Blackstone Code-Chapter 393: The Lecture Invitation and Expansion

“A lecture?”

Katherine was surprised as she looked at the university’s vice president. Just moments ago, she had been called into his office alone, where he brought up the matter.

The president of Kurland State University gave off an imposing air. His neatly groomed gray hair was so precisely styled that even a magnifying glass wouldn’t find a single strand out of place. He frequently appeared in administrative meetings and official events, and always seemed unapproachable.

This was quite unlike the university’s chancellor, who was a smiling, amiable old man, friendly and easy to talk to.

The two were total opposites. Students generally wished the chancellor would pay more attention to their academic life rather than leaving it all to the vice president.

Unfortunately, the chancellor didn’t involve himself in internal affairs, leaving those duties to the vice president, who held a unique place in the student body as a result.

But at that moment, the vice president had none of his usual sternness. It was the first time Katherine had seen him smile, and he looked like a kind elderly man. She couldn’t imagine how he managed to keep a straight face every day.

“Yes, Katherine,” he said. “I heard you’re Mr. Lynch’s girlfriend…”

Kurland State University, unlike some high schools, didn’t prohibit or restrict romantic relationships. In fact, many high schools had stopped doing so.

In a country where people could marry at sixteen, weren’t legal adults until twenty, but could have children at eighteen and prided itself on freedom, meddling in personal relationships was considered rude.

Schools advised students not to get involved romantically, to use protection, and to avoid having children while studying—but that was the extent of it. They wouldn’t interfere.

Kurland was the same. They didn’t support it, nor did they oppose it. Students at this level usually came from families with means, so warnings meant for average households had little relevance here.

Lynch had visited a few times. The last time, he had been seen with Katherine and some classmates, which sparked rumors about their relationship. At first, Katherine tried to explain, but the more she did, the more questions she got.

Like—if they weren’t together, why would he visit her?

Everyone knew the idea that exes could stay friends was wishful thinking. More often, they ended up as enemies. So, Katherine eventually gave up trying to explain.

Now, faced with the vice president’s question, she reluctantly clarified, “We’re exes. We’ve broken up.”

The vice president nodded. “Yes, I understand. But that doesn’t matter. Could you invite Mr. Lynch to give a public lecture at our university?”

He added, “We can offer him an honorarium—standard professor rates—and even award him an honorary professorship. I’m sure this would be a unique honor for Mr. Lynch.”

The Federation hadn’t completed its educational reforms yet. Even public universities were still far out of reach for ordinary people.

At this time, the easiest way to measure an academic expert’s credibility was to see if they had their own project at a university or were a teaching professor. The former indicated a solid foundation—no university would fund someone incapable. The latter meant they were competent enough to at least introduce students to a field.

An honorary title for Lynch, no matter the field, would signify academic recognition. While such honors meant little to major capitalists, they might be attractive to someone still in the process of building influence—like Lynch.

Katherine looked hesitant. “I don’t know if he’d be interested.”

“You could at least ask him. This isn’t just my idea; the chancellor is also very eager to have Lynch visit,” the vice president said, appealing to Katherine with the weight of the more beloved chancellor’s opinion. Then, he brought up another matter.

“You’re still working on the miniaturization of radio equipment, right?”

Katherine had been admitted to Kurland without needing to take the entrance exam, thanks to a strong recommendation from her high school and Lynch’s generous donation that funded a research project—one that required her inclusion.

This allowed her to join the university without any trouble and be selected as a freshman to join the project team, making her something of a legend among students. The administration, however, knew the real reason: the funding.

Although she couldn’t contribute much to the technical side and was often just observing, her involvement still boosted her profile.

When Katherine nodded in confirmation, the vice president smiled even more. “I’ll speak with the project advisor. From now on, you’ll be listed as a co-author on the papers we publish.”

Katherine was taken aback. The team had over ten members, but when results were published, only three to five names would appear as authors. This promise was a major step forward, effectively opening the door to the academic world.

It would become valuable capital for her future—whether advancing in academia or entering the job market, these credentials carried weight.

But Katherine quickly regained her composure. “Convincing me doesn’t mean anything. I can’t influence Lynch’s decisions. But I’ll pass on your request.”

Lynch wasn’t someone easily swayed—by anyone, including himself. Katherine wisely offered no guarantees or predictions. She truly didn’t know if he would accept.

The vice president nodded. “Just passing the message is enough.”

Lynch’s recent public commentary had resonated with mainstream Federation opinions. Combined with the recent naval victory, his theories were increasingly seen as feasible.

Even the government had set up an office to research Lynch’s proposals. In broader society, his ideas—like trade wars and financial warfare—were hot topics in salons and forums.

If the university could bring him in for a lecture and have the media cover it, they could raise the school’s profile—or even gain access to larger research projects, more funding, and private donations.

To achieve this, they only needed to ask Katherine.

If they did nothing, they gained nothing.

But if they tried, they might just secure a bright future. The vice president was taking a risk.

That evening, Katherine called Lynch and explained the situation. “…I don’t know what you’ll decide, but please don’t let me be a factor. Whether you come or not should depend on what the university is offering and whether it’s worthwhile for you.”

Lynch didn’t hesitate for long. He agreed.

Even if Katherine hadn’t brought it up, Lynch was planning to return soon anyway—to recruit more veterans through Ferrell’s father-in-law.

Blackstone Security currently had about a hundred personnel. While that might sound like a lot, in reality, it wasn’t nearly enough to carry out even a small-scale military operation. Lynch also intended to contract security responsibilities in parts of the Amellia region, which was a crucial component in maintaining peace between the Federation and Gephra.

The Federation would help stabilize the Amellia region, but in return, starting from that day, Gephran warships were no longer allowed to cross the Erperil Strait without the Federation’s permission. Otherwise, they risked being treated as pirates and eliminated.

In some ways, this was humiliating for Gephra. Yet at the same time, they were pleased. Someone else was solving a problem they couldn’t manage on their own, and they didn’t have to shoulder any of the blame. The contractors were from the Federation.

If the people of Amellia had complaints, they would direct their anger at the contractors, not at the Gephrans.

With the Federation playing the villain and the Gephran governor maintaining a kindly image, the Gephran emperor and his ministers believed that as long as the Federation truly put in the effort, the situation would be resolved quickly.

As long as Gephra’s interests in Amellia weren’t harmed, any current losses or humiliations could be repaid tenfold or a hundredfold in the future.

But all of this hinged on one condition: Amellia had to remain stable.

To that end, Lynch planned to increase Blackstone Security’s personnel from around one hundred to at least five hundred. He also reached a certain agreement with the Ministry of Defense.

If he staffed the company exclusively with veterans, the Ministry would ease certain oversight requirements.

The reasoning was simple. The Ministry trusted that these veterans would be more loyal to the nation than to any individual—especially since the government would also place a few undercover agents to reinforce that sense of duty and patriotism.

Ordinary employees were required to undergo at least one psychological evaluation and various tests each year. Even setting aside the cost, the time and effort alone were burdensome. But if all field personnel were veterans, such requirements could be waived.

In truth, Lynch didn’t care who he hired. What mattered was what he could offer them, and what they could offer him in return. That was the key.