Season 3 chapter 73
The Turn of the Year
Two months had passed since the civil war ended. The calendar had officially flipped to 1452, but the chaotic, unhinged energy inside the managing director's office of Kavilson Steel remained exactly the same.
The heavy double doors swung open as Malesh walked into the room. He stopped dead in his tracks, his usual deadpan expression instantly twisting into a look of pure, unfiltered horror.
Sitting in the massive executive chair was Kniya, the owner and Managing Director of the company. Kniya was holding his custom-made, solid gold pistol. Deeply engraved into the side of the golden barrel was a very weird, highly literal name: "ANYTHING." But that wasn't what horrified Malesh. Kniya had his tongue completely out of his mouth and was leaning in close to the gun, putting on a highly exaggerated, weird act like he was about to physically lick the golden barrel clean.
Malesh immediately hunched over, grabbing his stomach and violently dry-heaving in the doorway.
"Oh my god... Kniya, what the actual fuck is that?!" Malesh gagged, looking at him with absolute disgust. "What are you trying to do?! Are you cleaning it or what?! That is literally the most disgusting thing I have ever seen!"
Kniya paused his act, pulling the gun away from his face with a highly obnoxious smirk. He didn't look embarrassed at all.
"What are you here for, Malesh?" Kniya asked, casually pointing ANYTHING at the ceiling.
The Free Laborer
Malesh straightened up, aggressively fixing his dragon-themed tie to regain his composure. "I am here for work, obviously. I need to talk to you about something incredibly important."
Kniya raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his leather chair.
"Oh, really?" Kniya mocked. "So what kind of work are you going to do? Tell me, do you do any kind of manual labor for our company now? Because if it is like that, go and fix that shattered window over there."
Kniya looked away, dropping his voice into a low, devious whisper, though he was entirely audible in the quiet room.
"That window was completely broken by me only," Kniya muttered to himself with a wicked grin. "And now this free laborer is going to fix it for me..."
Malesh narrowed his eyes, staring at his best friend.
"I heard that, Kniya," Malesh stated flatly. "What the fuck were you trying to say? Just get the fuck out of this act. I am here to talk about an actual, important thing. Don't talk shit right now."
The Spiked Armory
Kniya chuckled, finally setting the golden pistol down on his desk.
Malesh walked further into the room, finally taking a look at the absolute state of the executive desk. It wasn't just the golden pistol. The entire mahogany table was covered in heavy wooden sticks that had jagged, rusty metal spikes driven through them from all sides. It looked like the armory of a post-apocalyptic street gang.
Malesh crossed his arms, his deadpan face returning.
"By the way, Kniya," Malesh asked, gesturing to the table. "Why exactly were you acting like you were going to clean that gun with your tongue? And why are there so many spiked stick weapons present here? I don't get this thing. Why is your desk like that?"
The Repayment Panic
Kniya casually tossed the silk cleaning cloth onto his desk, leaning back in his executive chair with a massive, arrogant smirk. He gestured broadly to the terrifying collection of spiked wooden bats covering his mahogany table.
"These, Malesh?" Kniya asked smoothly, resting his boots on the desk. "These are for the property division. I am getting fully prepared for the division of property today."
Malesh stood perfectly still, his exhausted, deadpan expression remaining entirely unyielding.
"For whose property division, Kniya?" Malesh asked flatly, absolutely refusing to entertain the madness. "I am entirely unable to understand this. We run a global steel monopoly, not a street-level gang. And more importantly, what about the loan? Why are you not serious about this thing at all?"
Malesh stepped closer to the desk, his voice dropping into a tense, urgent register.
"How are we going to pay that money back to Mantouse?" Malesh demanded. "You are sitting here playing with rusty nails and golden pistols, and we are sixty trillion credits in debt! We need to think about it! We need to accumulate the cash and pay it back as soon as possible so we pay the least amount, and the compounded interest isn't that much!"
The Fine Print
Kniya didn't flinch. Instead, a deeply smug, highly secretive grin spread across his face. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, looking at his best friend like he was an absolute amateur.
"Malesh," Kniya stated seriously, shaking his head with fake pity. "You don't even know the basic thing about this loan. Let me tell you a surprising fact. A really, really surprising fact for you."
Malesh narrowed his eyes. "What fact?"
