Blackstone Code-Chapter 596: Life Is Not Easy

The first round of negotiations arrived much sooner than expected. On the second day after the delegation arrived in the imperial capital, and following their audience with the Emperor that morning, the first session began that very afternoon.

Though it was labeled as a negotiation, it was more accurately a mutual exchange of demands—a process of understanding each other’s positions.

The Federation presented a list; Gephra did the same. These lists were exchanged, each entry representing a demand or request, with the hope of cooperation from the other side.

But these lists only covered surface-level topics. The real core issues—the heart of the negotiation—remained undisclosed. Those would be addressed later.

Everyone was reading through the lists, including Lynch. He sat second from the end on the right side of the negotiation table, flipping through the document in his hands with a series of amused expressions.

Gephra was a monarchy. People here didn’t share the Federation’s fervent obsession with liberty—freedom worth dying for.

In Gephra, loyalty to the Emperor was the dominant faith. From elementary school through university, the entire educational system indoctrinated students with this ideology: the Emperor is the most important figure and the symbol of the nation.

Freedom had never been praised in Gephra. In fact, it was often equated with disorder. As a result, many viewed the word freedom with distaste—something undisciplined and unruly.

That didn’t mean the people here rejected the idea of true freedom. Under the constraints of state ideology, open discussions were rare. But deep down, there remained a trace of curiosity, a faint longing.

The cooperation lists from both sides contained almost nothing related to social or cultural exchanges—an obvious sign of the Gephran ruling class’s fear of the Federation’s freedom. They were worried that such ideas could trigger unwanted unrest, so they chose to avoid those topics altogether.

Gephra’s main interests were in military and technological cooperation, including metallurgy.

“What do you think of the list, Mr. Lynch?”

The man seated next to Lynch—the one furthest right from the central position—lowered his voice to ask.

Across the table, people were also engaged in quiet discussions, exchanging thoughts on the nature of the entries in the Federation’s list.

The young man beside Lynch, the last on the right, seemed to feel he should speak as well. After all, he was seated at the negotiation table. If he stayed silent the entire time, what was the point of being here?

He looked at Lynch and asked, “I think some of these requests are… a bit unreasonable.” He was trying to engage.

Lynch glanced at him, nodded slightly, and signaled him to continue.

The young man, who appeared to be in his late twenties, pointed out a few demands he found unreasonable and explained his reasoning. He was clearly engaged and eager to contribute.

Afterward, he looked at Lynch with anticipation. He wasn’t just offering opinions—he was seeking validation.

“Very good ideas. I think they’re quite valuable,” Lynch said without holding back praise. “Your insights are constructive. You should consider discussing them privately with the delegation leader—your input might prove enlightening.”

“Do you really think so, Mr. Lynch?” the young man asked, clearly flattered.

He didn’t need to feel that way. To be part of an overseas delegation for trade talks before the age of thirty was already a sign of a bright future—so long as he didn’t make any major mistakes.

Lynch wasn’t his superior, nor was he a government official. Objectively, the young man didn’t need to care what Lynch thought.

But this was the Federation. Here, capital permeated everything—even political power.

Without the support of capital, government officials couldn’t compete. They’d be eliminated by voters.

Even officials not in executive roles needed the backing of capitalists. Without it, they’d never stand out from the crowd and rise to prominence.

They’d never become a public figure, never appear regularly on TV, never get a platform for their ideas—things essential for any future election campaign.

Promotions also had ties to capital. Business elites could lobby high-ranking officials on behalf of promising junior ones, drawing attention to their efforts.

This is why Lynch’s approval thrilled the young man. Now he could say things like Mr. Lynch strongly agreed with my views, or Mr. Lynch and I see eye to eye on several issues.

Given Lynch’s influence, those words might help him get promoted. His superiors might even see him as a valuable connection to Lynch—someone who could open doors to high-level cooperation or assistance.

The delegation leader cleared his throat, drawing attention. He laid Gephra’s list on the table and pointed to one entry. “This item is outside the scope of our consideration.”

From a distance, Lynch glanced at the entry. It was listed under metallurgy. He turned to the same page in his copy and saw the project: a special alloy formula—denied.

His expression turned curious. The young man beside him quickly offered an explanation.

The formula in question was for the alloy used in the hulls of the Federation Navy’s current submarines.

This metal needed to be both incredibly hard and highly ductile—capable of withstanding extreme environments. It was extremely valuable. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

Lynch wasn’t familiar with the exact metallurgy. Many of these formulas were national secrets—deep cooperation on such matters was impossible.

The leader changed tone: “However, we can provide the finished metal products at a low price, and send engineers to help you process them…”

And so, this first non-negotiation negotiation session wrapped up before dinner, as both sides alternated between rejections and compromise suggestions.

Everyone remained polite. The Gephrans even invited the delegation to dinner, but Lynch excused himself early.

Jania had come looking for him again.

Seeing her confirmed his plan was working.

He’d always known she approached him with a purpose—to extract information.

And he’d been willing to play along, for his own reasons. He needed her to pass certain messages to those collecting intelligence.

Her reappearance meant she’d completed phase one of her assignment and had been given a second.

After bidding the leader farewell, Lynch left with her.

“There’s a very special restaurant in the capital. I made a reservation,” Jania said naturally, linking her arm with Lynch’s.

She smelled lovely—not like artificial perfume, but a natural scent.

The Gephran royals and aristocrats still used ancient methods to scent their clothing. The day before, they’d place garments in a fragrance chamber where plant essences were extracted and infused into the fabric via steam.

The result was a soft, natural scent—though it didn’t last long.

For the nobility, that wasn’t a problem. Changing outfits every two hours was standard. At a single banquet, they might wear three or four ensembles to suit different moments.

Lynch twirled a strand of hair between his fingers. Jania looked at him and asked, “What is it?”

“You smell wonderful…”

She didn’t respond like a shy young girl with a coy “You’re terrible.” Instead, she asked confidently, “Do you like it?”

Lynch nodded. “I can hardly wait.”

“You have such a sweet tongue,” Jania said, clearly in a good mood. Being complimented by a handsome, wealthy young man was proof she still had charm. “But first, we eat!”

Soon, they arrived at the special restaurant Jania had mentioned. To Lynch’s surprise, the owner was Jania’s uncle.

In other words, the restaurant was run by a member of the royal family—her uncle, the Emperor’s brother.

“Not everyone is obsessed with power,” Jania said as they sat at the table, as if explaining. “Take me, for example. I love film. I enjoy playing different roles in different stories, experiencing different lives—that’s what I pursue.”

“And my uncle, he loves cooking. They say that during the reign of the previous Emperor—my grandfather—he would only eat meals prepared by my uncle.”

“I actually envy him. He’s always stayed true to his passion. He lives more freely than anyone.”

Lynch didn’t comment. Whether it was true freedom or simply resignation—only they knew.