Blackstone Code-Chapter 457: Another Kind of Sweetness

“The banking system is made up of very pragmatic people forming a very real group, whose purpose is to legally seize all your assets!”

Standing at the harbor, Lynch shared some of his insights with Nail. “Think about it: when your factory is rapidly expanding, even if you don’t need a loan to complete a stage of development, the bank will come knocking.”

“Their account managers will tell you they can help you get a low-interest loan and connect you to influential contacts, offering a more professional and grand development plan.”

“If you take that loan, and your company and factory grow without problems, both sides will act as if it never happened—except that a small monthly interest payment will be deducted from your account.”

“But the moment your profits decline and things go wrong, they’ll send lawyers’ letters, telling you there are no more options left.”

“Remember this, Nail: if you can’t handle the bank and money, don’t even bother applying for a loan.”

“Banks don’t give you money to save you—they push you into the abyss.”

Nail listened, confused. He couldn’t fully grasp it yet because in his experience, he hadn’t encountered such ‘advanced’ levels of society.

Instinctively, he asked, “What if my company isn’t profitable from the start?”

Lynch smiled knowingly. “Then you won’t even get through the bank’s door.”

This wasn’t a joke or exaggeration—it was fact.

For example, the federal government recently started personal credit loans without any collateral. Based only on past lifestyle data, bank statements, and current assets, one could get a loan.

Unlike before, where collateral was always required, now it isn’t.

But there’s something many overlook: banks actively encourage those with good records and large deposits to apply for low-interest personal credit loans—no collateral needed, just a signature on the contract.

They even have a call center to contact eligible clients, urging them to take the loan.

Meanwhile, poor people who truly need the money are denied by countless excuses from the bank tellers.

The reason isn’t complicated: lending to the wealthy and reliable clients ensures steady profits. If they falter financially, the bank quickly initiates collection procedures.

They pressure for payment, sue if necessary, then acquire assets like cars or houses at rock-bottom prices through third parties.

These assets are then sold again by other firms, turning into cash, which after sharing profits along the chain, ends up safely in the bank’s vault.

The bank lends out 10,000 units of currency, earns 10-30% profit, and eventually recovers collateral worth multiple times that amount. That’s why they aggressively want to lend to the wealthy.

Most people may not have issues, but if even one defaults, the bank profits enormously.

The larger the scale, the higher the bank’s profit.

But what about the poor?

No, sir—poor people can’t repay loans, and even lawsuits can’t recover the money. Lending to the poor is the biggest failure of federal bankers and practitioners.

Though bankers hold the title, they are ultimately capitalists whose goals are wealth, profit, and high returns.

As the distant cruise ship approached, a growing sense of pressure crept in. People who had never seen such a massive ocean liner couldn’t comprehend the visual shock of a house-sized vessel floating on the sea.

Docking took a long time. Lynch then met Mr. George, his greeter at the port.

Other bank officials also came over to greet Lynch.

There was no avoiding Lynch in business here—not because Lynch had more economic power than the banks, but because his political influence in this country surpassed theirs. RÄΝ𝐨ВËš

This is one reason capitalists promote prioritizing the economy: when political influence outweighs wealth, capitalists fear politicians could redistribute wealth taken from the people at any time.

Only when wealth surpasses political influence is their fortune relatively safe.

Only in a federation where elections are essentially endorsements for capitalists and capitalists’ interests is capital absolutely secure.

Nagaryll clearly hasn’t reached this stage yet. In this backward, traditional, and superstitious society, the intertwining of political and religious power makes it hard for wealth to dominate society. But now, outsiders have come, bringing eager eyes and expectations from across the ocean.

“I’m glad to see you all here, though it seems you need some time to adjust…” Lynch waved his hand, prompting staff to hand out fragrant handkerchiefs to the bank clerks.

This helped a lot. Even George took a handkerchief to cover his nose and mouth, complaining, “No one ever warned me it would smell this bad here—like…”

“Like…” He frowned, searching for words.

Someone else chimed in, “Like driving through the streets of the Lower District without rolling up the car windows!”

“Exactly, that’s it—terrible!” George agreed immediately, and everyone burst out laughing.

As the upper class, joking about the Lower District and its residents had become a habit of their social class.

To them, the Lower District was a filthy place where anything bad was expected.

After all, who lives there?

Skilled women, thieves, criminals—everything filthy and vile, and the poorest people.

These places no longer went by the old name Lower District. Some even had decent-sounding names like King’s District.

The joke landed well, but George asked curiously, “Mr. Lynch, don’t you find the smell awful here?”

“Smell?” Lynch smiled. “A scientist once told me that the human brain can block out smells. When you don’t get used to a smell, soon it has no effect on you.”

“So you can’t smell the stench here?” George asked with interest.

Lynch nodded. “I really don’t smell it now.”

“That’s amazing…”

Lynch invited everyone to visit the provincial governor’s home. They gladly accepted since building good relations with the local governor was essential for their business.

As they rode in a governor’s car, they saw police fiercely beating and driving away citizens from the front of the motorcade.

Inside a modified bus, the gentlemen from the civilized world couldn’t help but exclaim.

Too barbaric, too inhumane—the words flowed naturally from their mouths. But Lynch saw only satisfaction on their faces—a longing for power.

Privilege is always a tool for winning people over; it never fails.

When they arrived at the provincial governor’s residence, a grand welcome ceremony was already prepared. After crossing the long, dilapidated, rugged, and trash-strewn road, the world-renowned bank presidents entered the palace-like building, overwhelmed and momentarily unable to think clearly.

A single gate divided this place, creating two separate worlds.

The scent from petals scattered on the ground nearly masked the lingering foul odors. A cool breeze blew, and time seemed to slow down in that moment.

Local women dressed in Nagaryll-style clothing danced gracefully around them. Traditional instruments played, and the scent of incense smoke mingled with the aura of power filling the air.

Taking a deep breath, there was no sense of backwardness—only the sweet fragrance of supreme authority.

“I think I’m beginning to like it here,” one bank president laughed.

After some casual conversation, Lynch and George found a quiet corner where no one disturbed them, as everyone knew they needed privacy.

“I’m about to build a cement plant. I need to conduct environmental assessments and dust control. Do you have the right contacts?” George asked.

Lynch looked at him. George paused briefly, then smiled. “You don’t need to worry about that. Thanks to you, I’m already a bank president.”

He knew Lynch wasn’t really asking because he couldn’t find someone—just a quick call to Mr. Patric or Mr. Wadrick would arrange everything perfectly.

These might seem like small matters, but for any company involved, having international certification and qualifications for such assessments greatly boosts their brand image.

Though Lynch could have handled it himself, he asked George, making clear the intention was to offer a favor.

Frankly, George was now somewhat afraid to take Lynch’s money because their relative positions had shifted drastically.

Lynch, unchanged from before, patted George on the shoulder. “I’m not stingy, especially to those who’ve helped me. You deserve this.”