Blackstone Code-Chapter 593: The Human Cannonball

Before Lynch came to this world, he had suffered many losses.
So many, in fact, that he couldn’t remember them all. But he never truly saw them as losses—more like painful experiences that taught him lessons.
Each setback made him grow and learn more, until he no longer suffered setbacks.
But once he arrived in this era, he started suffering losses again.
The first person who took advantage of him is now serving a long prison sentence. Surely, he will come to regret his past aggression.
The second was Mr. Herbes. He forced Lynch to spend several times more than expected during the foundational phase of his business here, just to acquire what he wanted. This nearly threw his entire development plan off track.
Though the bank shares part of the blame, what angered Lynch most was that the man who made him overspend later told him it wasn’t really a loss—because the extra money bought him Mr. Herbes’s friendship.
It was a ridiculous, absurd notion. Herbes had placed himself above Lynch and offered a condescending sense of consolation, as if giving alms.
Lynch suspected that Herbes hadn’t even been bidding seriously—that he was simply toying with him for amusement, indulging in a twisted sense of superiority before pretending to act benevolent with a symbolic gesture.
Losses like this were meaningless. They brought nothing but pain, no real experience or growth.
Just like the first man who made Lynch suffer—they weren’t playing a fair game within the rules of society. That man crossed the line using raw power, and Lynch gained nothing from that transgression but pain. So he sought revenge, just like now.
And that’s what led to this
surprise
. Lynch could be generous—like when he bought houses from Nail’s former coworkers and resold them on installment plans to prevent the bank from evicting them.
But he could also be petty—vindictive, even irrational.
The next day, after being seen off by local officials, the Federal delegation boarded a train bound for the Gephra imperial capital.
Everything here—from the culture to the architecture—differed greatly from the Federation. Even the trains were different.
The carriage was filled with that distinct
flavor
of Gephra—an air of elegance mixed with an arrogance that Federation citizens found hard to digest. It was strange—none of it was intentionally unpleasant, but people, guided by their instincts, judged it as either refined or repugnant.
Take the seating, for instance.
Federal trains typically used booth-style seats: wooden frames with worn leather padding. The more comfortable ones had independent, cushioned, reclining chairs.
But here, everything exuded the
decadence of empire
.
Exquisite round tables surrounded by leather chairs, cozy sofas, low tea tables, even a bar and a dance floor—riding this train was an indulgence. Some couldn’t stand it.
They called it
decadence
to assert their loyalty to their homeland, the Federation, and its ideology.
The entire day passed on the train. Gephra’s trains were slower than the Federation’s. It wasn’t until the next day that they arrived in the imperial capital, even though the eastern port city wasn’t far.
Upon disembarking, they were greeted by Gephra’s foreign minister and his entourage. After brief introductions, the group was whisked away—trailing journalists behind them—to the Empire Hotel, the capital’s most luxurious and prestigious establishment.
For decades, the Empire Hotel had been used to host important foreign guests. Before that, about 70–80 years ago, visiting delegations would stay in the royal palace.
No matter the origin, they’d be hosted in the palace to show the empire’s grandeur and hospitality—demonstrating the might of a great nation.
Back when technology was less advanced, a royal city or palace symbolized national strength. Only prosperous, powerful countries could afford to build such monumental royal compounds.
But eventually, the royal family stopped doing that—because they noticed that every time a small nation came to visit, something would go missing.
A set of solid gold cutlery here, a few crystal goblets there. Though not particularly valuable, every loss meant replacing entire sets—an annoyance for the royal household.
They couldn’t exactly call visiting delegations
thieves
, so they used palace renovations as an excuse and started hosting guests at the Empire Hotel instead.
Unlike the royal family, the hotel management wasn’t so concerned with decorum. After they publicly announced that items had gone missing during a state visit, the problem disappeared completely.
This became the new norm. No one stayed at the palace anymore—everyone was hosted at the Empire Hotel.
To welcome the Federal delegation, local nobles organized a party and invited the delegation—an opportunity to break the ice before official talks began.
“…I suggest we deepen our technological cooperation.”
Upon entering the ballroom, Lynch saw the Deputy Foreign Minister standing with several imperial nobles, listening to their suggestions.
He could tell they were nobles by their appearance and mannerisms—it was obvious.
In this monarchy, everything was strictly codified—including who could do what.
For example, only nobles were allowed to wear floral collars. It might sound strange, but that was the law. Especially at formal gatherings like this, it was easy to tell nobility from commoners.
The speaker was the Deputy Director of the Royal Academy of Sciences. Holding a glass of wine, he was discussing ideas with the Deputy Minister and members of the education delegation.
It wasn’t an exaggeration or boast to say that the Federation had the most advanced technology in the world—it was a fact.
This was proven in the recent naval battle.
Submarines were common among advanced nations—Gephra included. They were used for laying undersea cables and clearing inland waterways.
Some had imagined using submarines as offensive weapons, but technological limitations rendered them ineffective in war—until the Federation demonstrated their overwhelming value in the recent conflict.
Only then did the world begin to truly respect the Federation’s technological prowess and recognize the strategic value of science in national competition.
A new, less combative form of tech-based rivalry was taking shape among developed nations. Some of the Federation’s public scientific achievements overlapped with areas Gephra coveted. They saw this as a prime opportunity.
If there was room for deeper collaboration—why not pursue it?
Lynch didn’t speak or interfere. He trusted his team to handle the Gephrans. He had taught them quite a bit about diplomacy in recent days.
Just as he was about to find a quiet corner, a gentle female voice called out behind him.
“Mr. Lynch…”
It was soft and graceful—just the sound evoked an image of feminine elegance.
Lynch turned around. Standing there was a beautiful woman in her early thirties, radiating a unique and refined charm. Her looks and figure were both exceptional.
“You are…?”
He didn’t recognize her, though she had clearly done her homework.
“Forgive me for the sudden approach. You can call me Jania,” she said, extending her hand.
Lynch smiled and shook it.
From what Lynch could see so far, this woman named Jania matched his taste in nearly every way. He didn’t mind chatting with her at this otherwise dull party.
“You already know me—Lynch,” he said.
“Yes, I do, Mr. Lynch. I’ve read The Adventures of Lynch, and I’ve seen both film adaptations. Every time I think about the thrilling things you went through in Nagaryll, I can hardly breathe!” she said, holding her hands to her chest. Lynch’s eyes instinctively flicked to her ample bosom.
He wasn’t ashamed of it. Appreciating beauty was human nature. He admired others just as others admired his looks—it was perfectly normal.
With a few subtle gestures, he acknowledged her compliment.
Then Jania continued the conversation, and Lynch learned that she was actually a member of the royal family. However, she had never used her royal status for personal gain. On the contrary, she had rebelliously chosen to become an actress.
To the general public, being an actor might seem impressive, but in royal circles, it was far from a respectable profession.
As the two enjoyed their conversation, several individuals secretly observing them quietly exhaled in relief.
To better understand the Federation’s true intentions and limits, the Gephrans had made several covert arrangements.
The Royal Academy of Sciences was just one part of the plan. Jania was another.
They had even studied Lynch’s preferences in women and selected someone who matched them to make contact.
Mature, well-educated, gentle, witty, and showing just the right amount of admiration for him…