.
But really, it wasn't much of a dilemma.
Why not trade it?
It's not like he lacked assets. That's what money was for—to spend. Sure, the Iberian potato business was bound to be a huge success, but it wasn't like that was his only gig. He could always start something new.
Like, say, convincing Ursus refugees to start raising chickens. Eggs, meat, dairy, it's way more profitable than potatoes.
For a Minecrafter like him, who could practically print wealth if he wanted, this wasn't even a real loss.
"Alright then," he said. "Let's say I am willing to offer that. How long will it take to get the whole buyout done? I'm not exactly the patient type."
What worried him wasn't the price, it was the timeline.
The Kazimierz Major was almost over. Once he'd wrapped things up, he'd be skipping town. If the K.G.C.C's acquisition dragged out for months, he wouldn't even be around to care.
Ideally, he'd toss the money over now and slap the current K.G.C.C chairman in the face before lunch.
"If you successfully destabilize the K.G.C.C's unity," Duck Lord replied smoothly, "then half a day will be plenty."
That was good enough for him. He could wait half a day.
Besides, the one in front of him was a Beast Lord. Even in business, Duck Lord wasn't the type to play dirty. At least not without cause.
That much, he could trust.
"Well then," Steven grinned, reaching out a hand. "Deal. Need me to sign anything?"
Honestly, this whole thing had gone down way smoother than he'd expected.
No under-the-table tricks. No boardroom traps. Just two people talking business—and one of them was a duck.
"No paperwork needed," Duck Lord replied. "In terms of trade, I'm far more experienced than you, Mister Steve. And as for trust… I'm willing to believe you're not the kind of man who breaks his word."
He extended a wing and tapped Steven's hand lightly.
No contracts. No forms. Just a handshake between man and duck.
"Pleasure doing business."
With a polite nod, Duck Lord removed his hat, turned around, and strutted toward the café's exit.
And the moment he crossed the threshold, he vanished.
Like he'd never been there at all.
The contract was sealed. All that remained now was for Steven to break the balance within the K.G.C.C himself.
With a relaxed smile, Steven leisurely finished the complimentary lemonade sitting in front of him.
Now that this side of the plan was settled, what came next would be far simpler.
He just hoped the K.G.C.C would be ready for the "gift" he was about to drop in their laps.
It'd be more fun that way, anyway.
Still, once he did take over the K.G.C.C, the Major would probably be dead in the water. That meant he'd need a new profit engine. But what?
No way was he going to start something like that "Uma Musume Pretty Derby" mess.
Sure, it was full of competition, but if things went sideways, it could end up even darker than the tournaments he was about to kill.
As Steven was mulling over what kind of profitable enterprise he should start next, he stood to settle his bill—only to see the café owner approaching with an awkward, embarrassed look on his face.
"I'm so sorry, sir, but we can't—"
"It's alright. I get it. No need to explain. Times are hard—I understand."
Steven waved him off with a smile before the man could finish his sentence. He already knew what was coming just from the look on the guy's face.
He casually placed the payment for Duck Lord's coffee on the table, stood, and walked out into the street.
Of course he understood. And of course he wouldn't take it out on the café workers—they were just doing their jobs. But that didn't mean he wasn't pissed off.
No, all that anger, that simmering contempt—he'd just bottle it up for now.
When the time came, he'd make sure every last person who tried to mess with him would pay. In full.
"…The streetlights in this city really aren't tall enough. Probably couldn't even fit all the idiots I'd want to hang. Maybe I should start a business selling streetlights instead. Two hundred meters tall, big enough to leave them dangling up there for forty-nine days straight."
He muttered the horrifying idea under his breath, casting a glance at the old, worn-out streetlight next to him.
Was he joking?
…Even Steven didn't know the answer to that.
It wasn't impossible. He was just the type to do something on a whim if the mood struck.
"Anyway, the next step is getting my hands on that document. Can't topple the K.G.C.C without airing out their dirty laundry."
His eyes drifted from the streetlight to the sky-piercing tower in the distance—the headquarters of the K.G.C.C, visible from nearly anywhere in the Knightdom.
He squinted, voice low and cold.
To be honest, he was disappointed in this city.
It was supposed to be a place of progress, of civilization. High-tech, clean-cut, orderly.
But somehow, it all felt worse than a beat-up village in the frozen wastelands of Ursus.
At least out there, people still knew what human connection meant.
Here?
All he could smell was the reek of money.
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