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Lending money to Nagalier for its infrastructure wasn't something Lynch had dreamed up on a whim, nor was it an impulsive decision.

Once the federal society realized that Nagalier could serve as a "lifeblood pack" to help restore the federation, waves of explorers, prospectors, speculators, tycoons, and banks would flood into the region. Whether entering or leaving, none of it would be possible without a robust transportation system—making road construction the top priority.

Clearly, Nagalier's government had no interest in building roads. If they did, given the cheap local labor costs, they would've already completed them long ago. But their reluctance stemmed from two things: unwillingness and lack of funds. That didn't faze Lynch one bit. He'd lend them the money to build—not just him, but others too, including banks and conglomerates. And it wouldn't stop at ordinary highways. Canals, railways—all were part of the plan.

A massive wave of development was about to sweep across Nagalier. Yet behind this grand endeavor lay no noble vision of mutual prosperity. It was something far more calculated—and far colder.

Nail, sitting across from Lynch, hesitated for a long moment before voicing his concerns. "I don't think they'll be able to pay us back," he said cautiously. "If you're set on lending them money, maybe consider some other business instead."

He quickly clarified himself. "It's not that I think the deal itself is bad—it's just that the risks might outweigh the rewards."

"And remember," he added, "they're the local authority. If they decide to brazenly default on their debts, it could turn into a disaster."

Over the past while, Nail had been exposed to many things he'd never encountered before. His understanding of the world was growing rapidly, but compared to someone like Lynch, he still had a long way to go. He saw the risks, understood the potential profits, but lacked the tools to mitigate those risks. This was the fundamental gap between small-time merchants and those who operated at the upper echelons of society—their resources and methods were vastly different.

It was a stark social truth. When people at the bottom of society faced problems they couldn't solve themselves, their limited connections and narrow circles left them powerless. They often resorted to appealing to the media or the government. But such appeals rarely worked. Both institutions carried their own biases, and when public cries for help threatened their interests, those voices were drowned out by static.

The elite, however, played by different rules. They had countless ways to resolve issues—or eliminate those causing them. Even if they couldn't handle something personally, their networks provided ample means to do so.

Lynch smirked dismissively, tilting his head slightly. "If they could repay me, I wouldn't bother with this deal. What I want is for them not to repay me—but to pretend I don't know that."

He leaned forward slightly, offering Nail a hint. "When you get there and start working, don't remind anyone that they're broke. Pretend you don't notice. Got it?"

Nail's lips moved, but he didn't respond right away. He looked at Lynch, hoping he might reconsider. Part of him thought this was a foolish investment, but another part worried about what Lynch's decisions meant for their family. If Lynch fell, Nail's livelihood would crumble. Everything he now possessed—his status, his identity as "Boss Nail" rather than just plain old Nail—would vanish overnight. The young women flocking to him, praising his wit and charm, weren't drawn to him; they were drawn to his wealth. He liked his current life and didn't want to lose it.

Father and son locked eyes. Such moments had occurred countless times before, usually ending with Lynch being "persuaded." But this time, Lynch intended to persuade Nail.

"Alright, I'll explain briefly."

Nail straightened up immediately, listening intently.

"The system in Nagalier is unique. If the provinces we build roads in can't repay us, we'll gain control over toll collection."

"Only those we approve of will use our roads for free. Everyone else pays according to our terms."

"Beyond that, land, minerals, forests—all are negotiable assets. We'll offer them a ‘reasonable' price."

"And finally, Nagalier isn't exactly stable or safe. To protect our interests, we'll establish a private security force to ensure no one interferes with our operations."

Something clicked in Nail's mind. "An independent kingdom…"

Lynch shook his head. "No, you're wrong. I'm just a businessman, not a king."

In reality, the situation was far more complex than Nail could grasp—and perhaps didn't need to. Lynch's proposal to make Thor, the federal currency, legal tender in Nagalier United Kingdom faced slim chances of approval. No one expected it to pass outright; this was simply how deals worked. Lynch set a price, then negotiations began. As soon as Nagalier officially recognized Thor's legitimacy within its borders, half the battle would be won.

Legal circulation and actual circulation weren't the same concept. Lynch understood this distinction well. After a brief pause, he returned to discussing specific requirements for Nail's work in Nagalier. Nail knew there was no point arguing further. In the end, he listened silently and accepted his fate.

Around ten o'clock, Lynch left the villa. Nail watched as the car disappeared down the driveway, then turned toward the bathroom. From afar, Sella glanced at him briefly before returning her attention to the fashion magazine in her lap. Its glossy pages featured the season's hottest trends and previews of the upcoming Fashion Week in Benelit, the pearl of the southern cities. Supermodels, renowned designers, and top-tier brands would converge for the event.

Nearly forty minutes later, Nail emerged from the bathroom wearing a bathrobe. Determined to scrub away every trace of feminine perfume clinging to him, he'd gone all out. His skin was flushed red, as though he'd been boiled alive like a lobster.

"Is it really that fascinating?" he asked casually.

Sella nodded. "I might go. Some neighbors are planning to attend together. We can book an entire train carriage to avoid interruptions."

Nail considered this. "Do what you want…" He started to leave, but Sella put down her magazine and called after him.

"What did Lynch talk to you about?" she asked.

Nail stopped and turned back. He sat down on the couch and signaled for the maid to bring him a drink. "I'll probably head to Nagalier soon. Lynch has invested in some ventures there."

Sella wasn't surprised. She placed her hand gently over his. "Help him properly. He has no siblings, and the only people he trusts are us…"

After spending two days in Sabin City, Lynch prepared to depart. Just as he was leaving, Mr. Truman called unexpectedly.

"I heard you're somehow connected to the Listoan case…" Truman paused, flipping through papers audibly. "Do you know Gap?"

Lynch frowned slightly. "I know his wife."

Even through the phone line, Lynch sensed the subtle shift in Truman's demeanor. There was no need to explain—it wasn't worth it. Only fools would assume anything improper existed between them.

After a tense silence, Truman cleared his throat. "You know, recently, Congressman Wales—yes, that congressman—has been criticizing our actions. At first, the president ignored him."

"But now he's rallying support for a bill called the Temporary Presidential Power Restriction Act. Essentially, it aims to curb the president's authority during the transition period…"

While Wales' rhetoric stirred some debate among the public and media, it held little real power. If a single congressman's words could sway presidential policy, the office itself would be redundant. Wales had taken plenty of money from Pretton but achieved nothing. The president remained steadfast in pursuing grand plans to boost his approval ratings ahead of reelection. Petty attacks from "foolish political enemies" barely registered on his radar.

Failing once, perhaps spurred by threats or fresh incentives from Pretton, Wales submitted a proposal targeting the president directly. By pushing this legislation, he hoped to strip the executive branch of war authorization powers, transferring them to Congress.

Congress, of course, was a peculiar beast. Behind its formal facade lurked lobbyists and influence peddlers whose reach extended far beyond official records. According to statistics, Bupayne alone hosted 117 registered political lobbying groups, with the largest boasting over forty members. These individuals weren't lawmakers or politicians, yet they wielded enough clout to sway congressional decisions.

Should Pretton double down on his congressional bets, trouble loomed—a crisis waiting to happen. Through personal connections, Truman uncovered crucial intel: Wales had previously been implicated in the EverBright Group scandal. Though charges were dropped due to insufficient evidence, the mere association presented an opportunity.

Whether guilty or innocent, Wales was already implicated. Now, it was just a matter of exploiting that connection.

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