Blackstone Code-Chapter 446: Compassion

What Lynch said was not gentle; it made Mr. Simon uncomfortable. He had run unchallenged businesses for so long, he had forgotten what real competition felt like.

Yet, it was precisely Lynch’s bluntness that eased much of Simon’s tension. Perhaps things wouldn’t be as perfectly fair as Lynch claimed, but even if there were differences, Simon felt they wouldn’t be significant.

Over the years, Simon had built extensive connections locally. During Preyton Trading’s monopoly, sales channels in Nagaryll were firmly in the hands of people like him. Only they had goods to sell; anyone wanting better products had to come to him. His sales network was well established.

Even if competition grew tougher, as long as he kept prices within what people would accept, customers wouldn’t easily abandon him. It was obvious—people tend to cling to the familiar. Before obvious differences appear, they might try new things but ultimately return to the old.

“There’s one more thing, Mr. Lynch,” Simon said, smiling slightly. “If I want to invest in the Nagaryll Joint Development Company…”

His tone was tentative, almost humble. The woman kneeling quietly glanced at her husband before bowing her head again.

This was the first time she saw Simon display such humility outside of Mr. Preyton’s presence. Most wouldn’t notice, but she could feel it—a proud man, who wouldn’t even show this before the provincial governor, now laying aside his pride.

It unsettled her. She didn’t fully understand the shifting situation in Nagaryll, only that something was clearly changing.

Lynch shook his head. “That won’t work. It’s not that I won’t let you invest—you know, the company has some big players. I only hold three percent.”

He stubbed out his nearly finished cigarette. The woman quickly held the ashtray toward him, accustomed to serving others this way.

Lynch didn’t say thank you. He had heard that when Asel thanked his brother’s wife, the whole family thought she was flirting with him and that they had spent the night together. He didn’t want Simon to keep this woman, so he didn’t even glance her way.

Leaning back in the rattan chair, Lynch lightly stroked the armrest. The once-soft rattan had been treated to be both firm and resilient, coated with a varnish-like finish to resist the environment. It felt comfortable, never rough.

“I understand your concerns. You don’t need to worry like that. Forgive my unintended offense, but even if the company allowed you to buy shares, you couldn’t afford much.”

Lynch gave a faint, ironic smile. “One percent of shares costs ten million Federation Sols.”

Simon gasped. Over the years, he’d saved three to four million in profits, some sent back home. The rest was still a lot. That’s why he said losing this business would leave him with nowhere to turn. Once Lynch and the Federation merchants started clearing out the old foreign traders here, just banning people from buying their assets would trouble them for a long time.

His expression was strange—muscles twitching, eyelids flickering—as if the large number Lynch mentioned had scared him.

One percent was ten million. One hundred percent was one billion Federation Sols.

But the blow wasn’t over. Lynch wasn’t shy about continuing with frightening details.

“That’s just our initial fundraising price. The current price has risen much higher, like I said earlier.”

“We’re not against you joining the Joint Development Company. It’s purely because our starting price is high.” He smiled apologetically. “Sorry, no offense meant.”

His words sounded like disdain toward Simon, so he apologized for that.

“No, it’s fine. No need to apologize, Mr. Lynch. I understand…” Simon waved his hands. “You’re right. Even if I put everything I have in, I couldn’t afford even one percent—let alone 0.1 percent.”

Simon was nearly clear on the situation. After monopolizing the market here for so many years, he roughly understood.

The market value of Nagaryll Joint Development Company was about equal to the medium-term revenue the company could generate here.

Before, the loose monopoly group was enough for Simon to make hundreds of thousands a year. But Nagaryll itself?

A country earning tens of millions yearly only pushed the stock price higher and higher, eventually beyond reach.

He couldn’t keep up now, and he didn’t need to dream of catching up later.

His gaze toward Lynch was mixed—wistful, lost, and a little confused.

Lynch was young, despite his old-fashioned appearance. Yet he still gave off a youthful aura.

This young man could already put up thirty million to buy shares in the Joint Development Company, while Simon—the so-called Mr. Simon—worried over small amounts of money. Ꞧ𝓪𐌽Ɵ𝐁Еs

That was the gap. The gap brought envy, jealousy, loss, and confusion.

Simon asked other questions, like about sourcing goods.

Before, foreign traders got goods through Preyton Trading, which delivered according to quotas. They sold whatever was sent.

Because of the monopoly, they never worried about unsold stock. Even the provincial governor was one of Simon’s customers.

Now, he could get goods directly from the Joint Development Company’s distributors—whatever he wanted, without many restrictions, even on price.

Everything seemed to be changing for the better in ways Simon hadn’t considered. The conversation made him feel relieved.

After chatting about local anecdotes, Simon invited Lynch to visit his home. Then, with his wife and child, he left.

Standing in the yard watching a distant car, Lynch shook his head and looked away.

These merchants couldn’t all be let go. They colluded with Preyton Trading, exploiting a monopoly to bleed the Nagaryll people dry.

It wasn’t just exploitation—they’d wrecked the market. If anyone reviewed records or asked elders about the time before Preyton Trading existed, they’d see Nagaryll’s commerce wasn’t always this bad.

Limited but free trade once made the whole country’s commerce thrive. People exchanged surplus goods for money or what they needed.

A rich variety of market goods sparked demand, and people dreamed of earning money to improve their lives. That period was almost the peak of Nagaryll’s recent development.

If it weren’t for Preyton Trading’s interference, things might be better now.

But monopoly and corruption destroyed that. The market kept shrinking, currency circulation tightened—these people were the root cause.

They’ve sucked the lifeblood dry, and leaving won’t be easy.

Lynch had already decided: if Mr. Simon wanted to leave safely, avoiding storms at sea, pirate remnants, or greedy crew, he’d better return what he had taken.

Of course, dumping such a large sum into the region at once wouldn’t do much good. So Lynch reluctantly planned to set up some foundation to hold these illicit gains on behalf of the people of Nagaryll.

I’m really noble as hell!

As Lynch turned, the sergeant approached.

“Boss, everything’s arranged!”

Lynch nodded. “Let’s eat first. After lunch, we’ll leave.”

There was no conversation during lunch.

Around one in the afternoon, three high-clearance vehicles arrived—more like business SUVs or off-road trucks.

Their chassis sat much higher than normal cars, with exaggerated suspension. Only locals would drive such vehicles.

The city center roads were rough mud paths—okay on dry days, but in rain, shallow-looking puddles often hid huge pits.

Rain loosened the soil, so road conditions were always poor. Almost every vehicle in Nagaryll needed modification to travel properly.

Along with the cars, a small truck loaded with goods arrived.

The convoy drew curious glances from locals, some of whom casually followed along.

Because of the roads and environment, the vehicles moved slowly.

Following the crowd, the convoy entered a local orphanage. The mood among the followers seemed to shift.

Nagaryll had orphanages but no nursing homes. There had been some before, but more families abandoned elders in nursing homes, which gradually closed.

That didn’t stop families from abandoning their elders—they simply pushed them onto the streets instead.

But Nagaryll had orphanages; children represented hope. Even in a backward place like this, people understood that.

The government provided some annual funding to orphanages, though the amount was small and barely enough to maintain them.

Today, Lynch came to give back to society. Many local reporters were present, eager to witness this historic moment.

After the vehicles stopped, Lynch stepped down with a heavy expression. Looking at the roughly fifty or sixty children in the yard, seeing the fear in their eyes, his expression grew even more solemn.