Bank

"Your coffee."

The girl, impeccably dressed in an exquisite maid uniform, its crisp lines contrasting with the rustic charm of Valentine, placed the steaming cup of coffee she was holding gently in front of Camille. A delicate porcelain cup, a rare sight in these parts.

"Thank you!" Camille murmured, her voice soft, offering a brief, distracted nod. Her gaze, however, remained fixed, unwavering, on the vast glass window of the coffee shop, her eyes sweeping over the bustling street outside.

Valentine had developed at a breathtaking pace over the past half year, undergoing immense, almost unbelievable changes. But the most significant transformation, the one that truly astonished Camille, was one fundamental thing: the people of Valentine had started to truly understand how to enjoy themselves, how to live, not just survive!

Damn it, can you believe this? Camille thought, a silent gasp of disbelief.

In this rugged Western region, where gangs ran rampant, their violence a constant threat, and where the per capita income was undeniably far lower than in the prosperous East, where a man working desperately could barely ensure his family's warmth and sustenance, the bare necessities of life, the people of Valentine had actually begun to learn how to enjoy themselves, to indulge in small luxuries!

This was truly too shocking, too contrary to everything she knew about the West!

Ever since Dutch Van der Linde had arrived, bringing his unorthodox vision, and began recruiting workers in Valentine with unheard-of wages, as well as opening up commercial stalls, Valentine's per capita income had soared, climbing steadily with each passing month.

Previously, only the privileged employees in Dutch Van der Linde's factory had enjoyed high incomes, an isolated pocket of prosperity. But with the rapid increase in employee numbers and the proliferation of market stalls, Valentine now boasted more and more genuinely wealthy residents, their pockets bulging.

Seeing that others were getting rich, openly flaunting their newfound prosperity, the people working for other ranch owners or bosses, still trapped in their old, meager wages, became increasingly unhappy. They staged daily protests, their voices growing louder, demanding better pay, which ultimately forced these reluctant bosses to slightly, grudgingly, increase their income levels, bowing to the pressure.

And with the continuous increase in Dutch Van der Linde's recruitment efforts, drawing workers like a magnet, and the corresponding decrease in the number of available laborers for others, these desperate ranch owners had to once again, and more substantially, raise their workers' incomes to prevent them from quitting their jobs en masse and wholeheartedly joining Dutch Van der Linde's factory, lured by its irresistible promises.

As a direct result of this escalating competition for labor, Valentine's per capita income gradually increased, snowballing upwards. And with the undeniable rise in per capita income, their various demands for living standards also grew, shifting from mere survival to a desire for comfort and enjoyment.

Goods that couldn't be sold before, gathering dust on shelves, were now in perennial short supply, snatched up as soon as they arrived. Livestock products that couldn't be sold before, once a burden, were now eagerly sought after, creating new markets. This unexpected boom led to the very bosses who had initially grumbled about lost profits due to employee wages actually discovering that their overall earnings had increased dramatically. In fact, their turnover over the past six months was far higher than ever before, which gave them a profound taste of success. Consequently, they began to spontaneously recruit workers on a large scale and offer them good wages, a direct emulation of Dutch's methods, to meet their suddenly increased production capacity.

In just half a year, Valentine residents' income had effectively doubled, a miraculous transformation. Their current monthly per capita income could even reach twenty dollars, a princely sum for the average Westerner, and most bosses, bowing to the new normal, had even started providing free food and lodging to prevent employee turnover and ensure they had a steady supply of loyal workers.

This remarkable surge in prosperity led to an excess of money in the hands of these ordinary people, who then, quite naturally, had to find new ways to spend it, to enjoy their newfound wealth. Consequently, this vibrant economic energy led to the rapid birth of more diverse lifestyle shops and services in Valentine, catering to newfound desires.

For example, elegant coffee shops, their windows steaming; tantalizing bakeries, filling the air with sweet scents; sophisticated dessert shops; and lively billiard rooms, their tables constantly occupied—all catering to the town's burgeoning leisure class.

The relentless anti-bandit operation in New Hanover, systematically eradicating criminal elements, made Valentine incredibly safe, transforming it into a secure haven. This safe environment, coupled with the increasing public demand for goods and services, attracted even more people and eager merchants from far and wide. The continuous arrival of these new residents and entrepreneurs not only provided more economic liquidity for Valentine but also dramatically increased the demand for even more goods, which, in turn, caused various industries within Valentine to flourish even more, thus attracting even more people, perpetuating a beautiful cycle.

It can be said that Valentine, under the astute and unorthodox control of Dutch Van der Linde, had entered a virtuous, self-sustaining cycle of prosperity and growth. This incredible cycle, Dutch knew, would continue uninterrupted until overcapacity eventually caused the market to be unable to absorb it, at which point competition would inevitably intensify, leading to price and wage cuts.

However, Dutch also shrewdly understood that this problem would not truly arise for at least a hundred years, far beyond his lifetime. Unless, of course, a major, external capital force abruptly entered the market and completely destroyed Valentine's unique system with more powerful, overwhelming productivity, a massive, disruptive intervention.

But that, Camille knew, was clearly unlikely, because New Hanover's formidable bunker clusters, guarding its borders, would not allow it. They were an impregnable fortress.

The person most deeply affected by Valentine's booming, almost miraculous development was not Sheriff Malloy, now a mere figurehead, nor even Dutch Van der Linde himself, the architect of it all, nor merely the residents living in Valentine, enjoying their newfound prosperity, but Camille, who had traveled a long, arduous distance from Saint Denis, her expectations shattered by reality.

