All eyes were drawn to it. They stared at the cart, at the pile of gold that nearly blinded them, and at the man pushing it, Jacob, until they forgot how to breathe.
Who was Jacob?
He was the village butcher.
Where did he live?
In that shop that reeked all year of blood and the stench of entrails.
What did he wear?
Always that greasy leather apron, stained with who knew whether pig blood or sheep blood.
Yet now this man, who in everyone's mind owned nothing but brute strength and a slaughter knife, was pushing a cart full of gold.
Jacob pushed the cart forward with a blank expression. The crowd parted for him without thinking, and he went straight to the steps of the monastery.
Then he stopped.
Because of the sudden halt, several gold coins rolled off the pile with a clatter and fell onto the ground. He did not bother to pick them up. Instead, he knelt before Giovanni on the steps.
This man, built like a bear, was now as humble as a lamb.
"Abbot, this is everything I own. There are one hundred Florin gold coins here."
One hundred.
Not even counting the gold objects.
A sharp gasp rippled through the crowd. One hundred gold coins meant a fine house in Florence.
"I heard your teaching." Jacob lifted his head. In those eyes that usually showed no feeling toward life or death, a burning devotion now blazed. "Part of this gold came from that night. The rest, I earned blade by blade."
Of course, what he did not say was that most of it had been paid to him by Giovanni.
"I feel that it is soaked in blood and screams. It is unclean. It is a shackle locking my soul. I am willing to use all of this tainted wealth to purchase the St. Lucia Grace Gold Certificate. I beg you, use the Lord's mercy to cleanse my filthy soul!"
After speaking, he slammed his head hard against the cold stone floor.
The shock this scene brought was beyond words.
They were still hesitating over the three-year term, still uneasy about trading solid gold for a piece of paper. Yet Jacob, the butcher they all usually looked down on, not only handed over cursed gold but also his own savings, just to get the certificates.
What did that mean?
It meant his faith was stronger than theirs. It meant he was smarter than all of them. He had seen the sacred value behind the gold certificates, something ordinary people could not grasp.
Giovanni looked at Jacob kneeling before him, then at the cart of gold, and smiled in satisfaction. He knew the planted actor had done his job.
He stepped down personally and helped Jacob up. "My brother, the Lord has seen your devotion."
Then he turned and took the very first gold-edged St. Lucia Grace Gold Certificate from the tray Luca was holding, placing it solemnly into Jacob's hands.
"Take it. This is what you deserve. Your name will be written on the first line of the Book of Blessings."
Then Giovanni did something that made everyone's eyes almost fall out.
He bent down, counted out fifteen gold coins from Jacob's pile, and put them into a cloth pouch before handing it back.
"What is this?" Jacob froze.
"This is your Grace Return for this year. I said it before, fifteen percent per year. Your principal is one hundred gold coins and gold items. This is your first year's return. As for the gold objects, once we finish valuing them, we will calculate those as well."
"The Lord never owes His believers. Today you plant the seed of faith. Today, you reap your first fruit."
"Now? You give it now?"
"Now."
Jacob took the heavy pouch. His hands were shaking.
He opened it, and the golden glow stabbed his eyes. He poured the coins into his palm, then back into the pouch. The clinking sound was the most beautiful music in the world.
He raised the pouch high, his face flushed with excitement. "Praise the Lord! Praise the great Abbot Giovanni!"
The impact of this scene was devastating. It shattered the last line of defense in everyone's heart.
Curses. Evil spirits. None of that mattered anymore.
Three years. Risk. All of it was thrown far away.
What did they see?
They saw that once you handed over your money, you immediately got real money back. Nothing was more convincing than that.
Marco reacted first.
His regret twisted his guts. If he had rushed forward first, he would have been the first to receive a return.
"I'll exchange! I'll exchange!" He rushed to the steps, afraid the fifty slots would be gone.
"Me too! I have thirty gold coins!"
"I have a silver cup and two gold chains! Take them!"
The scene spiraled out of control.
People went mad. They pushed forward, ripping open pockets, belts, and hiding places, pulling out every valuable thing they had and holding it high, terrified the abbot might miss them.
"Line up! Line up!" Luca shouted himself hoarse, but his voice was swallowed by the frenzy.
Philip sat behind a temporary table. His quill never stopped. He wrote furiously, recording names and the property handed in: registering, valuing, converting to gold amounts, issuing certificates.
His wrist ached. Sweat covered his forehead. Yet his face showed a level of excitement he had never felt before.
Luca's job was to collect the money. Several large wooden chests sat before him as villagers tossed gold coins, silver coins, and jewelry inside like potatoes.
