The stock market board now shows a cascade of red, like a blade falling through the heart of the economy. The council members watch in silence, their hands moving over a map spread across the table. The collapse has been engineered, and their rewards are just beginning.

In a darkened room, the first red numbers begin to appear on the stock market board. A figure in a robe leans forward, their hands clasped in anticipation. The light from the board reflects off the gold coins scattered on the table, hinting at the wealth soon to be multiplied.

Crystal glasses filled with the finest wine are raised in a toast. The council’s faces are still hidden, but their smiles are unmistakable. The wine reflects the deep red of the falling numbers, a symbolic drink to the ruin of others and the prosperity of the few.