Her sophisticated gaze swept over the bustling street outside the coffee shop's vast glass window, her eyes wide with a dazed, almost hypnotized expression. She watched the joyous crowds queuing patiently, eagerly, to buy tempting desserts, their faces alight with anticipation, and inhaled the rich, slightly milky and sweet aroma of the coffee steaming in front of her. Her eyes were filled with a profound, almost dreamlike dazedness, unable to fully reconcile what she saw with what she believed possible.

"Mr. Brown, has Valentine's development always been this good?" Camille's tone was filled with unadulterated amazement, a hint of awe.

She had been exploring here for three days now, meticulously observing every detail, and this place felt exceptionally strange to her, utterly unlike any other town she had ever encountered!

She always felt as if the people living here had no worries at all; every single person she saw was bustling with an infectious energy, a genuine, unforced smile gracing their face, a stark contrast to the grim expressions of the city dwellers.

Whether it was the sturdy workers on the street, their shoulders square, or the polite coffee shop staff, their movements efficient, every single one of them looked energetic and smiling, as if nothing, no worldly concern, could possibly cause them to worry, to fret, or to frown.

Even though their clothes were very simple, practical, perhaps even a bit worn, even though many of them were unkempt, their hair and beards wild, even though they haggled passionately over a mere two-cent beer, these people were inexplicably, undeniably happy, their spirits soaring, as if their future was incredibly bright, a destiny of boundless prosperity!

Damn it, Camille thought, a silent, almost bitter acknowledgment, she had never, in all her travels, seen such an optimistic, hopeful state of mind among the populace! Whether in the sophisticated, bustling Saint Denis or the even more prosperous cities of the Eastern United States, the common people, regardless of their living conditions, never possessed this kind of vibrant, hopeful spirit, this profound sense of optimism for the future!

"This… Camille, I'm not too sure about this. Perhaps it's also the changes brought by Dutch Van der Linde." Mr. Brown conceded, his shoulders slumping slightly. He no longer wanted to argue, to maintain a façade of knowledge he didn't possess.

Because his opportunity for advancement had long since passed, irrevocably lost. Camille had already discreetly, but firmly, labeled him as incompetent in her mental ledger, and no amount of pathetic concealment or desperate argument would change that.

So, he decided, it was better not to conceal it and just admit he didn't know, letting the truth hang in the air.

Listening to Mr. Brown's honest, if unhelpful, words, Camille merely nodded, her expression understanding, and did not blame him.

New Hanover was very far from Saint Denis; it was perfectly normal for him not to know the intricate details of its peculiar development.

Thinking of this, she waved her hand, a graceful, imperious gesture, calling the young maid who had just left back to her table.

"Hello, miss," Camille began, her voice polite, refined. She offered a small, reassuring smile. "I have a few questions I'd like to ask you, and I hope you can spare me a moment." Saying this, Camille reached into her purse, pulled out a crisp dollar bill, and placed it on the table in front of her, pushing it discreetly towards the surprised girl.

"Of course, miss!" The girl exclaimed, her eyes widening in delight. She joyfully picked up the dollar bill, her fingers trembling slightly, and quickly tucked it into the pocket of her pristine apron.

Oh my, a one-dollar tip, the maid thought, a surge of happiness coursing through her. That's not common at all! Although her regular salary, set by Dutch's new policies, could already reach a respectable twenty dollars a month, who in their right mind could possibly refuse an extra, unexpected dollar? It was a delightful bonus.

The girl stood respectfully by the table, her posture attentive, her gaze eager, awaiting Camille's questions.

"I wanted to ask you, has Valentine always been this… vibrant? This prosperous?" Camille asked, her eyes still looking out the window, fixed on the opposite side of the street. "Or is it perhaps because of Dutch Van der Linde?"

A flurry of activity seemed to be taking place across the street; a ribbon-cutting ceremony appeared to be underway. The entire shop looked high-end and grand, its polished façade gleaming in the morning light, surrounded by boisterous crowds of people shouting and cheering, their voices ringing with excitement. Many were constantly waving stacks of dollars in their hands, jostling for position.

Of course, none of that initial observation truly mattered; the most important, the most shocking thing, was the name emblazoned prominently on the shop's new, gleaming sign.

'Van der Linde Bank.'

A young Black man, his face beaming with pride, was holding the large red flower for the ribbon-cutting ceremony, smiling happily at the bank entrance. Beside him, an equally young American man, his expression serious and focused, held a pair of large, gleaming scissors, ready to make the symbolic cut.

Damn it, Camille thought, a sudden, cold knot forming in her stomach, her eyes narrowing slightly. Does Dutch Van der Linde want to open a bank now? An actual bank? The audacity was staggering.

The Morgan Consortium's main business, its very foundation, was commercial banking; she had originally harbored a discreet plan of establishing a branch in Valentine, seeing its burgeoning potential. But she didn't expect Dutch Van der Linde, the outlaw, to be a step ahead, to preemptively establish his own bank first!

But the reaction of the crowd gathered in front of the bank seemed utterly off, didn't it? Who would be holding money and gathered at a bank entrance, jostling and waiting with such eagerness to deposit money? And which ordinary person, which common laborer, deposited money in a bank at all? It defied all conventional banking logic.

At this stage, American banks notoriously required significant management fees, often eating into meager savings. There were no exemptions for accounts below a certain amount, and cruelly, there was no interest paid for low-income groups, effectively punishing them for saving. So, most people who deposited money in banks were, by necessity, already wealthy, their fortunes large enough to absorb the fees.

But these ordinary people, these laborers and shopkeepers, were now gathered at the bank entrance, jostling eagerly, almost frantically, to deposit their money, to put their trust in this new institution, which was truly too strange, too unprecedented to comprehend.

It's highly likely, Camille shrewdly realized, that the money they held in their hands wasn't even enough to cover the bank's exorbitant management fees! Yet they were eager, joyous. What was Dutch's game?