He kept bending down, stuffing the overflowing treasure back in, drenched in sweat, his back nearly unable to straighten.
This was not selling an investment product.
This was robbery.
No. Worse.
This was people crying and begging for someone to take their money.
* * *
An hour later, all fifty slots were gone.
Those who failed beat their chests in despair. They crowded around Giovanni, pleading for more slots.
"Abbot, please give us another chance!"
"Yes! I haven't exchanged mine yet! Bartolo's ghost will come for me tonight!"
Giovanni looked at these lambs, who were now weeping because they could not give their money away, and showed regret mixed with helplessness.
"My children, it is not that I refuse to help. Cleansing resentment requires great holy power. The first batch of gold certificates is already the limit of what the monastery can bear."
Then he gave them hope.
"But do not worry. Next month, once the monastery has gathered enough holy power, we will consider issuing a second batch."
"Next month?! We have to wait a whole month?!"
"How will we survive this month?!"
Giovanni ignored the wailing.
He turned to those who already held certificates, carefully hiding them close to their bodies, and spoke solemnly.
"All holders of the St. Lucia Grace Gold Certificate, remember this. This certificate is a sacred contract between you and the Lord. It allows no private trade or transfer. If I discover anyone selling it cheaply and disturbing the Lord's grace, that person will be treated as a heretic. Their name will be permanently removed from the Book of Blessings."
Allowing free trade would create a real market price, and that price would be far below the face value. Once exposed, the bubble would burst instantly. By banning trade, even smart outsiders could not attack the scheme directly.
"But," Giovanni continued, "this certificate may be freely gifted to your direct family members. It may also be voluntarily donated back to the monastery. And if the holder is called by the Lord, the wealth and blessings represented by the certificate will automatically pass to their lawful heir."
He looked at them and concluded in a solemn tone.
"This is a blessing that can be passed down. It is a legacy for your descendants. It is more precious than worldly money, because it represents not only wealth but your family living forever under the Lord's glory."
At those words, the way certificate holders looked at the paper changed completely.
The St. Lucia Grace Gold Certificate was no longer just an investment. It became a family heirloom, a holy relic that protected descendants, generated steady returns, and guaranteed heaven after death.
Who would ever think of selling it? Who would want to redeem it?
This was something to pass down generation after generation.
Giovanni watched their reverent expressions and sneered inside.
By binding debt to faith, family, bloodline, and inheritance, he had almost completely erased the risk of mass redemption. This carefully crafted financial scam, wrapped in religion, had formed a perfect closed loop.
* * *
Night fell.
The underground cellar of the monastery once used for wine had been turned into a temporary vault. Dozens of tallow candles lit the room, illuminating a mountain of wealth.
Gold coins, silver coins, platters, goblets, gem-set daggers, pearl necklaces—all were piled on the floor like trash, glowing in light and shadow.
Giovanni grabbed a handful of coins and let them slip through his fingers.
Clatter, clatter…
It was the most beautiful sound he had heard since coming to this world. For the first time, a genuine smile, free of any disguise, appeared on his face.
This was not just money.
This was ammunition to conquer Florence, Italy, and even all of Europe.
With this, he could recruit knights loyal only to him. He could bribe bishops and men of power. He could plunder everything worth taking in the coming chaos.
He inhaled deeply. The scent of money filled his lungs.
"Luca."
"Yes, Abbot." Luca stood behind him, staring at the gold and silver, so excited he felt dizzy.
"From today on, the monastery finances will be divided into three pools."
"First, the Payment Pool. Fifty-five percent of all new funds must go here. Its only purpose is to pay Grace Returns to early investors. We must let everyone see how profitable investing in the Lord is. We will use endless gold to create an illusion of prosperity and lure bigger fish."
"Second, the Operations and Investment Pool. Twenty-five percent. Part of it improves our lives. We will eat the best bread, drink the best wine, and wear the finest robes. We are the Lord's representatives. Our dignity is the Lord's dignity."
"The rest, more importantly, funds the monastery's industries and… persuades the nobles, officials, and church leaders we need."
"Third, the Risk Reserve. The remaining twenty percent is sealed. No one may touch it. This is our final card. If unexpected redemption requests appear, this pool fills the gap and buys us time."
Luca took notes furiously. He did not fully understand these complicated arrangements.
He only needed to know one thing: execute them without question.
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So hey guys, just wanted to give a heads up for those of you who read it or like it. This novel is performing really badly, and I probably will drop it later. But personally, I do like this novel. Its a fresh type of setting, with all these theological talks and a Mc with no system and only with his brain. So, even though I might drop it, it might not also be completely, and I might update chapters here and there. Anyway, just wanted to give a heads up.
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