"There was one highly specific thing mentioned in the fine print of that loan deed," Kniya revealed smoothly, tapping his finger against the desk. "We have to pay exactly 60 trillion credits to Mantouse. It does absolutely not matter if we pay him back after two months, six months, or eleven months. We have to pay the full 60 trillion."
Malesh blinked, his brain completely freezing as the financial logic hit him.
"The interest is entirely locked for the full twelve months," Kniya continued, thoroughly proud of his own explanation. "It doesn't matter if we pay early or late. The final amount remains the exact same."
The Stress-Free Debt
For three solid seconds, the executive suite was deathly quiet.
Then, Malesh completely lost his mind.
"What the fuck, Kniya?!" Malesh roared, his deadpan mask shattering into a million pieces. He aggressively slammed his hands down onto the edge of Kniya's desk, completely ignoring the spiked bats. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me that at the time when we were discussing the contract with Mantouse?! Why didn't you read the fucking paper before you put your ink on it?!"
Kniya threw his hands up in defensive, whiny outrage, completely offended by the yelling.
"It is because of the reason that I only read that condition right now, Malesh!" Kniya shouted back loudly. "I literally just read the fine print a few days back! You were the one rushing us out of the bunker to get back to the hospital!"
"You signed a thirty-trillion-credit loan without reading the default penalties?!" Malesh shrieked, rubbing his face in pure, soul-deep despair.
"Look, we don't have a choice anymore, so stop complaining!" Kniya argued passionately, waving his hands to dismiss the crisis. "It's actually a good thing! We can utilize the full time! There is absolutely no reason for us to panic and pay this loan off early. We are getting a full year of stress-free spending in one way!"
Malesh stared at him, absolutely flabbergasted by the sheer idiocy of the logic. "Stress-free?! Kniya, we owe the shadow syndicate sixty trillion credits!"
"And think about the alternative!" Kniya pressed, grinning like a madman. "If we accumulated the money, say, 30 to 45 trillion, and paid it back in two or three months, we would just be rushing for no reason! It is good and bad in both ways. We have the whole year to fix this. That is the thing you need to understand!"
Malesh slowly closed his eyes, taking a deep, ragged breath. He looked like he wanted to physically jump out of the 85th-floor window.
"Kniya, you are acting like we possess the sixty trillion to fall back on," Malesh whispered, his voice trembling with a suppressed urge to commit corporate homicide. "We are entirely in the negative."
Kniya waved his hand dismissively, his arrogant smirk returning. "Malesh, you are fundamentally misunderstanding the deep psychology of massive debt. Listen to me. If you owe Mantouse a hundred credits, that is your problem. But if you owe Mantouse sixty trillion credits... that is *Mantouse's* problem! He literally cannot afford to assassinate us now, because we are his largest performing financial asset! We are entirely too big to fail!"
Malesh stared at him, completely paralyzed by the sheer audacity of the statement. But before Malesh could scream again, Kniya's unhinged grin suddenly vanished. The chaotic CEO energy completely evaporated, leaving behind a cold, terrifying corporate warlord.
"But jokes aside, Malesh... we are totally fucked," Kniya stated, his voice dropping into a heavy, dead-serious register. "And we have to actually realize this thing. There is absolutely no other option than what we have right now. No one is going to help us. No one is going to care for us. I never expected us to be in this kind of situation. We are completely all alone in this pattern."
Malesh slowly opened his eyes, recognizing the sudden shift in Kniya's tone. The deadpan exhaustion faded into absolute, pragmatic focus. "So what is the actual strategic path?"
Kniya leaned forward, resting his hands on the mahogany desk next to the spiked bats. "I am secretly preparing for a solution. And it is going to be our absolute, only last option."
Malesh narrowed his dark eyes. "What is that?"
"Well, it is not a kind of plan that I can explain to you for now," Kniya replied coldly, shaking his head. "It is a later on thing. But just understand that we are going to pay a lot if we are going to use that thing. It won't be good for anyone."
Malesh stared at his best friend, the silence in the room growing heavier. "Kniya, if it is going to cost us that heavily, why are you preparing it?"
"Because it is incredibly dangerous, and I am not going to tell you this or any more details about it until the time comes," Kniya muttered, his eyes entirely devoid of emotion. "So, for now, if we find a way to pay our loan before that deadline hits, we do it. If we don't... it is our only final option, and it is going to cost us a lot. Now, stop stressing about the money, pick up a spiked bat, and let's go handle this property division."