Down in Bullion Plaza, a flock of cosmic pigeons fluttered across the marble flagstones, leaving a fresh trail of white droppings.
Former Vice-President Jin Bao sniffled through his bruised nose. He shuffled across the stones, his neon-yellow debtor vest flapping in the evening breeze. Every time his stiff plastic broom scraped the marble, the heavy black letters across his back shimmered in the twilight:
[PERMANENT DEBT SLAVE: 50 TRILLION CRYSTALS OVERDUE.]
“Move it, broom boy!” a junior merchant called out, tossing an empty nut shell onto the ground. “You missed a spot by the fountain!”
Jin Bao ground his teeth until his jaw ached. He bent his back, sweeping the nut shell into his dustpan with trembling, powerless hands. Only twenty-four hours ago, he had been the master of Vault #1. Now, even apprentice tea-peddlers treated him like a doormat.
Near the plaza fountain, Qin Haoran stood with his arms crossed, wearing a bright pink morality coach sash over his silver robes.
“Posture, Jin Bao! Posture!” Qin Haoran barked, tapping the broom handle with a ruler. “Do not slouch like a boiled turnip! Sincere repentance requires an upright spine! When you sweep away a pigeon dropping, you are sweeping away greed from your karmic soul! Smile while you sweep!”
