The cold air in Sub-Vault Zero hummed with low, pulsing frequency. Sapphire light from the floating contract washed over the diamond pillar. It cast long, sharp shadows across the metal floor.
Su Wan glanced at her tablet, her fingers tapping rapidly. “The margin call triggers at midnight sharp. That gives us eleven hours and forty minutes before the foreclosure protocols activate automatically.”
“A midnight deadline,” Lin Mo said, looking at the glowing runes. “Oligarchs love dramatic deadlines. It makes them feel important, like theater actors with spreadsheets.”
“Should we keep decoding the financial logs right now?” Shen Qiaoqiao asked, holding her legal stylus ready. “If we trace the escrow routing, we might find a loophole in the corporate charter.”
“Not yet,” Lin Mo replied, turning away from the pillar. “Before we deal with whatever loan sharks are coming at midnight, we have a promise to keep. Five billion people across these one hundred worlds spent ten thousand years paying blood taxes. I told them Taichu pays refunds.”
Su Wan looked up, her lips curving into a faint smile. “You want to run the sector-wide refund now?”
“Right now,” Lin Mo said. “If someone is coming to harvest our lifespans in eleven hours, I want five billion people with full pockets and warm bellies. A hungry man panics. A man with a full bank account and a new tractor fights back.”
