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Chapter 68
You reap what you sow.
Buddhism teaches the law of cause and effect: yesterday's actions become today's consequences.
Malfoy—currently stuck at the front desk—could only mutter bitterly under his breath. All of this was, in truth, the fruit of his own making.
On inventory days at the Sealed Vaults , the most trusted goblin must go down personally to check the vaults. But the rest of the staff can't simply stand idle—they're required to assist, verifying items after counting or handling various paperwork.
So Malfoy was in his small office, doing exactly that.
But when he heard the dragon's roar shake the entirety of Diagon Alley, he knew immediately things had gone wrong.
The strongest fortress in the world is always breached from within.
That was why Malfoy had chosen to bribe the pulring.
Yet somehow, the inside agent had failed—despite Malfoy giving him every opportunity to act quietly.
It didn't take long for Malfoy to learn what had happened.
The branch president urgently summoned all staff.
A goblin was severely injured—large portions of his body scorched. He was rushed to the Equipment Accident Ward at St. Mungo's. The rest, panicking, had tripped over each other; a few even fell off their carts, cracking their skulls open. More names were added to the hospital list.
Most goblins were simply terrified. Gringotts—lauded for centuries as the safest place in Britain—had not suffered such an incident in generations.
And so the goblins went on strike.
If leadership had walked out now and declared, "This was caused by worker negligence," the scene would likely have turned violent.
The branch president responded quickly: goblins willing to take leave could do so; those staying on would receive double wages. This appeased the majority.
Labor relations depend on supply and demand. In certain far-eastern nations, capital's rulers simply say, "Work if you want; get lost if you don't," and still have endless cheap labor.
But Gringotts was different.
Their workforce was overwhelmingly goblins; human wizards were a small minority. After the old Goblin Rebellions had decimated goblin numbers, and with their naturally low fertility, every goblin laborer was precious.
Which is how Malfoy—the seemingly "idle" one—got dragged in as an emergency stand-in.
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"Hello, customer. Your vault is listed as No. 423. Please follow the guide."
"Hello, dear customer. The vault you're using is temporarily suspended due to a minor issue that occurred a few days ago. Repairs are underway."
"What? I can't withdraw my own money?"
"This is the only magical bank in Europe? Ridiculous—call your president!"
On good days, Malfoy met reasonable people.
On bad days—like today—he met these.
If they still refused to listen, then…
"I heard the president hired combat wizards to prevent infiltration from a wanted criminal," Malfoy would mutter just loudly enough for the customer to hear. "I suppose they're eager to prove their worth."
A monopoly changes the buyer–seller relationship completely. And Gringotts was a complete monopoly. Not every family could afford a private vault.
Most customers backed down.
But today was cursed.
"England's Gringotts treats its customers so rudely. How disappointing."
The complaint drifted from the back of the line—a young woman's voice, light and melodic as birdsong. But her words stung.
Her speech wasn't smooth; there was a delicate foreign accent. Elegant, pleasant—clearly not British.
Crowds gathered. Not just for the argument—but because the speaker was beautiful.
Trouble plus beauty always draws onlookers.
She had shoulder-length silver hair, wide azure eyes, and perfectly even white teeth. Her features were universally appealing; anywhere in the world, she would be considered strikingly beautiful.
Her faintly exotic charm and noble bearing only enhanced that effect.
Conquering an arrogant beauty is, to many men, a form of achievement.
But Malfoy didn't even glance up. He kept writing, voice calm but firm:
"The receptionist is rude. I apologize for that. But—"
He paused, then continued:
"The polite goblin receptionist you expected discovered a prohibited object in a customer's assets. When the protective magic failed, a major accident occurred. To protect other vaults, many goblins were injured—one nearly died and is now in St. Mungo's."
"Therefore, I am not in the mood to entertain customers who might violate our agreements. Maintaining basic courtesy is already the limit of my restraint."
"I do not wish to think about the goblins who used to be my colleagues… now lying at death's door."
While speaking, Malfoy subtly wove a charm into his voice, amplifying emotional weight. Combined with his acting skill, he swayed a significant portion of the crowd.
Only the young woman remained stubborn.
She lifted her chin and demanded, "Where is the proof?"
She already believed him 70 or 80 percent—but pride wouldn't let her yield.
"St. Mungo's, fifth floor," Malfoy said quietly. "If you have the courage to visit a goblin with eighty percent of his body burned, I hope you don't suffer nightmares after."
The girl's posture collapsed; her confident stance wilted. She withdrew silently.
The show was over; the crowd dispersed.
To someone who'd lived through the internet age, manipulating self-righteous but inexperienced young women with words was almost unfair. First seize the moral high ground—then you cannot lose.
His logic had been flimsy. It was mostly rhetoric and magic.
If someone wanted to refute him, it would have been easy:
"Shouldn't you honor your colleagues' sacrifice by serving us better?"
"Isn't what you're doing smearing their reputation?"
But no one reacted in time.
Those delayed by business simply tolerated it.
When Malfoy finally left Gringotts, he had even earned a bonus for handling the impromptu public-relations crisis.
But that was a small matter.
More importantly, a dark premonition gnawed at him—his head had throbbed the entire morning.
As the saying goes: misfortune never comes alone.
He felt something big was about to happen in Gringotts.
But for now, he had to fill in for injured goblins. Resigning now would only arouse suspicion.
"Mister, please show your identification."
"Roy, take this young lady to Vault 314."
For now, he could only grit his teeth and continue.
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