Blackstone Code-Chapter 444: Corporate Culture

“I don’t really understand,” Asel admitted, feeling ashamed because his thinking always lagged behind Lynch’s—past, present, and future.

He didn’t quite get how Lynch planned to make everyone earn money together. Was he going to give the workers shares? 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

That was unnecessary. Among these people were indeed some unfortunate souls, but perhaps the unfairness they endured had also bred certain deep-rooted flaws.

They lied and cheated. Asel had already been deceived by several of his own people.

The first was a factory worker who privately told him his sister was sick and needed money for treatment, but he couldn’t afford the expensive medical bills and hoped kind-hearted Asel would help.

Back then, Asel was a good man, a soft-hearted one, who didn’t hesitate to give the worker five thousand Valier.

Five thousand Valier might not be much in the Federation, roughly forty Sol, but in Nagaryll, that was a fortune.

A few days later, the worker stopped mentioning it. When Asel kindly asked, the worker said his sister had been treated and was very grateful.

To ease the worker’s guilt, Asel changed clothes and secretly went to check if the sister had really recovered. Instead, he found she was working as a prostitute, and the money was used to pay off the worker’s gambling debts.

That discovery hurt Asel deeply, but he said nothing.

Then came the second, the third deception, until he became numb and indifferent toward the workers. He no longer knew who was honest and who was lying. He just didn’t want to be fooled.

So when Lynch said he wanted to make money together with everyone, Asel thought maybe the boss was too kind—he hadn’t yet seen the filth inside people’s hearts here.

Though this made Asel feel guilty toward his own people, it was the truth. From anger at first, to indifference now, it was a psychological transformation he had to go through.

Lynch didn’t know Asel had thought so much in such a short time. He nodded and said, “I’m only giving them a possibility, a chance, something tangible to try. Isn’t that what you wanted before?”

He looked at Asel, who lowered his head and looked away slightly. “Open to the first page from the back, and take a good look…”

Asel obeyed, flipping over the plan Lynch gave him. He froze when he saw a special table.

Surprised, he looked up at Lynch, who always casually revealed something that confused and amazed him.

It was a system—a method for hiring and paying workers.

Initially, it was a daily wage system. If a worker completed the required work in one day, the factory paid them for that day.

The pay wasn’t small, but compared to what came later, it seemed little.

After a hundred days of continuous daily wages with no incidents like incomplete work or losses, the worker’s rank could be promoted, entering the second-level salary system: weekly wages.

Paid once a week, the weekly salary roughly equaled the amount from ten days of daily wages.

Above that was a monthly salary system, which paid even more.

The monthly salary was about six times the weekly wage, roughly equivalent to sixty days of daily wages.

Monthly salary was the highest payment level, but workers could still advance in rank, up to level five.

A level five worker earned four to five times what a daily wage worker made monthly. Even Asel thought this salary was extraordinary—only a few in the Federation earned this much. ṝ𝒶𐌽Ŏ𝐁ĚŞ

It was about six hundred Sol, or seventy to eighty thousand Valier.

“That’s too much!” Asel exclaimed, putting down the table and looking at Lynch. “Too much. Mr. Lynch, I mean, we don’t need to pay them that much for them to work. With this money, we could hire many more people.”

“If you worry they’ll slack off or mess around, we can add a competitive mechanism to keep them alert. There’s no need to pay such high wages.”

Asel also worried that once workers got used to high pay, lowering it later would cause problems.

Lynch chuckled. “Asel, my friend, have you ever seen me do something foolish?”

Asel didn’t argue further. Trusting and even admiring Lynch blindly, he looked again at the document.

This time, he felt something new—perhaps there were things he didn’t understand. This might be Lynch’s magic.

Soon Asel left with his task: to promote the recruitment policy throughout the province and hire workers. To avoid past troubles, Lynch had a sergeant assign guards to protect Asel’s group.

Lynch had long considered the concerns Asel raised.

The best way to protect rights was with a legal document that stood firm anywhere.

With fairness, reason, and legality, even if Lynch pushed a little too far, no one would complain.

Anyone joining Lynch’s company would sign an agreement, starting from the lowest-level daily wage worker to the highest level, a process spanning fifteen years.

To advance from level three and beyond, workers must complete certain tasks, like promotions in some Federation role-playing games, requiring key items.

Here, those included meeting professional standards recognized by the Federation—becoming senior technicians—and accepting company assignments, such as working abroad.

Some tasks were easy, like foreign assignments, but others, like professional upgrades, weren’t just about money—they also required connections.

If someone stuck around for fifteen years, even if Lynch or management was occasionally harsh, they would endure. They wouldn’t dare cause trouble.

Lynch offered both care and discipline. Level two and above workers—those on weekly or monthly pay—if they made mistakes, would be demoted back to daily wages.

No matter how much they had contributed, if the company deemed their mistakes unforgivable, they’d lose everything.

This was an effective system with a filtering mechanism. Increasing pay cycles weeded out those who could only handle a little, shaping workers into obedient, dependable people.

Once someone invested so much time and hope into this, they wouldn’t leave.

A hundred days was enough to screen for those willing to work hard and endure. Some might sneak into the weekly pay level at first, but the system would eventually assimilate them into honest workers.

As long as they obeyed, they’d make money with the company.

Unthinkably high wages, opportunities to work abroad, and even overseas allowances—this was paradise.

Life’s changes began to enter the next phase. This was probably what people called corporate culture.

The next morning, just before ten, Lynch was already waiting in the reception hall.

The Magulana Governor certainly knew how to enjoy life. Nestled in dense woods was a palace-like complex, with a grand, open design.

Lynch sat on a wooden rattan chair, cushioned for comfort. Around him, tropical trees swayed gently in the breeze, their leaves rustling softly.

The heat waves filtered through layers of trees and shade, cooling the air by the time it reached the large pavilion-like room, making it pleasantly comfortable.

Those tropical trees served not just as decoration but to cool the hot wind.

A few minutes later, Mr. Simon arrived with his wife and children to visit Lynch.

From the start, Simon didn’t treat this visit as a formal business probe. It felt more like a local foreign merchant extending goodwill to a new neighbor.

There was little practical motive, which explained why he insisted on bringing his family.

Having family around made the meeting less formal.

This was Lynch’s second meeting with Simon, but it was different from the first. Previously, Simon had come with a mission: hoping Lynch would sensibly join the Preyton Trading Company if he wanted to do business locally.

Given the circumstances then, that might have been the best route—joining the trading company, getting quotas, receiving support when needed, and securing stable annual profits.

Perhaps because Preyton misjudged Lynch, a few months later the so-called Mr. Preyton fled and was rumored to still be on the run, struggling.

Simon’s unease was understandable. It was likely why he brought his family—to maintain face, so Lynch wouldn’t treat him harshly.

“Mr. Lynch, good to see you again,” Simon said, clasping his hands together in a local religious blessing gesture. His attire was fully local.

If not for his paler skin, slightly yellowed hair, and light green eyes, his style made him indistinguishable from locals.

This was Simon’s method, like many foreign merchants integrating here.

Marry one or several locals, have children, dress in traditional local clothing, and adopt local blessing customs—even those locals rarely practiced.