Chapter 123: A Thousand Thoughts

At night, the mayor, slightly drunk after a social event, sat in his car staring at the dazzling city. Unlike the novels’ heroes, he felt no grand ambition or soaring spirit.

He only saw trouble—a huge, overwhelming trouble.

The sky was completely dark, mirroring the city’s desperate state.

Many believed mayors held more real power than state or city council members, who relied on collective votes. But only mayors knew that while smooth times were enjoyable, in situations like this, no matter how capable, it was nearly impossible to govern well.

Some things couldn’t be changed by will—like a declining economy.

Watching rising unemployment, homeless people wandering the streets, and growing deficits, the mayor felt helpless and exhausted.

The car slowed to a stop. The slight loss of momentum made him feel queasy. He slapped his cheek and got out.

Rejecting the driver’s help, he sat heavily on the sofa at home and sighed deeply.

A maid brought him chilled water. He drank it to clear his slight drunkenness and asked casually, “Has Ferrell come back?”

Ferrell and other aides lived in the same community, even next door to the mayor. They could arrive immediately whenever needed.

The maid nodded. “I saw Mr. Ferrell’s car arrive around seven.”

“Send him here. I’ll wait for him in the study.”

The mayor finished his water and felt more alert. Supporting himself, he wearily walked to the study.

Sitting down, he waited for Ferrell while lost in thought, drifting in and out of focus. When he fully came to, Ferrell was standing before him.

“When did you get here?” the mayor asked, wiping his eyes with a handkerchief, wanting to maintain dignity.

After the mayor composed himself, Ferrell looked up. “A while ago. I saw you resting and didn’t want to disturb you.”

The mayor forced a smile and sighed. “I met with Neo tonight. His attitude was ambiguous.”

Recently, a rumor spread in Sabin City that Liston’s CEO, Mr. Neo, was actively reaching out to the Conservative Party. In private, he praised some Conservative policies from recent years, claiming they put the Baylor Federation ahead of other nations.

In this country, almost everything could be confused—gender, loyalty, love, hatred—except political stance.

Neo could claim he’d broken with the mayor yet still insist on his Progressive Party stance. That was the root of their conflict.

But Neo’s rhetoric was shifting. The mayor needed to know if Neo was trying to pressure him or truly changing his mind.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t probe further. Neo avoided the topic, leaving the mayor with a tentative judgment: Neo was still choosing sides and hoped both parties would offer him incentives.

The detestable businessman, the detestable capitalist!

Around Liston, tens of thousands worked directly or indirectly. If Liston announced it was leaving Sabin City and the state to relocate to Conservative territory, it would be the mayor’s biggest failure as mayor.

Worse, even a small spike in unemployment—one or two thousand people—would send Sabin City into chaos.

Combined with recent rumors Neo deliberately leaked, the public would blame the mayor, accusing him of driving Neo away and causing job and livelihood losses.

Angry citizens could end the mayor’s political career. Neo was determined to force his resignation. But Neo overlooked another problem.

The downfall of EverBright wasn’t just Liston’s doing. Many others, some rival economic powers, contributed. Why would they allow Liston to swallow the most lucrative parts?

Even if he agreed, other mayors, council members, and governors wouldn’t. This made the situation a deadlock.

Was it truly unchangeable?

Not quite. Neo knew this too. His goal was to pressure him into maximizing benefits for him, but that was impossible. A good politician who becomes a capitalist’s pawn is an unfit politician, and his career is nearly over.

A dilemma that plagued the mayor.

He didn’t expect Ferrell to solve it immediately. This wasn’t new; he just needed to vent briefly.

After a pause, the mayor brought up another matter. “How’s Lynch’s situation?”

Ferrell’s expression shifted as he described the scene, impressing the mayor. Calculating silently, the mayor asked, “If this becomes standard, how many people would Lynch need to hire?”

“To serve him statewide,” he clarified.

Ferrell frowned, thinking it over. “Today he employs over forty sales staff, several accountants. Including temps for events and warehouse workers, one city offers 200 to 300 jobs.”

“All cities in the state combined…” Ferrell looked surprised, “at least 5,000 jobs!”

For a state of millions, 5,000 jobs wasn’t impressive, but the mayor valued them because Lynch’s plans extended beyond current numbers.

He did the math. According to Lynch’s claims, his clubs would create many more jobs. Adding his other ideas, he suddenly realized:

If realized, Lynch could provide at least 10,000 jobs statewide, and 4,000 in Sabin City alone.

A few hundred jobs might earn Lynch a glance, but 4,000 jobs could support 4,000 families—about 15,000 people directly, plus roughly 10,000 indirectly.

Just Lynch alone could affect nearly 30,000 lives—and that was before he became prominent. What if given a chance to grow?

The mayor pondered deeply. The Progressive Party agreed: forget economic growth for now, solve people’s livelihood first. Without that, the federal budget risked collapse.

If unchecked, local finances might go bankrupt.

In such times, capitalists grew more important. Politicians struggled to create jobs, but capitalists could.

They didn’t need to pamper everyone—just keep people afloat and systems running through hard times. Things would eventually improve.

With that, the mayor made a decision.

His meeting with Neo showed him Neo was unreliable. Liston wasn’t reliable either, even if the mayor compromised.

Neo had tried to force the mayor to bow. Even if he did, irreconcilable enmity would remain.

The mayor held back his anger because he still needed Neo. But once he regained power, he would make Neo and the Liston Group pay.

Could Neo not know this?

No, he knew perfectly well, yet he still acted this way. This meant their compromise wouldn’t last long and another conflict would soon ignite.

“Arrange a meeting for me with Lynch,” the mayor said decisively. Lynch might not be able to change the current situation, but he could offer new ideas.

Looking at Lynch’s enterprises, it was clear he was a visionary young man. If he could suggest ways to survive this difficult time, the mayor wouldn’t have to yield—and might even find a chance to strike back at Neo.

Ferrell, who knew Lynch well, was an ideal intermediary. The mayor and Lynch had met and even shared a meal, but their acquaintance was superficial. To discuss deeper, core issues, a trustworthy middleman was necessary.

Suddenly, sending Ferrell to connect with Lynch seemed like a good plan—at least one more path, one opportunity.

His mood lifted, he felt lighter and began to look forward to the meeting.