Blackstone Code-Chapter 546: The Less You Have, The More You Want

In front of the TV, a well-dressed, refined gentleman watched the tense exchange between Lynch and Ora with a hint of displeasure.
He picked up the phone beside him, dialed a number, and after a moment said into the receiver, “Have them change the topic. She’s offended so many people already. This time, have her behave like a normal host and ask some reasonable questions…”
He hung up and continued watching the TV.
The phone was right next to him, on the edge of the sofa. In most households, phones aren’t placed on the sofa’s edge because it’s not an appropriate spot.
For example, if the homeowner is entertaining guests and a sensitive call comes in, avoiding the call might make guests feel the relationship isn’t close enough if you have to dodge a phone call.
If the call is sensitive, guests might suspect it concerns them—maybe someone is gossiping or worse.
Not avoiding the call either is problematic—private conversations shouldn’t be exposed to unrelated people, and having a third party on the call is an unpleasant experience for the caller and receiver.
Thus, most households—excluding ordinary ones who might place phones near the sofa just to show off—install phones in more private spots like a corner away from the common area or a separate room.
The house’s décor shows the owner is not poor. Flames burned in a fireplace beside the sofa, and above it hung a mounted stag head with impressive antlers that often startled some ladies.
Other walls displayed heads of bears, lions, and other animals, lifelike and well preserved—not to mention the expense of hunting and mounting these trophies.
On another wall, several paintings worth tens of thousands hung, proving this wasn’t an ordinary home. The owner should not have made the simple mistake of placing the phone by the sofa.
But he did, because his work was so busy he needed to answer calls anytime, anywhere.
This man was a congressman, holding a seat on the Appropriations Committee.
In the federal system, the Appropriations Committee is one of the eight standing committees, a powerful body responsible for non-military budget allocations, wielding significant influence.
This elderly man was a member with strong social connections.
The TV program showed the host named Ora—his daughter.
No matter how busy he was, he made time to watch her show, showing his concern for his family.
Only they truly knew the full story.
He continued eating, grabbing roasted meat with his greasy hands, far from the image of a dignified figure.
His eyes glinted, seemingly recalling memories.
Not only he was lost in thought—Ora on the screen also seemed troubled by unpleasant memories.
Lynch’s words stirred her deeply, taking her back years.
When the show’s director warned Lynch that Ora was difficult and prone to provoking guests, Lynch took time to call the Security Committee.
He was now a special advisor there, authorized to access confidential files below the highest classification—not open to the public.
Federal secrecy and declassification only applied to government insiders; only those with special clearance could access even these lower-level confidential documents.
Fully classified files required even higher clearance, often reserved for the president.
Soon, Lynch obtained some basic information connected to Ora. More personal details about her or her family were off-limits.
Not because Lynch lacked the clearance, but federal law prohibits investigations into public officials during their tenure—including congressmen—to prevent political factions from abusing state agencies for personal attacks.
While this law avoided many conflicts, it also created other problems.
That’s why Lynch knew Ora’s father was a congressman but couldn’t access her or her family’s private files without approval.
However, the Security Committee gave Lynch some extra intel: Ora’s uncle had been sentenced to a heavy prison term for violating federal law.
Federal laws can be ambiguous, often twisted by lawyers, but some matters—like protecting children and women—are enforced decisively.
After analyzing these facts and her behavior, Lynch reached some disturbing conclusions.
When Lynch proposed his hypothesis, Ora fell into memories.
Life is rarely perfect. God may grant wealth others lack but take away health; give strength but forget to provide happiness.
No one’s life is without flaws.
Ora’s childhood wasn’t happy, but thankfully those dark, terrifying times were in the past. She had escaped those shadows.
After all the chaos over the years, she almost forgot them.
Almost.
If Lynch hadn’t brought it up, she might have kept pretending she’d forgotten.
The reminder filled her with fear and anger, feeling stripped bare and exposed to the public eye by Lynch.
She instinctively glanced at the live audience and was briefly transported back to that day.
In that moment, she touched her hair, her face pale then flushed with fury.
“I only asked you some possibly sensitive questions, but you attacked me so viciously, Mr. Lynch. Is that how you learned to treat women in school?”
“I heard public schools are chaotic. I’ve done related programs on early romance, violence, fights between students and teachers…”
“Looks like you mastered all that well!” she said with a mocking smile. “I heard you had many flirtations in high school—that’s the perk of being handsome; you don’t need to try.”
Harsh and cruel—that’s how every guest on
Ora 90
felt. They hated it but couldn’t avoid it.
At that moment, the director returned with a cue card showing some text for Ora. The show had just begun, and stopping now could cause unnecessary trouble, so they had to continue.
The director relayed the congressman’s message via the card.
Ora saw the card, Lynch saw it too, and he gave her a meaningful smile that unsettled her and fueled her anger.
Her childhood experiences made her fiercely determined; she wanted control over everything, believing that controlling all would mean controlling her fate.She had always managed it before, and this time she believed she could too—she was determined to regain control.
She smoothed her hair, looked at Lynch, and decided to defy her father’s request. “What, do you think I’m wrong, Mr. Lynch?”
When she asked this, Ora silently praised her own cleverness. Inviting Lynch onto the show meant she had done her homework on him.
She knew Lynch had attended the most ordinary public schools in Sabin City since elementary school. What did public schools represent?
Endless chaos. In the federal education system, public schools were long seen as a blot on the system, always opposed to private schools.
One side let students out by 3 p.m. or 3:30 p.m. at the latest, with little homework.
The other side dismissed students at 5 or 6 p.m. and piled on a heavy load of homework.
Beyond schools, kids like Ora also had private tutors—a past she preferred to forget.
Yet all this was a source of pride among the upper class.
She lifted her chin slightly, staring at Lynch with barely concealed pride and arrogance.
No matter how far Lynch had come, he was still of lowly origin, from the social bottom. He could never match Ora in terms of birth.
Her sharp attack silenced the entire studio. From the start, the show was charged with tension—and excitement.
The audience watched Lynch, eager for his response, but this time their expectations felt different.
Maybe they sympathized?
Who knew—perhaps.
Lynch lowered his head in thought. Many knew that if he stumbled here, the damage would extend beyond himself.
A victorious smile crept onto Ora’s lips. She seemed certain she had won.