Blackstone Code Chapter 635: Change

It felt like his skull had been split open with an axe.

Truman slowly opened his eyes. In the darkness, he could barely make out the ceiling above him.

The soft mattress beneath him brought a slight sense of comfort. He liked soft beds—this one was even better and more comfortable than the one at ho.

mories from before he passed out began to resurface quickly. He suddenly sat up—and instantly inhaled sharply.

The sudden movent caused a tearing pain in his head. He couldn’t help but raise a hand to his forehead, squinting as he took a few deep breaths. The discomfort finally eased a little.

“I can’t drink that much again…” he warned himself. Everyone knows alcohol is bad for your health—and worse, it can lead to accidents. But sotis emotions take over, and it’s hard to control.

Was it… yesterday?

He suddenly looked to the side of the bed. In the disjointed, blurry flashes of mory, he recalled being completely wild last night—so wild that just thinking about it now made him flush with embarrassnt.

Luckily, the bed was empty. No girl. He let out a sigh of relief.

Mr. Truman was a married man, with a wife and children. For federal politicians, having a stable family is an important benchmark for climbing the ladder. No one can avoid it.

He didn’t necessarily love his wife. In this era, even for those in power, love was too heavy a word.

He might not truly love her, but he was determined to maintain the relationship. That was his responsibility.

He didn’t want a night of drinking to ruin everything. Thankfully, the worst didn’t happen.

He turned on the bedside lamp in the faint light.

His watch and other things were placed on the nightstand. He picked up the watch—still not yet 5 a.m. He’d been out all night. It had been a long, exhausting period, and last night’s release left him both drained and recharged.

He didn’t get up right away, instead leaning back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling and recalling pieces of mory.

He thought of his conversation with Lynch. Lynch’s ideal world struck him as interesting and refreshing—not at all what a capitalist should want.

Once his body had mostly recovered, he got up and headed to the bathroom. As hot water poured over him, he pondered what his ideal world really looked like.

At 9:30 a.m., he appeared outside the President’s office.

Today, Truman seed different. People had always seen him as a stern man—not one to smile easily, hard to get along with, even a bit severe.

But today, he wore a constant smile and took the initiative to greet everyone he passed. While it felt a bit strange to so, it wasn’t a bad thing. At least he wasn’t yelling—right?

“Co in…”

After waiting outside for about two minutes, he was summoned.

As soon as he entered, the President walked over smiling, placing a hand on his arm. “I heard sothing interesting—about you.”

He spoke first to keep Truman from taking the lead. He didn’t know what Truman might say, or whether he’d start spouting the sa rigid, stubborn views as before. If that happened, it would be awkward for everyone.

The President understood full well how important the consortiums were. In the structure of society, they were indispensable.

Many large-scale social projects, regardless of type, couldn’t be handled by ordinary institutions or individuals. Only the consortiums had the capacity to take them on.

He also knew the consortiums had caused certain negative effects on society—but they couldn’t be discarded.

Truman’s views often made things difficult. Everyone wanted the consortiums to behave like ta sheep—but was that even possible?

Caught off guard by the President’s interruption, Truman blinked. “?” He suddenly felt nervous. “What interesting thing?”

“Soone saw you at Red High Heels…” the President added, “You know, the strip club you guys went to. Thankfully, we managed to handle it well afterward.”

He smiled as he finished. In the city of Eminence, people cared deeply about two things: money and politics.

A survey once asked which region of the federation was most politically aware. They showed participants twenty portraits of more or less well-known politicians to see how many they could identify.

The West was rated least politically aware. Eminence was the most. There, even an average pedestrian could recognize at least half the politicians—quite impressive.

This also ant people had seen him, seen him enjoying himself with those dancers.

Truman’s face turned a bit awkward.

Luckily, this was all part of the President’s strategy—to steer the conversation and prevent Truman from speaking too forcefully. He patted Truman’s shoulder. “So what brings you here? I rember giving you a long vacation. You should relax. Don’t push yourself.”

So things can be said by so people—others can’t.

Truman cleared his throat and sighed softly. Then, he smiled. “Mr. President, I ca to apologize.”

“Apologize?” The unexpected words left the President montarily confused. He thought Truman was apologizing for showing up at the strip club last night.

While maintaining a clean image for governnt officials was important, visiting a strip club wasn’t illegal. The Federation allowed such venues. They were regular businesses. There was nothing wrong with it.

The President gave him a knowing look, patting his shoulder. “I understand. No need to apologize. n need to unwind sotis…” He leaned closer and whispered, “To be honest, I’ve gone a few tis myself.”

Truman: ???

He blinked, then ca back to his senses. “That’s not what I’m apologizing for. I’m apologizing for yelling at you before. I shouldn’t have done that. I regret acting so foolishly.”

It happened right here, in this office—when the President announced his leave of absence. Truman had shouted at him. When a person is hurt, it can feel like the whole world has betrayed them. That’s how he felt then.

He believed if the President had stood by him, he could’ve withstood the pressure from the consortiums. He called the President weak for compromising just to win an election—those words were harsh.

Today, he ca to apologize for them.

The President was surprised. He hadn’t expected Truman to apologize. He knew this subordinate well—forr military, tough as nails. He’d said a lot of outrageous things in the past, but the President never took them to heart.

He had never apologized before. This ti, he actually did. It was a small, pleasant surprise.

“Are you trying to scare ?”

“Scare?” Truman was confused for a mont, then quickly shook his head. “No… I also want to apologize for a lot of other things I’ve done in the past…”

Soone being willing to apologize ant more things could now be negotiated. In front of the President, he apologized for all the “mistakes” he had made and clearly acknowledged that winning the election and maintaining dostic social stability were more important than anything else.

This view aligned perfectly with the President’s—especially the importance of winning the election, which was the core concern of the President’s political coalition.

“I’m glad you’ve co to understand these issues,” the President said. “I also know the problems you brought up do need to be addressed. But to fix them, we must have power.”

“Without power, all we can do is appear on TV like clowns, expressing opinions no one cares about, trading attacks with equally disgraced political opponents. Beyond that, we’re powerless.”

“Truman, we don’t have money. We can’t go head-to-head with the consortiums. Our only leverage is power. Only by holding on tightly to it can the ideals you believe in have a chance of becoming reality.”

With the President’s direct affirmation, he also gave a subtle endorsent. He knew how far to go. His words struck a chord with Truman—especially about power.

With power, you can pursue your ideals and ambitions.

Without it, you rot away on a couch in front of the TV, surrounded by junk food.

So people study for years for a brighter future. Now it was his ti to study. He had to shed the sharp edges that hurt others, blend in, and bide his ti—until he held real power. True power.

“Mr. President, my recklessness and impulsiveness have caused a lot of trouble for our upcoming work. I want to…” He paused, forcing a strained smile. “I want to offer an apology to those people. What do you think?”

By “those people,” he ant the consortium leaders whose interests he had threatened. They had made a move, and now he was choosing to yield—resolving the conflict before things fully broke down. A win for everyone.

The President’s expression showed surprise at first, but quickly turned to pleasant surprise. “Don’t force yourself…”

“I’m not forcing myself. A man should repent for his mistakes. I’ve realized mine, and I want to own up to them.”

The President patted his shoulder. “You’re really not forcing yourself?” After receiving Truman’s firm confirmation, he nodded. “I’ll make the arrangents. Trust —I won’t let them give you a hard ti.”