By early the next morning, the harbor district of Bernier City was already bustling. A line three people wide stretched outside the Mistsea Trading Company's imposing four-story office building, growing to an almost unbelievable length.
The locally hired guards stared in shock. They had seen with their own eyes how people had started arriving with bedding to save their places as soon as night fell. By dawn, the line had clogged the streets throughout the harbor district, even circling the entire block where the company stood.
Even more astonishingly, despite the enormous crowd, more people kept joining the line. By now, some enterprising souls in the crowd had become "scalpers" without anyone teaching them, asking those behind them whether they wanted to "buy a spot."
Of course, this service didn't come free. Even so, plenty of small merchants with bloodshot eyes paid a steep price to buy places from the scalpers. Clutching everything they owned, they gazed eagerly at the office doors, which would open promptly at eight.
It was as if those doors led straight to a kingdom of wealth.
Not everyone waiting in line was a small merchant dreaming of striking it rich. Many were dressed as servants.
They looked even more feverish than the small merchants who had spent the past few months listening to the Mistsea Trading Company's tales of sudden riches. They might not know how to do business, or even how to count money, but that didn't stop the servants who waited on their masters in estates and mansions from taking inspiration—or instructions—from their masters' recent windfalls.
The news that the Mistsea Trading Company was about to open up investment in Class A goods to more people was no secret among its official shareholders. Word of mouth had spread it, and naturally, those around