In the room, the president of the Gephra Chamber of Comrce looked at Lynch with a changing expression—uncertain and confused about the current situation.
By rights, Lynch had caused them great losses. Local hostility toward Gephras ant they couldn’t recruit workers, while federal businessn like Lynch used the opportunity to gain an edge during developnt.
If the roles were reversed, the president would never have given them a chance. He would’ve flooded the market with local and imported goods and even used borderline political slogans and tactics to stir up nationalist sentint among locals.
The president was no stranger to such thods—slogans like “If you don’t buy, you’re not a true imperial” had long been overused by them.
But what he hadn’t expected was Lynch going off script—he actually offered help, assisting Gephras in solving their problem. That raised more questions. Was there more going on here?
The president remained silent, studying Lynch. Aside from his good looks and youth, he didn’t find anything particularly revealing.
“What… exactly do you want?” he couldn’t help but ask.
He didn’t expect Lynch to answer. It was more of an instinctive question, asked in a mont of confusion.
Lynch smiled naturally. “To make money, nothing more.”
Still confused, the president pursed his lips. “We’ll need a formal contract on this,” he tested further.
Lynch readily agreed. “Of course. That’s only right.”
Seeing no obvious trap, the president finally nodded. After all, getting started—and securing the lead—was too important.
Even though Gephra capital was ultimately controlled by the nobility, capital itself doesn’t lose its nature just because it’s restrained by power.
“As for headcount, I’ll need to speak with my colleagues. Shall we et again tomorrow or the day after?”
With Lynch confirming, he excused himself, avoiding pointless conversation. At this point, they were still competitors—perhaps even enemies.
Staying longer would only be awkward.
Watching Lynch’s car drive away from the window, the president sat in the study thinking a while before picking up the phone to call others.
Each ti the call connected, he’d say: “I’ve found a way to solve the labor shortage…”
The next morning, everyone had arrived early—still several minutes before the scheduled eting.
“This is the most diligent I’ve ever seen you lot!” the president joked, pleased to be solving problems while maintaining authority.
Gephras usually considered not being late punctual. Arriving early was rare, and even if they did, they’d typically loiter nearby until the appointed ti.
But today was an exception.
“President, if you could skip the things we don’t like to hear, that might be more aningful to us,” soone shot back, clearly impatient.
The president knew there was a line between a good joke and a bad one.
He cleared his throat and spoke in a slightly gravelly voice, “I spoke with Lynch yesterday. He’s willing to fill our labor shortage.”
“President, is this the sa Lynch I know?” soone imdiately asked.
The president nodded. “Yes, the federal businessman. That Lynch.”
“He approached last night, offered to help us find enough workers. Paid daily, three Gaels per day.”
Three Gaels—currently equivalent to about five Federal Sols—seed reasonable, though not high. Both Gephra’s dostic wages and the Federation’s minimum wage laws were higher. Still, it wasn’t a loss, and it allowed for imdiate work to begin.
Soone voiced concern. “President, could this be a trap?” he explained, “We all know Lynch isn’t a good man. He’s allegedly driven many people to ruin. Even our current situation might be part of his plan.”
“As competitors, for him to suddenly help us solve a problem—it seems suspicious.”
“Compared to conquering markets in Zhuris and beyond, I doubt he’s just doing this for worker exploitation profits. Could this be a new trap?”
People began discussing it intensely. Most believed it was possible—Lynch’s past victories made everyone cautious. No one dared to guarantee safety.
“He’s willing to sign a contract, gentlen. This isn’t our holand—it’s the Imperial Special Zone, where everything runs on international rules,” the president said, pulling out his half-smoked Coluff and opening the lid. Soone quickly lit it for him.
After a couple of puffs and a cloud of fragrant smoke, he continued, “We must adapt to this trend, this change. Anything suspicious—write it into the contract.”
“If we follow the contract, Lynch can’t trick us. And if he tries, the Governor will have cause to intervene. So we can rest easy…”
Consensus quickly ford. They estimated a labor gap of 40,000 workers.
It was slightly less than that, but to avoid any errors, they rounded up. The extra 2,000–3,000 would offer flexibility.
When they gave Lynch the number, he was thrilled.
He’d only need to pay Nagaryll workers less than two Federal Sols, leaving over two Sols in profit.
With 40,000 workers, that ant nearly 100,000 Sols in daily profit—and that was just Zhuris. If cities across all of Allia used his labor force, daily profits could soar into the millions!
Even if not every place used his workforce or on this scale, Lynch believed that as industry expanded, labor demand would only rise.
Gephra’s dostic resources were nearly tapped out. Their crowded island was full of idle nobles and capital—another reason the empire clung tightly to Allia.
They needed to shift from an island nation to a continental one.
With initial reconstruction and developnt completed, Allia’s growth would only accelerate. More and more industries would shift here—light, heavy, processing, manufacturing…These enterprises all require massive labor forces. Compared to the now highly sensitive issue of racial tensions, the Gephras, in order to maintain stability, will gradually learn to compromise.
They won’t continue provoking the locals, but so jobs are inherently unsafe. Given similar wage levels, Nagarylls are hardworking, obedient, and even if a few die occasionally, it doesn’t matter much.
In this period of urgent, high-intensity developnt, laborers are treated as consumables.
Locals aren’t so easily expendable—they’re more likely to resist or spark unrest. The only viable option is long-term cooperation with Lynch.
Labor demand will only grow—never shrink.
To keep his business thriving, Lynch would treat factory managent in Allia like running a retirent ho.
Another day passed, and both sides signed the Labor Employnt Contract under the supervision and witness of city hall. Facing nurous reporters, the mayor announced that the wave of industrial resumption was imminent, and a new phase of urban construction would begin.
“Don’t push! Stay in line!” At the port of Nagaryll, police with batons maintained order outside the crowds. Anyone who rushed or broke formation was swiftly driven off with a few strikes.
Overall, the order was decent. At least these Nagarylls—who’d received basic literacy education and improved sowhat—weren’t causing chaos.
They held Overseas Work Passports in hand, carrying changes of clothes as they prepared to board.
To cut transportation costs, Lynch had the shipping companies move people as if they were freight.
No passenger ships—those couldn’t handle such numbers and cost too much. Instead, cargo ships were a better fit.
It only took three days to sail from Nagaryll to Allia. During the trip, people were packed into shipping containers—with ventilation, food, water, and onboard doctors. The containers weren’t sealed like cans, after all.
This slashed transportation costs.
Beyond the docks, even more people were gathering. Ever since Lynch’s Federal Labor company began sending workers abroad, Nagaryll society had been set ablaze by the news.
The reason was simple: overseas work paid 1.75 sols per day—the equivalent of a second-class worker’s wage. Add 0.25 in al subsidies, and each worker was earning about 2 sols a day!
God—when had Nagaryll ever offered such lucrative jobs?
Almost every local who’d been through a literacy class signed up, and even then, many were still left out, pleading at the gates for a chance.
To them, it wasn’t a plunge into the unknown—it was a path to a brighter future!
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