No matter what attitude the Federation and its businessmen, including the shareholders of the Nagaryll Joint Development Company, hold toward Nagaryll, it’s undeniable that their arrival has begun to inject some vitality into this once lifeless country.
It might seem incredible that a group of exploiters could actually revive a nation—they shouldn’t just be destroyers who bring only pain, right? So why are these exploiters able to breathe life into the country?
The answer is simple:
jobs
, or more precisely…
money
.
The power of money is unmatched. When any country talks about revitalizing its market, there are many concepts and policies discussed, but in the end, what truly matters is the influx of capital.
With the supply and demand in the market reactivated and people earning more, society naturally becomes more vibrant.
A richer material life awakens the source of a society’s vitality. Some might say money isn’t everything, but for society as a whole, money is indeed all-powerful.
Money can make a girl young enough to be your granddaughter nestle in your arms and whisper sweet words. It can help a grieving family member recover quickly. It can elevate an unknown politician to a promising candidate.
Money seems capable of anything, including providing strength to society itself.
Following Lynch’s recruitment, other Federation businessmen in various regions also began hiring. This change brought confusion—this country appeared to be awakening.
“Mr. Lynch, some things weren’t stolen by us…” The deputy manager explained some difficult issues to Lynch, like many people bringing items that didn’t belong to the camp.
Some even brought wild dogs, claiming they had stolen those too. Basically, anything they valued was being returned in hopes of securing a job.
After everything that happened, people around knew that Lynch from the Baylor Federation was a reasonable man with rules.
If you followed his logic and abided by his rules—and had some luck—you could get a valuable chance.
The deputy manager held two notebooks: one recorded the real thieves, the other listed those just trying their luck.
He was an honest man. After witnessing Lynch’s wealth, power, and status, he had to stay honest.
His discretion about Nail’s special identity also showed his intelligence.
Lynch skimmed the notebooks and tossed them back. “No need to separate records. Combine them. Send them all to the roadwork crew—you need workers, and these people can help.”
The deputy manager nodded. “What about wages?”
“Daily pay—1.2 Federal Sol worth of Valier. Also, tell them about our pay and promotion systems, plus a cheap lunch, nothing fancy.”
Lynch clarified to avoid misunderstanding: “Lunch costs about ten Valier. Nothing too good; otherwise, they’ll think you’re stupid or easy to bully. Be strict with them.”
The deputy manager carefully took notes, admiring Lynch’s understanding of the people. After a month here, he’d learned these Nagaryll locals were just as Lynch said.
If you treat them kindly, they don’t see it as friendliness—they see it as weakness.
This shift in mindset was strange, like the girls who initially didn’t dare approach the camp and only lingered nearby.
When some fool offered a soda, those girls dared to come closer, even step inside, and ask for other things.
Though their attitude wasn’t bad, this allowed the older deputy manager to understand a bit more.
He might be one of the few without
troubles.
After saying this, the deputy manager stayed put, hesitating. “Mr. Lynch, do we need to conduct an environmental assessment?”
Lynch circled a spot on the map—the cement plant, located near the city’s main road for easy transport, but not on the city’s outskirts.
The outskirts were slums, then wilderness; leaving the city zone caused complications. So the plant was within the city circle, just not close to downtown.
Federation rules require heavy-polluting plants like cement factories to conduct environmental assessments before construction, to evaluate impacts on the surroundings and residents.
In the Federation, capitalists use money and jobs to smooth these issues, sending lobbying teams door to door to explain the factory plans, the need for local workers, and the generous benefits.
They turn opponents into supporters; then groups like the environmental agency and NGOs handle the rest.
That’s the Federation way. But this is Nagaryll. The deputy manager wasn’t sure if an assessment was needed because cement plants produce far more dust than others, causing a spike in airborne particles within at least a one-kilometer radius once operating.
These dust particles contain varying amounts of metals harmful to human health, so cement plants are classified as heavy polluters in the Federation too.
“Of course, but don’t worry—we’ll use the most advanced dust removal and suppression equipment to ensure it won’t pose a big threat to nearby residents!” Lynch answered decisively, showing no hesitation.
This surprised the deputy manager. Capitalists shouldn’t be so humane for money, right?
He worried his thoughts might be disrespectful to Lynch, but that was his honest impression: pollution didn’t matter; as long as economic benefits and profits came, capitalists would even dump poison into water sources.
Lynch’s answer was less
mainstream
, which stunned him for a moment. Then he nodded. “Understood…”
After the deputy manager left, Lynch picked up an apple from the table, wiped it, and bit into it.
Tropical and temperate fruits differ greatly in taste and texture. The apple in his hand resembled an apple but wasn’t like those from the Federation.
Federation apples weren’t very juicy, making them less crisp—not exactly tough, but not crisp enough.
These apples were crisp, more fragrant, and flavorful.
With a crisp snap, juice flowed out as he bit down, barely applying pressure.
Nagaryll’s tropical climate and long coastline should support strong fruit sales, and indeed fruit exports are a major category generating good profits yearly.
But these profits belong to Nagaryll’s ruling class and the old Preyton Trading Company. Ordinary farmers’ fruit goes unsold, rotting on trees unless sold cheaply to local
fruit merchants.
Though called merchants, they hardly farm, so ordinary people rarely profit from fruit cultivation and may even lose money.
Plus, fruit takes a long time to mature and can’t be stored long after ripening, so most locals don’t bother growing fruit.
Nail, who had been silent nearby, finally asked cautiously after the deputy manager left, “Environmental protection and assessments cost a lot, right?”
Lynch nodded matter-of-factly. “Yes, quite a bit.”
Environmental assessment and environmental protection are two different things, but both require a significant amount of money. This puzzled Nail. He didn’t think Lynch was a conscientious capitalist, though, on second thought, Lynch hadn’t done anything truly bad. Still, that feeling lingered in Nail and many others.
That was why the deputy manager was so surprised when Lynch immediately agreed to handle these matters—
You don’t seem like a good guy, Lynch!
Nail touched his head, initially expecting stitches. After the doctor cleaned the wound, he said it was just over a centimeter long and didn’t require stitches—just a simple bandage.
If the bandage were changed to the common cloth colors of Nagaryll, Nail would look more local.
Perhaps touching the wound caused a slight sting, making Nail pull his hand back, then ask, “Why not put the factory outside the city limits? That way, if we skip environmental assessments and protections, wouldn’t we save a lot of money?”
Lynch tilted his head, curious, while Nail chuckled softly. “Just curious.”
Lynch figured Nail’s company would grow larger in the future. He couldn’t watch over him every moment, so he’d share and teach what he could now to prevent Nail from being taken advantage of later.
Business is like war. This wasn’t a joke. Despite Lynch’s good relationship with Mr. Wadrick and his family now, if an opportunity arose to take a piece of him—or vice versa—neither would hesitate.
At most, after such moves, they’d explain their reasons—it’s business.
Lynch finished the apple in a few bites, wiped his hands with a white towel, and said, “Because I’m not the one paying for it.”
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