『MV:INEBCEBTH』Arc-1 Ch-10

"Are you sane!? Young lady!?”

At my declaration that I would acquire Hokkaido Development Bank, Ichijou shouted, and I only shrugged in response. Very casually, at that.

“I might not be all that sane.

Since we’re at it, Ichijou, could you explain—in a way I can understand—why acquiring Hokkaido Development Bank isn’t sane?”

During this exchange, Tachibana said nothing.

Ichijou, having calmed down a little, stared at me and sought confirmation.

“From where?”

“From the beginning. I’m not sure if what I’m thinking is right either. If you explain properly and I’m wrong, I’ll withdraw the idea.”

Ichijou sighed while gazing straight at me.

Then, he pulled a 100-yen coin and a 10,000-yen bill from his wallet, placing them on the table.

“A question for the young lady. You know you can buy things with this money. So—why can you buy things with it?”

“That’s quite a difficult question to start with…

Because the money has value?”

“You’re close. More precisely, it’s the visualization of a shared illusion called value.”

“Visualization of a shared illusion called value…?”

While I repeated the words, Ichijou took out nine more 1,000-yen bills and a handful of coins from his wallet—then glanced toward Tachibana.

It seemed he didn’t have enough.

“Tachibana-san, do you have a 500-yen coin?”

“One, if that’s fine.”

On the table now lay: one 10,000-yen bill, nine 1,000-yen bills, one 500-yen coin, and five 100-yen coins. Lining them up neatly, Ichijou continued his explanation.

“We all understand that this single 10,000-yen bill and these smaller bills and coins add up to the same value. But for example—if an alien who knows nothing about Japan saw this, do you think they could understand that?”

I nodded. “Hmm, hmm.”

Ichijou returned the 500-yen coin to Tachibana and tucked the rest of the money back into his wallet.

“Now that we understand that the essence of money is value, let’s talk about how that value is determined. The first and absolute rule: value cannot exist without a counterpart.”

When I tilted my head, Ichijou fished the same 100-yen coin back out of his wallet and placed it before me again.

“If I were alone, I could insist this 100-yen coin is worth 10,000 yen, right?”

“Ah—”

I clapped my hands in realization. Value exists precisely because there’s someone else to share and acknowledge it.

“Then let’s say you’re here. While I claim this 100-yen coin is 10,000 yen, you say, ‘Isn’t this just a 100-yen coin?’ Now, who’s correct?”

Ichijou smiled slyly, clearly planning something.

I thought for a bit, but since I’d been the one to ask, I decided to play along.

“Me, right? Because it says 100 yen.”

With a “just as planned” grin, Ichijou sprang his trap.

“The correct answer is—neither of us.”

“Eh? A hundred yen isn’t a hundred yen?”

“Young lady, think about it. Is that 100 yen really 100 yen?”

I stared blankly. “???”

With an expression halfway between amusement and mischief, Ichijou produced the 10,000-yen bill once more and placed it beside the 100-yen coin.

“Think carefully. Do you really believe this single piece of paper has the same value as a hundred of those coins?”

“…”

I fell silent. This was the very foundation of modern economics—the principle of credit.

“We converse under the premise that this is 100 yen.”

“Precisely. Because we believe a third party guarantees it’s worth 100 yen. That third party is the Bank of Japan—in other words, the state.

This is the essence of money in modern society: credit currency.”

Ichijou stopped there, averting his gaze slightly. It was clear he was only halfway through his lecture.

“My throat’s a bit dry. Since we’re at it, shall we have a coffee break?”

“I want grape juice!”

“Understood.

I’ll have Tokitou prepare it, so please wait.”

Tachibana left the room.

Somewhere along the line, I realized I was actually enjoying this lesson. If I’d learned this in my previous life, perhaps I wouldn’t have met such a miserable end, I thought—just as Tachibana and Aki-san returned with drinks and sweets, and my stomach betrayed me with a growl. No matter how refined I tried to be, my body still craved snacks like a child’s.

“Here you are, young lady. Your favorite pudding.”

“Yay, pudding~♪”

Ichijou, sipping his coffee, resumed his “class” right then.

“Young lady, that pudding looks delicious.

If it’s all right, could you sell it to me for 100 yen?”

“I won’t sell it for 100 yen!

This pudding has more value!”

Not quite a food grudge, but my rejection was serious. It was maid-made pudding—of course it was expensive! Seeing that, Ichijou smoothly offered the 10,000-yen bill.

“Then, could you sell it to me for this 10,000 yen?”

“…Kuh!”

Even though I was now a refined young lady, my soul from a previous life—the soul of an ordinary person—still twitched at the sight of 10,000 yen. Seeing my reaction, everyone in the room laughed.

“Young lady, thank you for valuing my pudding so highly. Ichijou-sama, please don’t tease her too much.”

At Aki-san’s mild scolding, Ichijou raised both hands in surrender, making me giggle as well.

“I won’t eat it, of course, but could you lend me that pudding for a bit?”

“…No eating, okay.”

Ichijou placed the 10,000-yen bill before me and brought the pudding toward himself. That meant I had just sold the pudding to Ichijou for 10,000 yen.

“Now, I paid 10,000 yen for this pudding, but not to eat it—I bought it to resell for profit. So, Tachibana-san, how about it? Won’t you buy this young lady’s pudding for 20,000 yen?”

Tachibana, sipping her black coffee, glanced briefly at the pudding and said flatly:

“I’m not fond of sweets.”

Like a perfectly timed stage play, Tachibana’s refusal earned a sigh from Ichijou, who looked dramatically troubled. At this point, I’d grasped the pudding’s purpose. Aki-san’s handmade pudding represented land or stocks in the Japanese economy.

“Now I’m in a bind. I don’t particularly want to eat the pudding, and if I leave it, it’ll spoil and become worthless. Then no one will buy it. No choice—young lady, won’t you buy this pudding?”

“If 100 yen’s fine, I’ll buy it back♪”

I took the 100-yen coin left on the table and offered it to Ichijou. He accepted the coin and returned the pudding. Then, with deliberate theatricality, he continued.

“I managed to get rid of the pudding, but now 10,000 yen is gone from my wallet.

If my wife looks inside and asks, ‘What did you spend 10,000 yen on?’—it’ll cause a marital crisis.”

That, apparently, was the essence of non-performing loans. Prices rise when someone wants to buy, and crash when no one does.

The gap between book value and market value—that’s where the danger lies.

“So, I prepared some money from a rather shady source and gave Ichijou 10,000 yen to avert his household crisis.”

“Exactly, young lady. Even a 10,000-yen pudding can threaten a marriage. Now imagine what happens when the pudding is land or stocks—the numbers are on a completely different scale.”

Ichijou's tone turned serious. He had lived through the bubble and its collapse—his words carried weight.

“Even the second-tier regional Far East Bank had 45 billion yen in non-performing loans. At its peak, before asset disposal, that figure was nearly 100 billion. Hokkaido Development Bank is a lower-tier city bank. Without a doubt, its bad loans are an order of magnitude higher.”

Could I prepare trillions in funds?

If I had time, the upcoming IT bubble might make it possible. But Hokkaido Development Bank would collapse by autumn due to market sell-offs. Clearly, time wasn’t on my side.

“Then, there’s only one way.”

With a serious face, pudding spoon in hand, I declared:

“Bank of Japan special financing.

We’ll move the Ministry of Finance and secure emergency credit from the Bank of Japan.”

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Author’s Note

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Alternate title: Professor Ichijou's Economics