A careful hunter never approaches his prey recklessly.
Before entering the hunting grounds, one must first understand the prey's habits and behavior in precise detail.
The hunt begins only after success has already been decided.
Never the other way around.
And in that sense, what I was doing now was no different.
The only difference was that my prey happened to be human garbage.
In fact, the preparation stage required even greater care.
One had to move quietly, gather information, and identify useful leverage beforehand.
And unfortunately, that process was far more troublesome than I had expected.
The entire system of society in this era functioned in such an improvised and primitive manner that applying my usual methods could easily backfire.
Another concern was my limited understanding of contemporary finance and securities.
I had studied the subject whenever I could, but my perspective was still heavily influenced by modern knowledge.
Take the banking system, for example.
Banks in this era rarely shared more than a handful of branches within a region. Even withdrawing money from one's own account was not always possible at another branch.
In fact, a bank that shared even a few branches was considered remarkably advanced.
Customer verification was equally unreliable.
Often it relied on nothing more than signatures or letters of introduction.
Naturally, occasional disasters occurred.
At first, I could hardly believe it.
Surely banks did not manage customer information so carelessly.
Surely no one would entrust their money to such a system.
And yet—
that was precisely how things worked.
Of course, my disbelief came from viewing the world through modern expectations.
People of this era likely saw nothing unusual about such arrangements.
Otherwise, most banks would already have collapsed long ago.
Still…
The moment I realized this, I also understood something else.
Handled correctly, these weaknesses might become very useful tools in the future.
The banking system was not the only difference.
The stock market of this era was also worlds apart from the modern one.
Fortunately, I had begun studying it before entering Eton, so I had some familiarity with the structure.
The British securities market of the 1830s consisted primarily of shares in large enterprises—banks, railway companies, and insurance firms.
Corporate bonds were rare.
Access for the general public was limited, meaning the proportion of small retail investors was far lower than in the modern world.
Trading itself was conducted entirely face-to-face.
The London Stock Exchange and various coffeehouses served as the main marketplaces.
But all of that was secondary.
The most important fact was this:
Regulation barely existed.
Some laws existed, of course.
But they were easy to circumvent.
Insider trading and market manipulation were almost impossible to detect.
Disclosure requirements were minimal.
If one truly wished to exploit the system, the opportunities were endless.
The British financial market of the 1830s…
Could a system like this really function?
Looking at it objectively, I felt a strange admiration for how far financial systems would eventually evolve.
In fact—
If I were truly malicious, I might even be able to destabilize the British economy itself.
This wasn't exaggeration.
The more I thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.
If someone orchestrated coordinated fraud across dozens of companies and triggered a chain of bankruptcies, Britain's poorly protected financial system could collapse entirely.
Of course, I had no intention of doing such a thing.
The thought remained nothing more than idle speculation.
"Still," I said casually, glancing up from the documents, "you've gathered quite a lot of information for only one week's work."
"That's thanks to your clear division of roles, sir," James replied. "And the investigators are experienced professionals. Once they had a target, the work progressed quickly."
While I had been studying Britain's financial systems in depth, James had completed the assignment I gave him in just one week.
To be honest, I was relieved.
Partly because it confirmed the competence of the organization I had recently built.
But mostly because—
Eton's classes were painfully boring.
Perhaps that was why students threw themselves so enthusiastically into clubs and social gatherings.
The lessons themselves were simply unbearable.
Cricket, after all, must have become so popular among the British elite because it offered relief from academic torture.
Had I just uncovered the true secret behind cricket's cultural dominance?
…Hardly.
Why was I wasting time thinking about such nonsense?
"Well," I said, clapping my hands lightly, "I was starting to grow restless anyway. Perfect timing. I'll review everything tonight and draft the scenario. Come back tomorrow to collect it."
"In just one day?"
"The preparations will take time, so we should start immediately. If the intelligence is solid, one day is more than enough to design the plan."
Of course, preparing the groundwork would be another matter entirely.
But considering James's competence, that would likely take no more than a week.
"Now then," I said, leaning back in my chair, "tell me about the garbage we're about to dispose of."
"Yes, sir."
James opened his notebook.
"The man currently calls himself Mark Turner. He recently established a company called Turner Building Supplies. Previously he operated in northwest London, but this time he moved to the southeast. The company claims to supply materials for railway construction."
"A building supplier, then. What's the exact scheme?"
"He persuades investors that funding his business will allow him to expand his supply capacity, which in turn will generate enormous profits."
James shrugged.
"The documentation is quite elaborate. Anyone examining the papers alone could easily be fooled."
Given the widespread expectation that the railway bill would pass next year, public interest in railway ventures was at its peak.
Which meant that swindlers like Turner were likely planning one final large operation before disappearing.
