The scent of shampoo.

At different stages of life, people are often moved by strange, inexplicable details.

It could be a dried leaf falling into the palm of your hand, the bleakness of a snowy day, the absence of someone during a spring full of blossoms, or the scent of shampoo lingering in the summer air before hair fully dries.

It wasn’t strong—just a faint fragrance. Lynch couldn’t quite describe what kind, and he wasn’t the type to care about which flower had which scent.

But that smell brought him peace. Maybe it was the shampoo. Maybe it was the person wearing it.

He set Katherine down. “I just came from the State University. Your first project phase is complete,” he said as he casually gave her a light pat near the top of her hips—not quite her hips, but close. “Let’s talk inside.”

She let go of him and pulled him into the room.

“It ended about a week ago. I thought you’d be here sooner!” she said. Lynch closed the door behind them.

The apartment was neat and tidy, just like it had been before.

When they used to live together, Katherine took care of the housework on top of her job. She worked hard during those two years.

“Sit wherever.” She curled up on the sofa, smiling uncontrollably as she looked at him.

Lynch sat beside her. Strangely, they ended up holding hands.

It was silly.

They weren’t even sitting that close together, yet they still held hands—like something out of a bad romance novel. But Lynch wanted to hold her hand, and she was willing to let him.

“Some work stuff delayed me. You know, I’m a big shot now,” he said with a laugh.

Back then, big shot was what he and Katherine dreamed of—being noticed by someone important and finally getting a chance to shine.

But no big shot ever showed up. Lynch became the big shot himself. And the two of them were still just the two of them.

Katherine’s eyes narrowed into a happy squint as Lynch asked about her life. “How’s school lately?”

He noticed a few books on the coffee table—things like 49 Ways to Manage Efficiently—mostly gimmicks with a bit of substance.

She glanced at the books too. “Same old. As long as our grades aren’t too bad, the professors don’t push us too much. But starting in September, we have our social internship course, so I need to get prepared.”

Federal universities vary in their requirements. Some expect students to intern during breaks and provide positive feedback before the next term. Others wait until the fourth year before mandating work placements.

Students can do whatever job they like, but internships are required.

And that’s when class differences start to show.

Ordinary students—though even ordinary here typically means middle-class—often intern at their parents’ companies. Their families pay a bit, pull some strings, and get them a position and a glowing review. That’s the typical internship experience.

Those from wealthier backgrounds have more choices and access to higher-quality internships—usually in finance. It’s not just about money; it’s about building networks.

As for the elite class, they’re rarely seen in public universities. They’re mostly in private ones. They intern in their parents’ firms, often starting as assistant manager or even assistant to the chairman.

And higher still?

Girls like Anna might get a few hundred thousand—or even a million—Sol from their fathers to start a real business during their internship. Some classmates might join in, but more often, they’re just employees, not partners.

That’s the start of a real network.

So what’s the value of internships?

A lot. Because the evaluations from internships can help professors decide whether to write recommendation letters.

The Federation is a society built on personal connections—more complex than most people realize. These connections are just hidden behind things like money.

Recommendation letters are one of the most common, yet overlooked, elements of this social system.

If someone wants to attend a prestigious school—especially one in the Saints & Harmony League—it takes more than money. Just like Lynch.

He needed a letter from Mr. Wadrick to secure admission.

This isn’t unique to Saints & Harmony. Almost all top-tier schools follow this logic. In a highly competitive environment, a few recommendation letters from alumni can make all the difference.

The same applies after graduation. If a student has strong letters and an outstanding internship review, they’re likely to land a good job.

Without them? They’re often left trying to buy their way into an average company—or worse, unemployed right out of school.

So while universities stress the importance of internships, the reality is—if you have resources, you don’t need help. And if you need help, no one can really offer it.

The final year is especially brutal. Campus stars often get crushed by reality at this stage.

“Management books, huh? Got a plan for the next step?” Lynch let go of her hand and flipped through the books on the table. “Thinking about where to intern? Need me to write you a recommendation letter for the Presidential Office?”

He said it casually, as a joke, while skimming the pages.

But with his letter, Katherine really could intern at the Presidential Office.

That’s not a joke. Every year, a few internship slots open up there—and competition is fierce.

Landing an internship at the heart of the federal government isn’t just about networking. It’s a launchpad.

Almost every intern from there ends up with a prestigious job after graduation. Some go straight into politics.

Interning at the Presidential Office is a powerful credential. It speaks not only to one’s abilities—but to the weight of the backing behind them.

Katherine was a bit in disbelief. “You make it sound like getting into the Presidential Office is easy. Do they even have intern positions?”

“Of course. Mostly physical labor, though. Why?” He looked up at her. “Interested?”

Katherine nodded. “Sounds kind of fun…” But she quickly shook her head. “Forget it. It sounds fun in theory, but if I really had to go to a place like that, I wouldn’t be able to breathe!”

Just imagining meeting the president and all those ministers every day made her feel completely unqualified.

She didn’t even know how many cabinet members there were, let alone their names.

If she went to a place like that, she’d definitely screw it up.

But as soon as she began to refuse, Lynch started to reconsider. He pressed his lips together, biting them slightly.

Katherine, who knew him well, instantly panicked. She nudged him. “Hey, no way—”

“You’re not seriously thinking about it, are you?”

“Why not?” Lynch shot back. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If we’re going to choose, let’s choose the best.”

He casually tossed the management book in his hand into the trash. “I’ll talk to them. When the new semester starts, you’re going to intern at the Presidential Office. No arguments.”

“Right now…” He stood up. “Let’s go buy some clothes and get the books you actually need. You need to start preparing—there’s not much time left.”

There was only about a month until September. In that time, Lynch needed her to at least know how many cabinet members there were—and other essentials.

A thought was beginning to take shape in his mind. In his dealings with politicians, many of the benefits he provided them didn’t actually serve him much.

Take his aerospace company, for example—it constantly funneled benefits to politicians and military officials, but he couldn’t always ask them for favors in return.

In other words, he was splitting profits with them while getting little in return.

They were the type who took money and did nothing.

“I work my ass off for this money,” he thought. “How can I let those bastards waste it for nothing?”

His eyes fell on Katherine.

If it can’t be wasted—then let’s put it to use.

A future… Madam President?

Now that’s interesting.