At 9:40, Richard arrived early and sat down in the café.
He chose a corner seat by the window. The lighting was good there, and the nearly invisible glass—polished clean by the staff—offered a clear view of the street.
It was also just a few steps away from the door to the back room.
He sat facing the entrance and drifted into thought.
He thought about many things—so aningful, so not. For example, the seat he chose.
Back when he was still a junior employee under Lynch, they used to dine out together often. Lynch would always choose to sit by the window, with his back to the wall, facing the door.
Richard had always found that curious. One day, unable to contain his curiosity, he asked Lynch about it.
“Boss, why do you always pick that kind of seat?”
Lynch had replied, “Because it’s safe.”
Safe?
Richard hadn’t understood at the ti, so Lynch patiently explained. That position allowed him to see everyone entering and spot anything suspicious outside. If anything went wrong, he wouldn’t have to worry about being attacked from behind—he could focus entirely on the threat in front.
If he could win the fight, he would. If not, he’d smash the window and escape.
Richard had burst out laughing. It sounded like sothing a gangster would say—like a trick only criminals used.
He asked Lynch why he bothered with such precautions when he didn’t even have enemies.
Lynch told him, “Staying vigilant is never a mistake. Not ever.”
That line stuck with him.
He rembered how Lynch, younger than him, already had far more experience and insight. Sotis Richard wondered if Lynch only looked young.
After all, so people looked like they were in their 40s but were actually in their 60s.
So soone who looked 20-sothing might well be in their 30s.
There was no way Lynch could have accumulated so much knowledge and experience in just two or three years after graduating high school—unless he had been born with it.
Richard chuckled at the thought. He knew he was being irrational. It was just a way to escape his own lack of confidence in dealing with Lynch.
When people start to doubt themselves, they often turn to superstition to avoid facing their own inadequacy.
That was also sothing Lynch had said.
Richard shook his head and felt under his clothes for the holstered gun. The touch of it brought him a sudden sense of peace.
Even if Lynch had been born a god, a single bullet could still kill him.
Ti passed slowly, until finally the clock struck ten.
At 9:59:45, Lynch appeared outside the café.
He entered at the fifty-second mark and sat down at the table at exactly 9:59:59.
“Looks like I’m not late,” Lynch smiled. “A cup of hand-ground coffee, please.”
The server left. Lynch crossed his legs and looked at Richard. “I was busy last night. It’s hard to explain over the phone. What did you want to talk about?”
Richard withdrew his hand from his pocket, lifted his coffee cup, and took a sip. Earlier, he had been desperate to see Lynch, but now, not so much.
He knew Lynch well—knew how formidable he was. Showing too much urgency might expose sothing.
He rembered Lynch once said that careful observation of small details could reveal a person’s inner thoughts. Richard didn’t want to be that person.
“Soone’s been dumping company stock. Millions of shares sold off in a single day—quietly,” he said, calmly setting down his cup and eting Lynch’s gaze.
His tone was casual, as if he were comnting on sothing trivial.
Lynch smiled slightly. “How do you know soone’s dumping stock, and not just normal market movent?”
“It’s you, isn’t it?” Richard didn’t answer the question—because he couldn’t. Instead, he responded with a question of his own, hoping to catch so change in Lynch’s expression.
But there was none.
“Whether it’s or not—what difference does it make to you?”
Richard thought for a mont, then said nothing.
Just then, the server returned with Lynch’s coffee and left.
Lynch took a small sip and nodded in satisfaction. “Much better than what they serve at the presidential palace. You’ve never been there, so you don’t know how awful that coffee is.”
Richard let out a small laugh. “Even if you don’t admit it, I know it’s you. When did it start?”
Lynch pursed his lips. “That’s hard to answer. Honestly, it started from the last ti we t in the Federation.”
“So parts of the plan didn’t go exactly how I expected. I’m not a god—I can’t predict your every move. You were too flashy, Richard.”
Lynch was composed, elegant, and calm. The more poised he appeared, the more nervous Richard beca. He was starting to sweat.
