Blackstone Code-Chapter 522: Worth the Value

After leaving City Hall, Lynch’s next stop was to drop by his company. He’d been busy traveling abroad recently and hadn’t had time to visit.
Outsiders assumed that with Lynch’s vast business empire, his headquarters would be grand—several floors with thousands of square meters of office space, bustling with salespeople and managers, like during the best days of Eminence.
In reality, it wasn’t so extravagant. To some, Lynch’s headquarters even seemed modest.
It lacked multiple floors and sprawling offices; the entire workspace was under a thousand square meters. If it weren’t for Lynch’s name on the company registration, many wouldn’t recognize it as his.
Unlike a typical corporate headquarters, it resembled more of an accounting firm. That was the key—Lynch had very few employees, relying mostly on a large network of partners.
With so few staff, he didn’t need much space for departments or complicated HR structures. There was no need to provide extensive office facilities.
He delegated all tasks to partners, only personally handling finances—dividends, payments, and tracking every transaction. This Interstellar Trading Company headquarters lacked any flashy or thrilling atmosphere.
When Lynch entered, the receptionist—a young woman—stood up with a mixture of surprise, delight, and hesitation. She wanted to say something but feared she might get it wrong.
It had been a long time; some employees had only met Lynch a few times. His sudden appearance surprised them, especially since everyone knew he was busy expanding business in Nagaryll.
Lynch smiled at her. That familiar, genuine smile immediately convinced the receptionist it was indeed the boss. Some things can’t be faked—like Lynch’s clean, transparent smile.
“Mr. Lynch…” she stammered, excited yet shy.
She had imagined countless scenarios of meeting Lynch—tender, commanding, unreasonable, touching—even fantasizing that every morning Lynch would see her first at work, leading to a quick romance and a happy marriage.
Caught in her daydreams, she didn’t know how to start speaking. Lynch simply said, “Don’t worry about me,” and walked past her into the office.
She lingered, still smelling the scent Lynch left in the air, thinking he was flawless—even his lingering scent was vivid and pleasant.
Inside the office, Vera rubbed her forehead tiredly. The company had grown more than tenfold since the beginning, and the workload was overwhelming. It reminded her of how tired Gap looked every day when he came home before everything went wrong.
Her exhaustion wasn’t physical but mental. She’d even started using a ruler to help read every line of numbers correctly—something she never expected to need at her age, but now understood.
The ledger’s dense numbers required constant focus. Even a brief distraction—thinking about a change, glancing at a cup, or suddenly remembering something—could lead to mistakes.
A small lapse might waste minutes, hours, or even a whole day’s work, resulting in errors that were hard to trace without redoing everything.
Using a ruler made it easier to follow numbers precisely. Even if distracted briefly, she could quickly catch up without misreading.
Her previous tasks were simpler; now the work was complex and detailed. She delegated many specifics to others and focused on final reviews—work overlapping significantly with what Gap once handled.
This responsibility was stressful. If the numbers were wrong, the company wouldn’t blame junior accountants but the final reviewer.
Tracking local, state, and international figures overwhelmed Vera’s mind.
Just then, the office door opened. Without looking up, she frowned slightly and said, “I told you to knock before entering, and don’t come in unless it’s urgent…”
She wore a stern expression to warn the secretary, who often overstepped boundaries thinking they were close.
Her professionalism had eroded since managing Lynch’s finances and office environment, and her usual politeness gave way to occasional cursing to relieve frustration.
As she prepared to say something intimidating, she noticed a pair of men’s shoes at the door. Surprised and pleased, she looked up—it was Lynch.
“What are you doing here?” Her cold expression melted into a smile, and she stood with delight. “I didn’t hear you were back!”
Lynch shrugged. “I’m not the president or a celebrity; ers don’t care where or when I go.”
He turned naturally. Vera helped him remove his heavy coat and hung it by the door.
It was late December, still cold in the Federation. Sabin City wouldn’t warm up until late January, so people wore heavy clothes.
With his coat off, Lynch looked much lighter. Vera went to a small bar area and asked, “Want something? Hot coffee or milk?”
Previously a part-time housewife, Vera enjoyed cooking and treats. She’d set up this little spot in the office—not to showcase skills but for self-service drinks without needing a secretary or seeing others’ faces.
“Coffee, please.”
Soon Vera returned with a cup of authentic Federation coffee, a small saucer, fresh milk, and three sugar cubes arranged neatly—two on the bottom and one on top.
“I don’t know if you like it this way. If it’s not sweet enough, you can add more.”
“Thanks!” Lynch took a small sip. It was slightly bitter—not pure Federation coffee, which usually had more milk and sugar to mask bitterness, leaving only aroma and sweetness.
The bitter taste was captivating—it faded into a rich aroma, unlike sugar’s quick, sharp pleasure. The bitterness, aftertaste, and aroma were slower, gentler, and more intoxicating.
“This is excellent coffee. If you opened a café, it’d be the best in the Federation.”
Vera smiled modestly. “I know myself; it’s not that good.”
Lynch placed his hand gently on hers. “You looked troubled when I came in.”
Her warm touch surprised Vera. She stammered, “What? No… well, yes, but it’s just minor issues.”
“You can delegate this work. Remember what I told you before?” Lynch held her hand naturally. “You’re a department head and my partner. You should learn to exploit others’ labor to meet our needs—not to oppress or exploit ourselves.”
“A capitalist’s partner is also a capitalist—you should understand that.”
Vera sensed a deeper meaning in Lynch’s words, such as pushing her to become a partner in the company. She hesitated and explained, “There are some things I feel uneasy about if I don’t check them personally. I always worry they might make mistakes with key data…”
“Then hire more people,” Lynch said firmly, never letting go of her hand. “Create a department dedicated solely to auditing, or even two departments—independent teams that supervise and cooperate with each other.”
“Listen, I’m not really concerned about possible errors in the numbers. I put you in this position not because of your technical skills, but because I trust you. That’s more important than fluctuations in figures. Do you understand?”
“Have confidence in yourself, and inspire confidence in others. No one would deliberately sabotage their own work.”