Blackstone Code-Chapter 375: The Desperate Red Carpet

The golden horseshoe reflected a unique glow under the lights.

Unlike other metals that shine sharply, gold’s reflection felt steady and reliable, drawing people closer.

This was the Horseshoe Cinema, also known as the Western Cinema.

In Lardimore, this theater was nearly the exclusive premiere venue for Westerns, cowboy films, and adventure movies.

Legend says the first cowboy film in federal history premiered here.

That film caused a huge sensation and saved the nearly bankrupt theater. To honor the movie’s role in rescuing the cinema and marking the start of a new genre and era, the theater was renamed Western Cinema and adopted the protagonist’s cherished horseshoe from that first cowboy film as its emblem.

This is why people often called it the Horseshoe or Horseshoe Cinema, though few knew its official name was Western Cinema.

Above the entrance hung a gold-plated horseshoe. It was famous across the federation for being targeted by thieves and bandits at night, who tried to scrape off the gold with files and knives.

But people knew it was only a thin gold coating—removing the horseshoe wouldn’t yield gold worth more than its metal base.

Eventually, the attempts stopped, partly because the horseshoe was electrified.

To avoid constant repairs, the owners connected the horseshoe to a safe but painful electric current and arranged for 24-hour guards.

Outside the Western Cinema, a crowd packed the area. Reporters from every media outlet blocked the streets, alongside eager fans and paid attendees.

This was just part of life in Lardimore. Local fan groups weren’t just regular fans; they were semi-professional workers.

When a premiere needed to show strong fan support, these groups were contacted.

It was common practice—after all, not every film drew large crowds, and many stars’ fans didn’t live in Lardimore.

The industry had more insiders than real fans, except for some tourists.

As prominent insiders appeared, the professional fans erupted into nonstop cheers and screams, their energy fueling the excitement of genuine fans nearby. The atmosphere was electric.

When a stretched limousine pulled up to the start of the red carpet and its door opened, flashes nearly blinded the crowd.

Lynch stepped out, shielding the top of the door with one hand while extending his forearm.

A delicate hand reached out from the car and rested on his arm, followed by a pair of striking red high heels hitting the ground. The flashes intensified—thanks to disposable magnesium flash blocks invented by industry and technology, making it easier and faster for reporters to capture the moment.

Then a young woman emerged, bowing slightly, one hand pressed to her chest to cover her neckline.

A beautiful girl. The professional fans screamed again, as if she were a real celebrity. Some scrambled forward with autograph books. The excitement reached a fever pitch.

Though Lynch wasn’t an actor, he was popular in this circle.

Handsome, young, wealthy, more widely known than many stars, and with influence beyond them—he was a star without being a star.

Beside him stood the girl who had accompanied him to a previous premiere.

Her agency was invited again, and as their top young actress, she was a key focus. Regardless of how much effort was spent placing her by Lynch’s side, Lynch didn’t mind. ℝ𝖆ꞐȪ₿Ëš

At least he’d interacted with her and didn’t dislike beautiful women.

“Thank you,” the girl said gracefully, acknowledging Lynch’s gentlemanly gesture. She adjusted her long dress and walked beside him down the red carpet.

The crowd’s cheers and her name blended into a roaring wave.

She tried to maintain perfection for everyone and the press, growing a little intoxicated by the attention.

Having just turned eighteen, the girl found it hard to resist all this. Everyone dreams of moments like this—being the center of the world, with everything revolving around them.

At this moment, she truly felt like the center, surrounded by praise.

“You’re walking a bit slow…” The girl’s daydream was interrupted by Lynch’s voice. She looked back at him, puzzled.

Lynch quickened his pace. “We should move faster; the flashes are blinding.”

Though not very strong, Lynch’s pull was irresistible. The girl had to match his speed to avoid embarrassment, though it went against her agent’s instructions.

Her agency had paid dearly to secure her as Lynch’s companion at this premiere. They hoped for a good return and slowing down on the red carpet was part of that plan.

With Lynch present, no security would rush over to say their time was up; instead, they’d smile and offer praise.

But they hadn’t counted on Lynch himself.

Seeing Lynch and the girl speed up, the agent—once content—was stunned. A walk planned to last three, five, or even eight minutes was already halfway done.

If they didn’t intervene, the whole carpet might be covered in under a minute.

She grabbed an autograph book from a resting fan and pushed forward, shouting, “Please sign for me! I’m your loyal fan!”

The girl stopped in surprise upon hearing the familiar voice. She glanced at her agent, then paused.

Lynch stopped as the girl gently bit her lip, looking at him with pleading eyes like a child craving candy—impossible to refuse.

Lynch released his arm. The girl’s face lit up with a radiant smile, drawing gasps from the crowd.

“You’re so clever. How did you think of this?” she asked her agent while signing.

The agent, a woman in her thirties dressed androgynously, smiled wryly. “What else could I do? If I didn’t step in, you’d have walked off the carpet already!”

“Can you ask him to slow down?” she whispered. The girl shook her head. The agent tried another tactic: “Then sign more autographs…”

The girl nodded quietly, reaching for another autograph book—only to be stopped by Lynch.

With an apologetic expression, he addressed the fans, real or fake: “Sorry, others are waiting. Please understand we can’t stay long.”

His gentle tone, clean smile, and handsome face made the fans hesitate but they lowered their hands.

The girl looked at her agent in despair, and her agent returned the same hopeless gaze. She watched as the girl took Lynch’s arm again and together they finished the red carpet faster than most.

As they entered the theater, Lynch glanced at the girl and whispered, “People like you not because there are more photos or articles about you in the papers, but because you do things worth liking. I’m pretty sure staying longer on the red carpet isn’t one of those things.”

The girl’s expression turned desperate. This bastard was unlike any man she had ever met—utterly lacking grace. But the blows weren’t over.

After signing the guestbook, Lynch added, “I noticed your handwriting is terrible. As a public figure, you need to set an example. It’s a responsibility.”

“Society watches you hoping you’ll bring something positive. That’s what you should show. You should practice your handwriting more—even if it’s just your signature.”

The softer lighting helped the girl hide her shame and embarrassment. She didn’t want to say anything—just wished this premiere would end quickly.

Next time, she vowed never to be Lynch’s companion again. This man was a lunatic.

Her agent and the agency secretly worried Lynch might take advantage of her. They nervously prepared her on how to handle harassment.

Some even suggested that if Lynch showed interest, maybe the girl should consider dating him—just holding hands.

They were about the same age, and even if it was doomed from the start, it could add depth to the girl’s public image.

But all these hopes were wishful thinking. The girl wanted to ask Lynch outright: Are you fucking gay or what?