Chapter 121: Lynch Faces Harsh Treatment

It was another Saturday. Lynch sat on a row of empty bleachers, with many more reporters gathered below than last time.

Revitalizing the secondhand goods trading to reduce unnecessary consumer waste had become a new policy promoted by the mayor. This meant Lynch’s secondhand auction would be officially promoted statewide.

If successful, the Progressive Party’s territory and even the entire federation might adopt this new system.

Promotion was the first step. Last week, the mayor and Ferrell didn’t expect Lynch’s efforts to work miracles. They simply wanted to use the large crowd Lynch attracted for positive publicity about the mayor.

But the results exceeded expectations. Lynch’s cooperation in giving credit to the mayor helped bring in so many reporters.

This was also a test: if the auction underperformed the last one in the suburbs, Lynch’s plan for secondhand trading would be paused.

The excited reporters chatted and took photos, likely enjoying their first paid assignment.

The pay was small—fifty cash per person plus minor gifts like pens, notebooks, and an unopened film roll, totaling less than eighty Sol—but enough to satisfy them.

Journalists were easy to please at this stage; later, even eight hundred wouldn’t get their attention.

The auction started on time. This time they used the gymnasium to add more seating. Lynch also decided that only those with invitations could enter—not to reject wealth, but to formalize the event.

From the start, the atmosphere was lively. After the previous explosion in interest, people were keen on secondhand trading. Reports of items bought at about 60% of original price amazed many.

Among the crowd were some who didn’t plan to buy but only to watch—yet none escaped spending money eventually.

Lynch watched calmly while Ferrell nervously sat beside him, repeatedly asking how things were going. This auction’s outcome would determine what happened next.

Compared to Lynch, Ferrell was less composed.

“Don’t worry. Nothing will go wrong,” Lynch soothed him several times. Ferrell could only smile bitterly and stay quiet for a moment.

Soon he would ask again. He cared deeply about Lynch’s growth—whether he could become a towering tree, a strong ally.

Based on last week’s experience, the auction, originally scheduled for after two, started an hour early at one but still ran past schedule, barely ending at seven.

Staff began cleaning up, while the young men anxiously awaited their fate. Vera and her team quickly tallied the accounts.

Around 7:30, the final total came out: 480,000, the small change Lynch ignored.

This was less than 10,000 below last week’s total. It seemed decent but was only barely passing, as this auction was larger. The lack of villa sales meant fewer highlights.

Overall, it was satisfactory.

Vera handed Lynch another sheet. After reading it, he pocketed it without showing anyone else.

It recorded his earnings for the night—just over 110,000.

Of that, 20,000 came from auction transactions; the rest from guaranteed and shared profits. He was content but kept this sheet secret.

Next came the profit distribution, the moment the young men looked forward to most.

“Richard,” Lynch called from behind a table piled with cash. Richard grinned widely and stepped forward.

Lynch nodded, “You’re first this time. You get 4,100.” He counted it out and stuffed the cash into Richard’s arms.

Richard’s smile stretched impossibly wide; others’ eyes turned red with envy.

Richard was shameless, a scoundrel—a lowlife! Lynch had just learned he targeted lonely elderly people. But his insight was the best among them: those elders needed social connection, even if it cost money.

He shrewdly found a way to make people pay and shamelessly executed it, making him first place.

Another reason was that Richard borrowed 100 auction seats from the newsboys for his team, paying them extra.

The newsboys sold the seats under Lynch’s direction.

Lynch’s goal wasn’t just to show people could earn money here but to create the idea that auction seats themselves held value—wealth that could be traded.

Eventually, he could make huge profits from auction slots alone, without needing item sales.

After sending Richard away, Lynch turned to Wood. “You’re second, 3,795.” He counted and handed over the cash.

Wood nervously and excitedly stuffed it into his bag and thanked Lynch, happily returning to his group.

Lynch kept distributing money until the last unlucky one got his share.

Not truly unlucky—the last man was older, serious, not good at lightening the mood, and not as lucky as Wood.

He made less than 300 in profit but paid 500 for his seat, taking a loss.

Others lost money too. About 60,000 in profits were split among 50 people. The top earners took most; the rest hovered near break-even, with the worst losing just 200—a month’s wages for a regular worker.

This was bearable and excited everyone. Lynch proved that with effort, anyone could be a Richard, a Wood, part of this wealth story.

Next, Lynch had Cook bring buses to take the young men to a hotel he’d booked. Besides trucks, Lynch bought two buses for city transport.

After a tense week of preparation, the results were good. Lynch wanted the young men to relax and reward themselves.

Carpe diem wasn’t just his idea—it was society’s consensus.

He separately treated the ladies to a sumptuous dinner at the hotel restaurant: Vera, the previous girl, and three newcomers.

Lynch’s branches in other cities were in preparation. Accountants never complained about having too few staff, only too many—and they were crucial.

No matter how Lynch hid it, at least Vera knew his income—it was impossible to conceal. Future branch operations and accounting would be handled by assigned accountants. As long as he controlled the accounts, Lynch wasn’t afraid of troublemakers.

After dinner, a waiter pushed a luggage cart that caught the ladies’ attention.

On the cart were five brown paper bags stamped with the well-known Baylor Federation luxury brand Liora, specializing in women’s accessories including handbags.

Lynch gave each of the girls a gift. Inside was a new-season handbag of a different style, along with a small surprise—a charm worth around one to two hundred Sol.

Faced with tens of thousands in cash, if the girls didn’t receive some share of the profits, they would gradually lose their sense of balance.

This was common; most people, including the accountants, would feel uneasy comparing their income to Richard’s.

To reduce the risk of them being bribed, Lynch didn’t hesitate to spend this small amount. Every girl who received a bag was delighted—two of the younger girls even ran up and kissed Lynch on the cheek to express their thanks and surprise.

Indeed, just the handbag and charm together cost over three thousand Sol. Generous bosses like this were rare. People hadn’t yet realized that modest extra spending could help avoid larger financial losses.

Fine wine, good food, and beautiful women—perhaps emboldened by the first two girls, the other two also kissed Lynch on the cheek.

Lynch could only smile helplessly, sitting as the girls took turns teasing him with mock suffering. Soon all four girls were playfully making a scene.

Alcohol was truly a dangerous thing. Amid the teasing, Vera finally gave Lynch a quick kiss on the cheek.

Jokingly, Lynch said he planned not to wash his face for a week so the girls’ lipstick marks would last longer, which only energized them more—bosses like him were indeed rare.

After some lively fun, Lynch arranged for hotel staff to escort the girls to rest. They were all young and inexperienced with self-control; they’d drunk quite a bit. Lynch didn’t trust them to go home alone, so he booked rooms for them at the hotel.

As for himself, he had a driver take Vera home.

As before, he didn’t let the driver enter the community but stopped the car outside the gate.