"Mr. Lynch, Mr. Gadon, son of a wealthy rchant in this city, has co to visit you. Will you see him or not?"
The next morning, just as Lynch had finished breakfast, soone from the Governor’s Mansion ca to convey Gadon’s desire to et Lynch.
Having lived in the Governor’s Mansion for quite so ti, it was about ti for Lynch to leave. In fact, he had already found a nice place and was in the process of building his house, which would be ready around the end of the year or early January for him to move in completely.
Lynch planned to return to the Federation before the end of the year, and once he returned, he could move straight into his new ho, so he hadn’t bothered to move out yet, preferring the convenience of staying put. This might be his last month in this comfort zone.
Living here didn’t feel too restrictive. Governor Drag was a smart man, and he had specifically hired a new batch of service staff to serve Lynch, avoiding any potential misunderstandings between the two sides.
In other words, in a sense, the entire Governor’s Mansion had been divided into two parts: one for Governor Drag and one for Lynch.
Standing before him was his "butler," but only temporarily. Ultimately, Lynch would choose soone suitable for the job himself.
The importance of a butler is undeniable. Every major family lets their heir select playmates from a young age, who accompany them throughout their schooling.
If these heirs are successful enough to inherit significant family assets, these playmates would then transform into their butlers.
Even if the heirs couldn’t inherit substantial wealth, these playmates could still beco reliable partners, helping them manage their assets.
This isn’t unique to here; there’s a similar chanism in another world, called "servitor children."
A butler could access many of the owner’s secrets, and those not trustworthy or reliable cannot undertake such a role.
Lynch was reading the newspaper. His focus didn’t shift as the temporary butler reported to him; instead, he continued focusing on the newspaper ahead. "Let Mr. Gadon co in."
The temporary butler bowed and left, while Lynch continued to pay attention to a piece of news, likely of little value to most people, about an international institution’s economic developnt rating for Nagariel in the next five years.
The newspaper’s masthead read "Daily Post," the largest newspaper circulation in Nagariel, focusing more on serious political, economic, and cultural content, rather than absurd folk tales like a girl having a child without any contact with a man, or people claiming the child was the Son of God.
The rating agency, which Lynch hadn’t heard much about, appeared to have done extensive howork, gathering lots of data. For example, since Nagariel and the Federation established diplomatic relations, Nagariel’s GDP in October had almost reached the sum of the previous three months of the last year.
This resulted from the United Developnt Company and a large number of Federation rchants activating Nagariel’s market economy after removing Pretton Trading Company’s trade blockades. Federation rchants could be seen everywhere discussing business with locals, with fur, spices, agricultural products, and Nagariel’s culturally distinctive handicrafts leading the sales.
The rating agency believed that as Federation rchants helped Nagariel through its basic industrialization process, Nagariel’s cheap labor was bound to trigger a new wave of developnt. Thus, they rated Nagariel’s future developnt trend with three small flas, roughly equivalent to "excellent."
This report was quite interesting, and Lynch raised an eyebrow at it. He had already detected a unique scent, suggesting that hot money drifting in the international financial markets had also sensed blood and was preparing to drive a new change.
In fact, behind these events, significant efforts ca from Lynch, the United Developnt Company, and the Federation Governnt, all trying to make Nagariel a "rising star of tomorrow."
Every party had its own thoughts and purposes, yet their approaches and dium-term goals coincidentally aligned, creating a synergy where everyone was pulling in the sa direction.
When a nation channels its might to promote sothing, it naturally attracts so opportunists.
As he put the newspaper back on the table, Lynch looked up to see Gadon had arrived and was standing not far away.
"You’ve been here a while?" Lynch was curious. He had confird he hadn’t heard any noise, even the slightest footstep, suggesting Gadon had been here for so ti.
Gadon, two years younger than Lynch, smiled shyly. "Yes, Mr. Lynch, I noticed you were intensely focused on the newspaper upon entering. It must have contained critical news worthy of your thoughts, so I refrained from disturbing you."
"I understand that inspired contemplation is hard to co by, so I kept quiet."