Ironically, that made counter-manipulation easier.
Once the construction began, repeating the same scheme would become much harder.
"I see," I said thoughtfully. "If he's posing as a materials supplier, I already know how we should approach him."
I glanced at James.
"How much money are we currently holding?"
"You instructed us to halt new investments and keep everything in cash. Including the casino profits and previous investments…"
He paused.
"About £150,000."
I let out a low whistle.
"That's quite a fortune."
The capital we had extracted from Jack two years earlier had grown considerably.
Perhaps I should send him a generous prison meal someday.
"Good," I said. "Then go to the bank and open a new account under the name I'll give you. After that, establish a convincing company identity and prepare a set of falsified ledgers."
James blinked.
"Sir… you can produce accounting ledgers yourself?"
"Of course not."
"You've shown so many extraordinary abilities that I wondered if that might be another."
In truth, I probably could produce them.
But the accounting standards of this era differed significantly from modern ones. My incomplete knowledge might raise unnecessary suspicions.
Still, designing the structure was easy enough.
"I've been thinking," I said. "Here's how we'll fabricate the books. Bribe a bank clerk to obtain a large number of blank promissory notes. Use them to create layered collateral agreements."
I tapped the desk lightly.
"That will allow us to inflate the company's assets several times over. And we can fabricate revenue records using fictitious transactions."
James stared at me in astonishment.
"Sir… how do you even think of such things? Your mind works with such… remarkable cunning."
Too late to take the words back now.
Besides, it wasn't fair.
I was deliberately choosing a milder approach.
If anything, the real problem was how vulnerable this era's financial systems were to techniques that modern accountants already understood.
"But remember," I said calmly, "the key to this plan is your performance."
James straightened.
"Next week, once everything is ready, we'll rehearse. If you reveal even the slightest inconsistency, every pound we've invested will vanish."
"Understood. I've already begun practicing."
Even if he made minor mistakes, I doubted these swindlers would detect them.
After all, even Charles Wellesley had once been trained to deceive professional gamblers successfully.
Compared to that, this task was trivial.
I reviewed the information James had gathered and began refining the plan.
Like a chef adjusting the temperature of a grill before placing meat upon it—
I searched for the perfect heat at which to cook our prey.
* * *
Ten days later.
James stepped down from the carriage and exhaled softly.
This was his first operation acting as Killian's proxy, so some tension was natural.
But it was merely a light tremor.
Not fear of failure.
Preparing for this operation had convinced him of something.
Killian Gore was not merely talented.
His way of thinking itself was different.
The traps and deceptions he designed were astonishing—especially considering they came from a boy barely twelve years old.
Then again, that was precisely why men like James—and even Major Charles Wellesley—had chosen to follow him.
And today's operation would prove the truth.
Was Killian truly the genius Wellesley believed him to be?
Or merely a dreamer with clever theories?
"There anyone here?" James called loudly as he pushed open the office door.
A well-dressed young clerk approached.
"How may I assist you?"
According to their investigation, the company employed only four real workers.
Though on paper, the firm claimed dozens.
James casually removed his coat and hat, handing them to the clerk without ceremony before seating himself arrogantly.
"I heard this place supplies materials for the London–Birmingham Railway project. That's correct, isn't it?"
He glanced around the modest office.
"Though I must say, the premises look rather unimpressive."
Every item he wore—from the coat to the monocle—was of the finest quality.
The scent of money was unmistakable.
The clerk immediately smiled obsequiously.
A middle-aged man hurried from the inner office and sat across from James.
"You've come to the right place," he said eagerly. "I am Mark Turner, proprietor of Turner Building Supplies."
"Richard Twain," James replied casually.
He leaned back in his chair.
"But judging by the size of this office… I can't help wondering whether I've come to the correct place."
"Ah, this is merely a temporary office," Turner explained quickly. "Our main operations are based in Liverpool. This location simply allows us to meet investors in London."
He leaned forward slightly.
"May I ask what brings you here?"
James smiled faintly.
"My firm specializes in railway and real estate investments. We occasionally partner with construction firms to secure contracts."
He paused.
"If your company truly participates in the London–Birmingham project, you must be aware of the additional proposal."
Turner blinked.
"…What proposal?"
James frowned as if surprised.
"What? The branch line from Birmingham toward Liverpool, of course. Surely any contractor involved in the railway knows about it."
In truth—
no such proposal existed.
But greed had already swallowed Turner whole.
"A-Ah! Yes, of course," Turner said hastily. "The Liverpool branch. Naturally. It's a confidential matter, so I was simply surprised to hear it mentioned so suddenly."
James nearly laughed aloud.
Incredible.
Killian had predicted this perfectly.
My lord…
It actually works.