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Nagalier had become a treasure trove in the eyes of many, especially within the Progressive Party. From the president down to the average party member, everyone understood one thing clearly: Nagalier possessed everything the Federation desperately needed. Otherwise, why would the Federation go through such extraordinary lengths for a Pretton pirate faction?

But what exactly were these benefits? Some people knew—those who orchestrated the events. They certainly understood the advantages their actions would bring and acted accordingly. Others, however, weren't as clear. They simply followed the tide, swept along by the prevailing trend.

Take Mayor Langdon of Sabin City, for example. The mentor who had introduced him to the Progressive Party and helped him climb the political ladder had privately advised him to speak with Lynch if the opportunity arose. Perhaps they could secure some crucial political resources for Langdon.

At his level—as mayor of Sabin City—the next step wasn't about personal ability anymore. Personal capability had already become secondary. What mattered most was how many people were willing to help him ascend. This was a truth every ambitious politician in the Federation knew all too well: money equaled upward mobility.

The holders of wealth—the capitalists—could invest in factories that revitalized local economies, create jobs, and put cash into people's pockets. They could diversify the market, making more goods accessible to ordinary households and raising the overall quality of life. Beyond that, they brought advancements in healthcare, education, industry, and technology—all things tied directly to money and those who controlled it.

If Mayor Langdon could reap even a small benefit from this situation involving Nagalier, it would still represent a monumental leap forward for him. He didn't dream of becoming governor, but securing a seat in Congress seemed entirely plausible. With his connections to certain businesses and his friendly relationship with influential figures like Lynch, committees aligned with corporate interests might find him an attractive candidate. That alone gave him the credentials to aim for Congress.

Congress consisted of two chambers: the Senate and the House of Representatives. While members came from both, there were distinctions between them. For instance, a senator serving on multiple congressional committees held far greater influence than a representative without any committee assignments.

According to the Federation's charter and laws, Congress could have no more than twenty-four committees at its peak. Eight of these were permanent fixtures, including the Military Committee, the Development Coordination Committee, and the Budget Appropriations Committee. Six of the permanent committees fell under the Senate's purview, while two belonged to the House. Each chamber then formed eight additional temporary committees to handle specific national tasks.

Committees like the "Healthcare Reform Committee" emerged or dissolved depending on proposed legislation or presidential initiatives. Still, the Senate consistently dominated the most critical committees. Though the House boasted more representatives, their opportunities paled in comparison. But whether in the Senate or the House, permanent or temporary committees, none operated without money.

Money was power—and a very good thing indeed.

If his nephew Mark could capitalize on developing Nagalier and attract substantial funding, while also courting support from large local enterprises and wealthy capitalists, Langdon stood to gain immensely. These capitalists naturally wanted a voice in Congress—even if that voice merely relayed information. After all, being a member of Congress carried far more weight than being mayor. In certain situations, it could even outshine a governor's authority.

This was precisely why Langdon sought out Lynch—to explore possibilities for himself and for Sabin City.

Lynch pondered quietly for a moment. Like any successful businessman or capitalist, he needed political allies to advocate for his interests. Such representation was essential.

He recalled a joke he'd once heard: a group of politicians sat debating who should be sent to the front lines to face death. Hours passed, yet no decision emerged; each had reasons not to go, and no one could persuade the others. The argument dragged on until late at night, leaving everyone exhausted—but dawn approached, and someone had to be chosen.

Finally, an elderly gentleman, unable to hold it any longer, excused himself to use the restroom. Everyone agreed. As soon as he left, someone suggested sending the old man instead. His reasoning? The man was "respected and venerable." After hours of deadlock, the proposal was unanimously approved. When the elder returned, they promptly informed him of the "fair and just" vote.

It wasn't a funny story, but it was thought-provoking. Sometimes, when facing overwhelming challenges, what you need isn't someone to turn the tide—it's someone willing to say "no" on your behalf. Having such a person—or not—made all the difference. No one cared about the opinions of those who stayed silent.

Lynch needed his own political advocate. The established politicians already had backers lined up, and expanding his business to Bupayne wasn't feasible in the short term. Investing in Mayor Langdon, however, seemed promising. After a brief silence, Lynch shared his thoughts.

"We need to abandon some of our current perspectives," Lynch said candidly. "We don't have much competitive advantage in light industry or manufacturing. Those industries can take root anywhere, given enough investment."

"Do you understand what I mean by ‘industrial chain'?"

The mayor nodded. It wasn't a particularly difficult concept.

"What we possess, others possess too—and often better. So we must let go of areas where we lack superiority and seek new directions."

"Of course, things here won't change. But in Nagalier, we'll approach things differently."

At this point, Lynch posed a question: "What do you think about utilizing human resources?"

It wasn't an easy question to answer, and it immediately reminded the mayor of several periods of rapid social development in Federation history. During those times, cheap foreign laborers were smuggled into the country by criminal organizations to work for fractions of what Federation workers earned. Their working hours and intensity were multiples of what locals endured.

These laborers were treated as expendable, their bodies paving the way for the nation's infrastructure—railways, canals, towering structures. Yet, once projects ended, most were deported, no longer needed by the Federation.

It was a chapter few Federation citizens wished to remember—not out of guilt, but because acknowledging it felt like soiling expensive clothes. History books glossed over it, leaving future historians baffled about how these feats were accomplished. Perhaps some charlatan would attribute them to miracles, turning them into unsolved mysteries.

Nowadays, though memories faded slowly, the mayor quickly grasped what Lynch implied. "You're talking about the human trade?" he asked hesitantly before adding, "That's internationally banned now. If we proceed, we'll face condemnation—not just you and me, but the entire Federation."

Lynch shook his head. "No, it's labor exportation. We'll organize surplus labor from Nagalier to work abroad and earn foreign currency. I've observed many places in Nagalier recently and have a clear plan."

"Most Nagalier residents spend their days waking up, waiting for meals, and then sleeping. You'll see countless idle people lying around on roadsides. They do nothing all day."

"One reason is the low status of women in Nagalier society. Men leave work to them, which may sound absurd."

"Another reason is the scarcity of stable, salaried jobs. Without options, they conserve energy rather than waste it. Lying still becomes preferable to futile effort."

"And this," Lynch concluded, "is where the money lies."

"Gevra's construction in Ameliea region has begun. Do you know their hourly wage there?"

The mayor's attention snapped back. "How much?"

"Sixty-seven Gepru per hour."

Gepru was Gevra's official currency, though people rarely used the term except for small denominations. Larger bills were nicknamed "Gold Emperor" (hundred), "Silver Emperor" (fifty), "Prince" (twenty), and "Minister" (ten).

Lynch's figure raised the mayor's eyebrows. It exceeded his expectations.

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