Blackstone Code-Chapter 597: A Pit a Day, Each One Unique

In the restaurant, Lynch and Jania sat face to face.
They had chosen a somewhat traditional venue where only one dish was served at a time. Each course was cleared before the next was brought out, keeping the table from getting cluttered.
They sipped their wine and chatted quietly. The topics were ordinary—changes in trends, for example.
“Since the second half of last year, adventure films have started trending here. Many people say it’s because of you. I’ve accepted a role in one. We’ll start shooting once it gets warmer, and the location is Nagaryll.”
Jania’s eyes shimmered. The more she talked with Lynch, the more she understood this handsome, wealthy, and seemingly flawless man—and the more resentment she felt.
Not toward Lynch, but toward her age, her background that denied her freedom, and the fact that she met Lynch too late.
She didn’t want to admit it, but she couldn’t deny it—she was deeply attracted to a man nearly ten years her junior.
His eloquence, charm, humor, elegance, knowledge, vision…
To her, even a strand of Lynch’s leg hair was just right. He was that captivating. She sighed softly.
Looking at him, she said, “You’ll have to look after me then—it’s your home turf.”
Originally, she hadn’t planned to accept the film. Adventure movies were flooding the global market. While they were wildly popular across countries, Jania had her doubts.
Analysts predicted that adventure films would dominate for three to five years. The emotional void left by the war was being filled by stories about rebellious, team-based survival and exploration. During wartime, exaggerated war films had huge box office success, as people craved stories of victory and hope.
But now, with the war over, its traumas were beginning to surface. People were starting to loathe war—and with it, war films.
Every era had its dominant genre. Adventure was today’s trend. A few saw inspirational films as the next wave, but that market hadn’t matured. Capital still chased adventure.
The market was saturated with poorly made adventure films. Jania, as a royal with natural privilege and script selection rights, wasn’t eager to jump on the bandwagon.
If the film succeeded, people would say it was expected—it was a trending genre.
If it failed, they’d question her background, her acting.
But now her mind had changed. Accepting this role meant she could stay in Nagaryll for a while—and spend more time with Lynch.
“No problem,” Lynch agreed easily, then added, “There’s a party tomorrow in my honor. Most attendees are local political and financial figures. I didn’t plan on this when I came, so I need a date.”
Seeing the look in her eyes, he smiled. “If you don’t mind, I’d like you to accompany me.”
“To quote you…” Jania clinked glasses with him. “No problem.”
As they talked, a flash of white light suddenly appeared outside. Lynch stood up quickly, shielding Jania as he looked out.
On the nearby street, a er locked eyes with him, then turned and ran off into the night.
“Must’ve been a er,” Jania guessed correctly. “People love royal gossip.”
Lynch didn’t sit down. He pointed outside.
The restaurant’s security detail spread out further, now standing along the street to ensure Lynch wouldn’t be disturbed again.
Turning back to her, he asked, “Should I have him brought back?”
She was momentarily surprised, then shook her head. “No, it’s fine. People may love royal gossip, but they know how far to go. You don’t have to worry about them writing anything too disgusting—they wouldn’t dare.”
In the Federation, a parent once sued the president because their child learned curse words from a speech. But in Gephra, defaming royalty was on par with second-degree murder—enough to ruin someone for life.
Even if a paper had real dirt on royalty, without royal approval, they wouldn’t dare publish it.
The two returned to their table and continued their pleasant conversation.
After dinner, they saw a movie, then returned to the hotel and continued their deep discussion on everything that intrigued or concerned them.
Early the next morning, while Lynch was having breakfast in the hotel restaurant, he saw the day’s newspaper.
The front page of a local entertainment paper featured a large photo of him with the headline:
The Man Who Took the Empire’s Flower
.
Pages one and two were filled with photos—Lynch and Jania dining together, entering and leaving the cinema, and finally entering the hotel. The accompanying text detailed Lynch’s background and described how he and Jania met and quickly fell in love.
The article was surprisingly entertaining. Lynch read it with interest, especially the part describing the beginning of their
relationship
: “Lynch was instantly captivated by Jania’s elegance and fell at her feet…”
In other words, in less than—Lynch glanced at his watch—72 hours, the narrative painted him as the
pursuer,
elevating Jania’s status in the relationship.
“You’re famous now…”
Lynch looked up. The captain had arrived with a tray and sat beside him. Judging by his expression, he wasn’t angry—more amused.
To him, and to most of the Federation delegation and citizens back home, Lynch arriving in Gephra’s capital and immediately bedding the Emperor’s sister was the ultimate flex for a Federation man.
There was no better proof of their superiority.
It wasn’t something to worry about—it was something to be proud of.
People were slowly getting used to the confidence that came with being a global power. It was an amusing shift.
Lynch set the paper aside, crossed his legs, and smiled at the captain. “Sorry I didn’t join your discussion last night. How did it go?”
The commander ate his breakfast while smiling. “Not bad. This time the Gephrans’ demands are much more conservative than last time—not so extreme, and much easier to negotiate.”
In the previous round of talks, the Gephrans had made all sorts of harsh and sometimes outright unreasonable demands. They insisted the Federation comply with this and that, refusing to concede even the smallest issue, which dragged the negotiations on for a long time.
But after that naval battle, the negotiations suddenly yielded unprecedented progress. Many things became open for discussion.
This time, the Gephrans’ conditions were no longer extreme. They even indicated a willingness to compromise to some extent—something the commander, who had participated in the previous talks, found hard to believe.
The Gephrans who had been so principled, so unyielding, who had even threatened to
let war do the talking
, had vanished. In their place were people willing to reason. All because they lost a naval battle.
It made the commander realize even more clearly the true nature of diplomacy—everything rests on power.
The other side must understand that diplomacy only exists because everyone agrees to be civilized. If diplomacy can’t achieve something that war can, then it’s hard for the other side to stick to their position.
“I have an idea…”
Hearing that Lynch had a thought, the commander put down his food and picked up a napkin to wipe his hands and mouth. “Go ahead, I’m listening.”
“I noticed that the two proposed cooperation lists seem to lack cultural exchange, especially the one from Gephra.”
“As we pursue collaboration across various sectors, shouldn’t we also deepen cultural exchanges?”
The commander furrowed his brows, thinking for a moment, not fully grasping the point. “Is there something special about that?”
Lynch nodded. “As the most powerful country in the world right now, pure business cooperation isn’t enough to strengthen our ties. Culture can.”
“We can foster a broader societal understanding beyond just business—one that deepens mutual awareness and strengthens the foundation for cooperation in all areas.”
The commander nodded thoughtfully after hearing this. “That actually makes some sense. I’ll add it to the negotiation framework, but when we get to that part, you’ll have to handle the talks with the Gephrans yourself.”
Lynch gave a slight nod. “It would be an honor.”