“Did I hear that right?”

“You just said medal?”

Mr. Truman suddenly wondered if he was hallucinating or if Lynch had misunderstood. How else could he have brought up a medal?

Lynch had already returned to the sofa, casually turned on the TV, and lowered the volume. Relaxed, he said, “Of course. I sacrificed my personal honor. You know, this isn’t easy—I’m a person with moral scruples.”

Mr. Truman laughed as if he’d heard the funniest joke in the world. After a while, his laughter subsided and he began to understand. “You’re really crazy, but I get what you mean.”

“This isn’t easy to handle. You can’t just tell the public you got a medal for sleeping with certain people for the country. But I’ll help you apply for it later,” he said, worried Lynch wouldn’t understand, so he hinted, “The aircraft…”

It was already August, soon September. Around October, Lynch would go to Gephra to be titled Baron of the Empire.

This move was indeed arranged by the Emperor of Gephra to annoy Lynch and the Federation president, but Lynch couldn’t refuse.

If he didn’t go, it would be like handing the emperor a dagger and letting him hold it, alert to a possible sudden attack.

Unless Lynch never returned to Gephra or got involved with anything related, he had to go.

And once this became public, for the Federation’s country folk, they’d instinctively see it as a good and honorable thing. Refusing wouldn’t look patriotic; it would only seem regrettable or suspicious.

But if he accepted and was granted the baron title, it would be awkward when he returned.

After the initial excitement, people would question how a Federation man could hold an imperial title.

This could be an advantage—after all, descendants of thieves, rapists, pirates, and exiles in the Federation still have a natural yearning for nobility. This status would be crucial when interacting with the elite.

But it could also be a liability. If someone used this against him, it could spark blind patriotic fury among the lower classes and create scandal.

Sometimes, thinking carefully, it was a joke: the truly patriotic people were at the bottom, while those at the top mostly cared only about interests.

Manipulated patriotism easily triggers ongoing conflict.

If Lynch had a medal—

Lynch has been bought by Gephra!

I’ve served the Federation!

Lynch has vested interests with Gephra!

I’ve served the Federation!

The Federation people were foolish, but powerful. The best move now was for Lynch to get a Federation medal.

Even the simplest medal proving his service to the Federation would quickly ease public opinion.

This medal couldn’t be awarded yet. It couldn’t just be given because Lynch met some of Jania’s demands—that would look like an accident. He still had a chance.

When the aircraft was unveiled, he might get a medal.

If the aircraft could effectively counter submarines as Lynch described, he might even receive the Federal Medal of the Noble Heart!

No more words that night.

Early the next morning, after exercising and showering, Lynch changed and sat at the table waiting for breakfast.

It was summer, and even in the morning, the community health doctor advised residents to finish morning exercise before the temperature rose or do it indoors.

Lynch didn’t go out. He didn’t want to run with a large group.

A servant brought the newspaper. He opened it to the front page: news about Shepford Marine Works.

Following data releases on the new submarine the past two days, Shepford Marine Works’s stock had risen noticeably since yesterday. Today, they announced applying for hundreds of engine patents, suggesting a breakthrough.

No doubt, after 9:30, Shepford Marine Works’s stock would skyrocket.

Lynch felt Shepford Marine Works’s urgent announcement wasn’t just about recovering from the last military exercise’s failure.

Their real goal was to boost stock prices. In the Federation, everything was fake except stocks and the money in investors’ pockets.

For capitalists, treason was just a game if the price was right.

As Lynch thought about Shepford Marine Works’s press conference and the financial market, the sergeant’s voice made him turn.

“Mr. Lynch, here’s the file on Corman…”

The sergeant took a file from a bodyguard and handed it to Lynch.

Blackstone Security was expanding, not only taking military contracts but also surveillance, tracking, and investigations that might skirt but not break Federation law.

Investigating an unremarkable small-town fitness coach was easy.

While eating bread, Lynch pulled out a modest file.

On the first page was Corman’s photo.

Lynch studied it carefully, occasionally commenting.

“Assault, served time…”

“Divorced before…”

“Maintained ambiguous relationships with over ten women of various ages…”

Lynch was a little surprised. “This guy surviving until now is a miracle!”

Corman’s past was amazing. At eighteen, he was sentenced to three years for assault but was paroled after eighteen months.

According to the file, Corman went to prison because of a girl. After his release, he married her—he was still under twenty at the time.

The marriage lasted only two years. Corman didn’t want children but refused to take proper precautions. After the girl had two abortions for him, they divorced.

He then changed jobs frequently, none lasting long for various reasons, until he found a new opportunity at a gym as a fitness coach, and his life stabilized.

Serra was just one of many lover clients. From the list of names, these women all seemed to come from good family backgrounds.

“Send a copy of this file to Serra as well. What she decides is her business,” Lynch closed the file and handed it back to the sergeant.

To him, Serra’s choice didn’t matter; she just needed to be happy.

For the poor, cost-effectiveness often guides decisions. For the wealthy, the main criterion is simply, I damn well want to.

For the next while, Lynch accompanied Jania traveling across the Federation. They either attended country operas harshly criticized by Jania for their flaws or watched the hottest movies at the famous Ruby Theater in a southern city.

They also sampled local delicacies. The Federation’s vast territory had diverse food specialties across regions, unlike Gephra—a small island whose only specialty was fish.

During this socializing, Gephra and other countries announced new military equipment development plans and specifications. The world had entered a strange cycle.

Before, they competed through war; now, they competed with numbers. It was interesting and novel.

The delegation also agreed on cultural exchange projects, signed contracts for book and film distribution, and purchased rights for imported works. Two Gephran theater and opera troupes toured widely, beloved by Federation citizens.

Anything connected to nobility inexplicably attracted people’s favor, like a way to hide unnoticed feelings of inferiority.

As mid-September approached, Gephra’s delegation’s visit was nearing its end.

“We’re leaving the day after tomorrow…”

Jania came out of the bathroom, drying her hair and sitting at the vanity.

Her biggest purchases in the Federation were trendy clothes and cosmetics.

Gephra’s nobility still held many traditions. The higher the rank, the less they changed them. For example, they never used perfume but always used incense.

Some noblewomen still didn’t use skincare products but instead used arsenic for beauty.

It sounded unbelievable, but for some ultra-traditional Gephran noblewomen, arsenic was indispensable.

It made their skin whiter, more beautiful, and translucent. Of course, it came at a heavy cost.

These women had difficulty bearing healthy children or even conceiving, and their lifespans were short. Depending on the amount and method of arsenic use, they lived between their 30s and 50s.

Although the Gephra Imperial Science Journal reported arsenic’s health hazards, some women persisted without hesitation.

Vanity was that important. Even if they couldn’t live long and endured great pain, as long as they lived in praise, they were willing to pay the price.