Lynch’s presence, his aura, gave Richard a terrifying sense of helplessness—like a bug caught in a spider’s web, powerless to escape, watching his own end draw closer.
He swallowed hard. “What gives you the right to tell what to do?”
His voice rose. “It’s always been like this—then and now. You’re always telling how I should do things, what I ought to do. But you’ve never once tried to understand things from my point of view!”
To Richard, even learning from Lynch’s strengths was a form of demand.
Lynch wanted him to do sothing, and he had to comply—to learn from Lynch and follow his way.
Now Lynch was accusing him of being too flashy. Richard knew it was about pushing Harmony Capital to go public.
He had his own plan. This was his best chance to break free from Lynch. Once the IPO was done and the Q4 financial report ca out, the stock would soar, and he could cash out for at least a hundred million Sol.
With that kind of money, he could do anything.
He wouldn’t need to fear Lynch anymore. He could confront him directly—even go head-to-head.
But now Lynch was sitting here criticizing him for being too high-profile, and all his suppressed frustration burst out at once.
The café was empty. Even the lone waiter had stepped away, seemingly leaving the space to the two of them.
“I never said you had to do anything,” Lynch stirred his coffee slowly, releasing its rich aroma. “I only offered a possible approach for your reference. Maybe the way I suggested was the most suitable.”
“I respect your personal freedom. You’re free to act on your own ideas. That’s your right.”
“We’re Federation citizens. We fight for freedom. We die for freedom. I respect all your rights.”
“But if you have your own ideas, then you can’t stop from having mine.”
“You wanted to sabotage my plan—that’s fine. I didn’t stop you. I even helped you. So what right do you have to bla ?”
Richard’s expression twisted—part hesitation, part hostility. Lynch had laid it all bare, and Richard still felt so uncertainty inside.
Was he really going to burn bridges with Lynch?
He hadn’t thought much of it before. But now, face-to-face with Lynch, the pressure was imnse. It made him doubt his decision.
That hesitation, however, was quickly drowned in anger and other emotions.
If he backed down now, he’d never escape Lynch’s shadow. What would his subordinates think? His partners?
They’d abandon him. And he didn’t want to spend his life working for soone else. He wanted to be the boss.
Clenching his teeth, he stared at Lynch, breathing heavily. “I haven’t lost yet, Lynch.”
“That’s the first ti you’ve called by na,” Lynch remarked lightly. “And without a title.”
He picked up his coffee and took another sip.
Gephra’s coffee beans were roasted longer than the Federation’s. That brought out the oils and aroma, while eliminating the sourness.
But the bitterness beca more pronounced. Federals could handle sourness—it was how they judged if fruit was fresh—but bitterness? That they couldn’t stand.
Their habit of dumping more sugar into coffee than any other country showed that clearly. It also made Gephran coffee distinctly different from the Federation’s.
“Don’t you look down on !” Richard snapped again, losing control. He’d always been a step beneath Lynch. The more composed Lynch acted, the more it infuriated him. His hand slipped into his pocket, gripping the holster beneath the fabric.
Only by doing that did he feel like he had so control left.
Lynch smiled, unfazed. “Do you rember, Richard? I taught you to watch the details.”
Before Richard could speak, Lynch set down his cup. “Actually, I knew you were carrying a gun the mont you walked in. You hadn’t decided whether to use it.”
“You think having a weapon changes the dynamic between us. But you don’t even need to try—it won’t change a thing.”
“There are at least two guns aid at your head right now. If I make a move, or you make a dangerous one, a bullet will blow your brains out.”
“You may think you’ve grown up—like so rebellious teenager, ready to take on the world.”
“But from where I’m standing, you’re still too green. Tomorrow’s outco cos from today’s choices.”
“You’ve made your move. Now it’s my turn.”
Lynch smiled, drained his coffee, and set the cup down. “Not bad. But no need for you to pay.” He placed two bills under the saucer, stood up, and gave a slight nod.
“Goodbye, Richard.”
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