There was no "humility" in his deanor—of course, the humility here was rather in quotes. He directly stated he’d been there for a while to convey Lynch his respect and caution.
This approach didn’t seem very characteristic of Nagariel, whose people tended to be sowhat dull. Gadon’s actions resembled more those of Federation people, possibly related to having a foreign father.
This direct thod could easily win people’s favor. Not everyone had the ti or inclination to guess why others acted certain ways, so it was better to simply state it.
As Lynch observed Gadon, he found this young man quite interesting. Little did he know that the reason Gadon made no sound was because Mr. Simon at ho despised noise and interruptions to his thought process. Thus, Gadon mastered walking silently, just like a cat at ho, to avoid earning Mr. Simon’s displeasure.
Even though Mr. Simon had passed away, Gadon still retained this habit, culminating in this sowhat unconventional eting.
"You’re quite interesting, co sit..." Lynch gestured toward a nearby wicker chair, which Gadon obediently occupied, amusing Lynch further. "There’s no need to act so restrained and harmless; we all know it’s just an act."
Gadon initially thought he was doing well, but Lynch’s last remark left him stunned. He looked at Lynch, puzzled, "I don’t quite understand what you an, Mr. Lynch."
Lynch shook his head slightly, asked the butler for tea and pastries, then continued, "We both know what happened with the shooting yesterday."
A secret suddenly exposed, panic flashed in Gadon’s eyes. He felt an urge to flee, but years of emotional restraint instilled by Mr. Simon enabled him to appear remarkably composed.
"I don’t quite understand your aning, Mr. Lynch."
Watching Gadon’s uneasy deanor, Lynch chuckled softly, took out a cigarette, and gestured for Gadon, who hesitated for two seconds before accepting it.
Actually, Gadon didn’t smoke; with a controlling father who disliked him, many things others could do were off-limits to him. He always had to show his ritorious side to earn his father’s approval, making him a sadly constrained child.
Lynch lit the cigarette for him, and after taking a drag, Gadon coughed violently. Lynch then slightly instructed him on turning pain into pleasure, before continuing, "I can’t tell if those people were that stupid, or if you chose an idiot."
"Stupid people are easy to use, but they’re often so dumb they ruin your plans. It’s the clever ones who can truly help execute your sches."
"An assassination in a hotel is such a foolish move. Really, there are many other thods: poisoning, accidents, theft or robbery leading to murder, any one is better than sending soone to assassinate a foreigner at a hotel, especially during such a sensitive period."
"You made a mistake, Gadon!"
The admonished Gadon broke out in cold sweat, and the discomfort from the cigarette added to his distress. He slowly lowered his head, speaking in a slightly hoarse voice, "I’m sorry, Mr. Lynch. I made a mistake."
He felt conflicted, having believed his actions to be stealthy—certainly not easily discernible by anyone.
This realization ignited a unique fear towards Lynch, reminiscent of Mr. Simon’s accompanint of him and his mother during an earlier visit to Lynch. Mr. Simon, his father, an idol to pursue for life, was just as timid before Lynch as he was now.
An aura slowly emanating from Lynch, possibly deed an illusion by so, was clearly affecting Gadon, who regretted coming so hastily.
The butler then brought so drinks and pastries, while Lynch casually picked up a local fruit cake, taking a small bite.
Lynch didn’t actually enjoy sweets, which he associated with children, but fruit cake was an exception.
Made of pureed flesh from over a dozen fruits mixed with natural pectin, forming jelly-like cubes, it was quite delicious.
"State your purpose. Why have you co to see ?"
He turned to Gadon with an ordinary gaze that nonetheless imposed imnse pressure on him, abruptly locking his words.
Gadon’s real agenda was to seek new protection concerning the unsuccessful assassination attempt the previous night, ensuring his assets remained insured.
Failing to persuade Governor Drag for assistance, he pondered long and hard, identifying Lynch as the only person likely to see him and afford him a chance to speak. Thus he ca to try his luck.
Yet, he didn’t expect Lynch to see through everything before he even uttered a word, leaving him unsure how to proceed.
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