Blackstone Code-Chapter 531: Silent Nourishment

Mr. Jonathan finally met Lynch—his last hope.
When he entered the room, he noticed two large oil paintings on the wall of the reception area. He vaguely remembered seeing one of them at an art exhibition, where it was priced over two hundred thousand. But he only glanced briefly and then looked away—this was no time to appreciate art.
He sat in the spot Lynch indicated, legs together and acting as obedient as a boy scout away from his parents for the first time, watched by older kids.
Lynch glanced at the business card in his hand before returning it. “Our bank, Golden Exchange, has always maintained a good relationship with you in many fields. So, Mr. Jonathan, what brings you here?”
Jonathan hurriedly spoke his mind, “I heard that you’re buying some factories in Sabin City?”
Lynch frowned. “Who told you that? It’s not true.” He shook his head seriously, no hint of joking.
Jonathan was surprised and unsure how to respond. Had the bank’s special agent lied to him?
Thankfully, Lynch quickly eased the awkwardness. “I don’t currently plan to buy any factories, but it’s something I’m considering. You know, Nagaryll has been very profitable for us—it’s a growing market.”
“They’re paying for federal goods. If you own a factory, don’t rush to sell. Wait a bit longer—there may be a turnaround.”
Lynch’s words struck a chord in Jonathan. That’s exactly what he’d been thinking—but those damn vampire banks wanted to destroy him before dawn.
His expression was conflicted: gratitude for Lynch’s understanding, but hatred for the banks.
“I think so too. Whether the government acknowledges it or not, a lot of capital is flowing into Nagaryll. We won’t debate if it will feed back into our market, but that growing market will be the next boom.”
“But the bank is pressuring me to auction my assets. I heard you might be interested in some factories, so I took the liberty of visiting.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Lynch, for coming without understanding things fully. I was reckless. I’m ashamed. Please allow me to leave…”
Jonathan was desperate. If Lynch didn’t buy his factory, the bank would auction it off cheap. He knew their methods well—once he’d even benefited from these unspoken rules.
Houses sold for a few thousand, cars for hundreds, factories for maybe tens of thousands. Anyone at those auctions could make money—it was only a matter of how much.
He used to hold the knife and fork. Now, he was the cake on the plate. He was finished.
But Lynch didn’t let him leave immediately. “You seem to be in trouble, Mr. Jonathan.” He paused, recalling the name—it was so common it was easy to forget.
“Maybe I can offer some help, even if it’s just advice.”
“When I was in Nagaryll, I was cautious of the local clans. It reminded me that if we unite people with certain qualities, our enemies will fear us.”
Jonathan was completely hopeless and indifferent now. When Lynch asked, he didn’t care whether to answer or not.
“If I can’t raise the money soon to repay the bank, they’ll auction my factory. You know the amount won’t cover my debt!” His hands gripped tightly between his legs, fingers twitching out of sight. “I’m done, Mr. Lynch…”
Lynch smiled, stood up, and Jonathan thought he was seeing him off. He stood as well, but Lynch made a reassuring gesture. “Want a drink?”
Jonathan hesitated but felt tempted. He hadn’t had a drink in a long time, and even cheap alcohol was expensive to him now. His throat twitched with a memory. “Sure.”
Lynch quickly brought two glasses, one for each of them. “I understand your situation. Simply put, the bank wants to sell your hope while you still carry a huge debt, right?”
Jonathan nodded, eagerly drinking, then coughed harshly, apologized, and felt better.
Lynch poured more. “The bank’s approach is harsh…” He shook his head. “Which bank do you owe?”
“Golden Exchange.”
Jonathan just wanted to drink more free quality liquor—it might be the last time he tasted something so fine in his life.
“Wait a moment.” Lynch stood and said, “I have a good relationship with Golden Exchange’s executives. Maybe I can help.”
He walked aside and made a phone call.
At first, Jonathan listened closely, but soon he just kept drinking.
About ten minutes later, slightly drunk, Lynch returned to the sofa, shaking his head. “No good news.”
Jonathan forced a bitter smile. “Thank you for trying. That means a lot. I’ll figure out the rest myself.” He stood. “Thanks for the drink, Mr. Lynch. You’re a good man!”
He started to leave, the world seeming to shut its doors on him, when Lynch suddenly called out, “Maybe I can help…”
Jonathan turned to look.
“I can buy your business and give you enough to settle your bank debt…”
Jonathan shook his head. “I appreciate it, Mr. Lynch, but you don’t have to do that—it wouldn’t be fair to you.”
Lynch also stood, holding his glass. “You need patience, Jonathan. May I call you that?”
“Of course.”
“Listen, Jonathan, I’m a businessman too. I don’t make losing deals. Even if I’m helping you, I won’t let myself lose too much.”
Lynch’s sincerity gave Jonathan a glimpse of a real solution. He forced himself to calm down.
“I have a proposal. Whatever you owe the bank, I’ll pay that amount to buy your business. That sum goes directly to the bank, and the rest you owe me.”
Jonathan shook his head again. “Even if you kindly clear my debt, I may never earn enough to pay you back…”
Lynch raised his hand to stop him. “That’s the other part. We talked about Nagaryll’s growth…” Despite his drunkenness, Jonathan was clear-headed enough to nod.
“I’ll lend you extra. I believe no success comes by luck. God supports giving you another chance.”
“I’ll give you a ticket and a loan. You go develop in Nagaryll. When you make money, you repay me. How about that?”
“That way, you not only have the chance to prove wrong everyone who despises you and thinks you’re hopeless, but also show them how shallow they were. And prove to yourself that even if you fall, you can get back up.”
“If you succeed, I’ll gain a successful businessman friend, and our story will become a legend.”
“If you fail, at least we both tried. And you said your factory will make money someday, right?”
“Earning a little less to gain a friend, to witness a miracle—it’s worth it!”
Mr. Jonathan never thought he would cry, especially as an adult. He believed crying was a sign of weakness. But this time, he cried.
Tears poured out like a breaking flood from his tear glands. He said he was drunk and thinking of his deceased family, but in truth, he was simply releasing the storm of emotions inside him.
It wasn’t sadness or surprise—just pure release.
The morning had started fine, but the bank’s agent had kicked him into an abyss. He had hoped for help from Lynch but only sank deeper.
When he thought he was beyond saving, completely finished and had resigned himself to fate, Lynch reached out his hand—an essential hand. All Jonathan could do was cry and say the simplest, most heartfelt “thank you” for everything Lynch had done.
Lynch embraced Jonathan—older than himself and sobbing uncontrollably—while speaking words full of hope for a better future.
Once Jonathan calmed, he expressed his deepest gratitude.
After settling some details, Jonathan stood to leave. Lynch kindly gave him three hundred Sol—enough to buy a decent outfit and straighten himself up.
They agreed on a contract signing date. Lynch’s people then escorted the grateful Jonathan out.
Stepping outside Lynch’s villa, Jonathan suddenly felt the world brighten, free from the darkness and despair that had weighed on him.
He took a deep breath, ambition rekindled.
And he firmly believed one thing:
Mr. Lynch is a conscientious capitalist.