The Fire Daimyō hesitated.
Seated in silence, he wavered, unable to make an immediate decision.
Should he involve himself in this business… or not?
From long familiarity, he knew those "insects" all too well.
When profit was involved, they would turn into demons—greedy beyond reason, completely unhinged.
As a ruler, the Daimyō despised anything that slipped beyond his control.
And this so-called Tulip Bubble—
Once it began, it would inevitably spiral out of control, expanding far beyond his ability to rein it in, and finally collapse into chaos.
That much was certain.
But there was no denying this either—
As the initiator and one of the manipulators of the game, he would reap staggering rewards. He would earn until his coffers overflowed, until wealth spilled from his hands.
Faced with such enormous profit, even the Daimyō could not help but feel tempted.
Kazuma sat quietly on the sofa, saying nothing, carefully observing every change in the Daimyō's expression.
He knew—
This was the moment.
He needed to push.
When it came to making vast sums of money, hesitation was unforgivable.
"Your Highness, please allow me to say a word."
"The tulip game is entirely voluntary. No one is being forced to participate."
"And anyone qualified to enter this game already possesses immense wealth. Yet they are still so greedy."
"Even if they end up losing everything, it would be well deserved."
"Lord Makoto once said—when a person's wisdom does not match their wealth, that money will eventually return to the world in one way or another."
"Your Highness, surely you don't wish for foolish, greedy people to continue enjoying wealth they don't deserve?"
Kazuma's voice carried a subtle, dangerous persuasion.
In the shinobi world, those who truly held vast wealth were not ninja—but nobles and merchants.
And more often than not, their riches had little to do with personal talent.
In this world—
Birth itself was a skill.
Listening to Kazuma's words, unpleasant memories surfaced in the Daimyō's mind.
They struck a nerve.
The people beneath him had grown increasingly restless over the years.
When he was young, the Daimyō had been full of ambition. He had wanted to reform governance, clean up corruption, and regulate taxation.
But over a thousand years, the aristocracy had entrenched itself into a vast bureaucratic system—one that could not be shaken by the Daimyō alone.
Unless he was willing to invite wolves into the house and let ninja interfere in the country's internal governance—
Which was absolutely impossible.
He needed to guard against the nobles, yes—but even more so against the ninja. Nobles were greedy for money and power, but ninja?
Ninja could take lives.
Such a reversal of priorities was something he would never allow.
Even if he tried, the nobles would immediately stop him using every method imaginable.
You're not very good at swimming, are you?
Still—
When he was younger, he had managed to force the nobles to restrain themselves.
But now he was old.
His energy had waned.
One by one, they banded together—refusing to pay taxes, falsifying accounts so sloppily that the lies piled into nonsense.
They didn't just deceive subordinates.
They dared deceive him.
"Bastards…"
"All of them are thieves!"
"The taxes collected in the Fire Country—three hundred billion ryō—and you take two hundred billion, leave me one hundred billion, and expect me to pretend I don't see it and thank you?"
"Do you really think that just because you're nobles—hereditary retainers—I can't touch you?"
"The money you stole—"
"That is my money!"
"Mine! MY MONEY!"
The Daimyō roared inwardly. His expression darkened rapidly.
Meanwhile, Kazuma continued relentlessly at his side, poisoning the well against those "insects."
"Your Highness, this opportunity comes once in a lifetime."
"This wealth is not something they are capable of holding."
"We are merely acting in accordance with fate."
At the thought of such immense riches, the Daimyō's heart burned again.
This was not a matter of tens of billions of ryō—
It was hundreds of billions.
Perhaps even a trillion.
"…Very well."
"I've decided."
Already harboring deep resentment toward the nobles, and now tempted by unimaginable wealth, the Daimyō finally made his choice.
He would do it.
Strike while the iron was hot.
These funds—
They had always belonged to him in the first place.
"Your Highness, this is an exceptionally wise decision," Kazuma praised.
Internally, he let out a long breath of relief.
Soon after, with the Daimyō's approval secured, the two began discussing the concrete details of the plan.
The Tulip Bubble required only the Daimyō's cooperation from the sidelines. Once that was in place, the remaining difficulties were trivial.
According to Uchiha Makoto's design, the first step was simple—
The Daimyō would personally purchase tulips at exorbitant prices, rapidly spreading their fame throughout aristocratic circles.
After that—
They would manipulate prices.
They would arrange long queues of hired actors at tulip vendors, creating the illusion of overwhelming demand.
Prices would be pushed up.
Goods would be sold.
Prices would rise again.
Then sold again.
Repeated cycles of arbitrage.
Naturally, this required a considerable amount of capital to sustain price inflation—something Akatsuki Village alone could not shoulder.
But with the Daimyō backing them, there was no real risk.
At worst—
The gentry's money would be returned in full.
The crucial contract trading phase followed naturally, flowing with the momentum.
As for the rest?
Human greed would resolve all remaining obstacles on their behalf.
"Good. Good. Very good."
The Daimyō praised the plan three times in a row.
Makoto's scheme was airtight—layer upon layer, exploiting the darkest corners of human nature.
Even he himself admitted that, were he driven by greed, he would be unable to resist joining such a game—and would likely suffer catastrophic losses in the end.
"As long as Your Highness is satisfied."
With the plan finalized, only one matter remained.
Profit distribution.
This had to be decided in advance.
Even brothers settled accounts clearly—let alone cooperating with a Daimyō, one of the very "insects" they intended to exploit.
Makoto's ideal arrangement was thirty–seventy.
Yes—
Akatsuki Village would take seventy percent.
The Daimyō would take thirty.
Even ten percent would already be an astronomical sum.
But that was unrealistic.
Reality was unforgiving.
Akatsuki Village was still weak. It needed the Daimyō's cooperation, his funds, and future collaboration.
Offering him only thirty percent?
That was nothing but a dream.
Naturally, the Daimyō would never agree to fund the operation, lend his authority for promotion, and only receive thirty percent.
Who do you take me for?
If anything—
Seventy percent for me.
But Makoto had his bottom line.
The tulip plan was his design from start to finish. He bore the mental burden of every move.
The Daimyō merely sat back and collected profits.
Taking only thirty percent?
Impossible.
At minimum—fifty-fifty.
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