Blackstone Code-Chapter 519: Accidents and Tomorrow

“Mr. Lynch!”
Standing at the top of the steps, Lynch looked down at the two young men he knew so well. Seeing their current appearance, he couldn’t help but laugh.
“You two seem to be doing well—Noel, Fern.” He came down the steps and gave each of them a hug, surprising them both.
Lynch rarely embraced people. He usually stuck to handshakes—hugs were a gesture of closeness, and not everyone warranted that. But the Green brothers were different. Technically, they were Lynch’s
sons
. When he took them in, he had to follow the federal adoption process, which only allowed for adopting children or the elderly—not younger siblings.
The federal legal system could be rigid. Initially, Lynch had hoped to be their sponsor or maybe just take them in as younger brothers. After all, it was his choice to assume that responsibility. The Social Services Bureau, however, insisted that if he wanted to take them out of the orphanage, he had to adopt them.
Under federal law and its interpretations, there were only two types of adoption: one, adopting children—which many couples who couldn’t have kids pursued—or two, adopting the elderly, either out of compassion or, in some cases, exploitation. Some people adopted terminally ill seniors to collect funeral subsidies and other benefits after their deaths. In many cases, these elderly individuals were quietly cremated and disposed of without a proper burial.
Such adoption schemes were akin to gambling—with high odds of payout. Welfare institutions weren’t always about charity and sunshine. Where there was profit, there were people, even if their hands got dirty in the process.
Leaving those issues aside, since federal law didn’t allow adoption of peers, Lynch had only two choices: either become these kids’ legal father, or legally be adopted by them. Age didn’t matter in this bureaucratic logic. And so, Lynch chose to be their legal guardian. That bond brought them closer.
Noel, the older brother, was dressed in a sharp suit with a red-and-beige plaid vest, a blue tie with a starlight pattern, and a long trench coat. His black fedora with a red ribbon made him look sharp, competent, and very Old Town.
Fern, the younger brother, was slightly shorter and wore a nearly identical outfit, though in a different palette—blue instead of red. His tie was red with a starlight pattern, opposite to Noel’s.
Their seven-point resemblance became a near match when dressed like this. More importantly, they carried themselves with confidence and clarity—they had clearly adapted to this life.
Lynch patted their arms. “How are things in the city lately?”
Noel nodded. “Everything’s fine. No major problems. We’ve got people watching things every day.”
Lynch was pleased with their sense of responsibility. While he was away, he relied on them to manage things. Richard was likely going to be sent to Gephra. If he loved money and wanted to strike out on his own, Lynch would give him that chance.
Vera was in charge of the company’s finances. But being a woman and a mother, and lacking a hard edge, she wasn’t suited to handle the tough crowd. Only the Green brothers were up to the task.
“I heard you’ve been getting into fights?” Lynch asked abruptly.
The brothers exchanged a glance. Noel decided to be honest—he knew nothing could be hidden from Lynch in this city.
“Yes, Mr. Lynch. Some people took our raw materials and equipment and sold them off. If we didn’t act, others would follow, and your business would suffer.”
Lynch nodded. “You did the right thing. I don’t blame you. But your methods are the problem. Let’s talk while we walk. It’s cold here.”
Fern grabbed Lynch’s briefcase and glanced at the sergeant trailing behind them, then quickly caught up.
“In the Federation, intentional injury is a serious crime. Even if the damage isn’t severe, juries won’t side with you. So you can’t deal with these people so directly.”
“But accidental physical collisions are different. Like, if you were running and
accidentally
slammed into someone…” Lynch pressed a spot on Noel’s waist, making him double over, breathless.
It was a move Lynch had learned in a special room—real pros didn’t throw punches at bone; they struck where it hurt, but with control.
“See? I barely used force. Remember this spot—if you hit someone there with your shoulder while running, there’s a good chance you’ll rupture their spleen. And you…”
Lynch shrugged. “You were just chasing someone and accidentally ran into a bystander. As for any charges, I’ll have lawyers handle it. But you must remember: we’re businessmen. We don’t break the law.”
Noel, still gasping and sweating from the sudden pain, straightened up as best he could. It still hurt to stand straight, but he nodded.
“Yes, I understand, Mr. Lynch.”
Lynch patted his shoulder. “Scientists say pain helps cement memories. I hope you remember this lesson.”
They had reached the roadside, still a ways from Ferrell. Lynch stopped and took the briefcase from Fern. He looked at the brothers.
“Let me say it again—we are businessmen. We don’t do illegal things. But accidents happen every day in this world.”
“Collisions during a chase, runaway cars, falling objects from above—accidents are everywhere. I have the resources to prove that an accident is just an accident. What I can’t do is distort right and wrong to make crime acceptable. Do you understand?”
The two boys nodded. “Yes, Mr. Lynch. We understand.”
“Good. I’ll have Vera allocate some company shares to you. It’s time you started building something of your own.” He paused to let them absorb that.
“I still have some personal matters to discuss with Mr. Ferrell. Thank you both for picking me up. You made me feel like I was home. We’ll talk again tomorrow or the next day.”
He opened his arms and hugged them once more before getting into the car by the curb.
As soon as he sat down and closed the car door, shutting out the cold, Lynch immediately felt much warmer.
The car had already started moving. Ferrell was driving himself, wearing a focused expression like a real chauffeur.
But he wasn’t a real chauffeur—and soon, he would become the mayor of this city.
“How’s the election going?” Lynch asked casually, removing his hat and gloves, which made him feel a bit bulky.
“Not too bad. Thanks to your help, we’re in a much better position than before. Even the governor is pleased—they think we have a real shot.”
Many of the businessmen Lynch hosted in the Magulana Province were from Sabin City. Once they resumed production there, the banks began easing their stance slightly. With Lynch’s backing, Golden Exchange was even willing to issue an extra round of startup credit loans. This indirectly improved the situation in Sabin and across the state.
In absolute ruin, further decline is barely noticeable—it’s all equally miserable. But even the slightest improvement becomes immediately apparent.
Because in a place like that, even a flicker of progress feels like light piercing the abyss.
The polls reflected this clearly. Victory wasn’t guaranteed, but winning wouldn’t be hard.
Lynch curled his lip slightly, then turned his attention to Ferrell. “And what about you?”