Chapter 139: Adulthood Isn’t Easy for Anyone

“Mr. Lynch, I think there are some issues with your claim.”

Right after Lynch had briefly assessed the short-term valuation of his Interstellar Trading Company and stunned the room with his skillful presentation, someone raised a different opinion.

This was normal—business is a back-and-forth. No one’s forbidden from negotiating price.

Lynch certainly wouldn’t shut it down either. That’s not how business is done. He pulled out a box of cigarettes, nodded slightly, and gestured for the man to continue.

The man with the blue tie offered a different view. “I don’t believe a company’s valuation should be based solely on its profit. And it’s unrealistic to assume the Interstellar Trading Company would reinvest all its earnings back into itself. So I think your valuation might be inaccurate.”

What the blue tie said was akin to saying a person earning 200 a month could save 2,400 a year—it’s an idealized model, not practical.

First, there are fluctuations in revenue. It never stays in a narrow range; it fluctuates, sometimes drastically, leading to a huge gap between ideal and actual results.

And so far, operations are only active in Sabin City. There’s no telling how profitable other regions will be. Overall, it’s no easy task.

Setting up a roadside stall might only cost 500, and it might bring in 300–500 a month in profit. But does that mean its valuation should be tens of thousands? Of course not—not without entry barriers or a licensing system. So Lynch’s valuation seemed a bit like concept manipulation.

As mentioned earlier, what makes business fascinating to many isn’t just a love for numbers. It’s the thrill of the game, outsmarting others. It’s not just about watching numbers rise, but the satisfaction of beating the competition.

Lynch lowered his head. He struck a match with a flick—snap—and a wisp of white smoke rose. He took two puffs, flicked the match into the ashtray, then finally looked up with a broad smile.

He exhaled a puff of smoke and said, “Why not?”

Before the other could respond, Lynch went on with a smile. “I’ll reinvest every cent into building and operating the company, making it stronger and expanding its reach.”

He leaned back into the sofa, left arm resting on the backrest, right hand holding the cigarette on his crossed knee. He looked utterly relaxed, but radiated confidence.

“When our channels and coverage reach my expansion goals, I’ll shift gears and make us the largest distributor in the state—at the very least.”

“By then, people won’t just choose supermarkets and hypermarkets. They’ll have a new option—and arguably the best one.”

“Gentlemen, this isn’t just a secondhand goods business. It could eventually reach every corner of people’s lives.”

“Their appliances will come from us. Their furniture—from us. Even their homes, jobs, food, and clothing—us…”

“Honestly, when I quoted fifty million, it hurt. I wanted to raise it several times higher—maybe that would’ve scared you off.”

He looked serious, sincere, and a little helpless. “But I know—we’re all on the same side. At least for now. I understand how capital works. Cooperation is the only way to stand above others.”

“If you think the price is too high, I’ll regretfully accept that. But if you’re willing to join in—well, that’s what gives me a headache.”

The men exchanged glances. They felt Lynch was overselling a fantasy. Yet it wasn’t impossible. And that uncertainty was what made it frustrating—if it were clearly true or clearly false, it wouldn’t be so difficult.

Lynch then brought up secondhand leasing—a terrifyingly effective way to satisfy short-term consumer impulses.

Everything he described, along with his grand vision, stirred something in them.

The more he talked, the more they believed in the potential.

Lynch had outlined everything in such detail—points they hadn’t even thought of. It made them believe he had a comprehensive plan and was executing it step by step.

He had already taken the most critical first step. As long as he didn’t screw up, the window to cut in line would shrink drastically. Why? Because his business was part of Mayor Landon’s public benefit policy. His company was the clearest proof of whether that policy worked.

The better Lynch’s company did, the better it made Landon’s policy look. If it failed, it meant the policy might not be suitable.

But the only acceptable failure was Lynch’s own. If anyone tried to undercut him and caused the company to collapse, they wouldn’t just offend Lynch—they’d offend Mayor Landon and all his close allies and powerful backers.

Even if others copied his secondhand auction model, they’d face endless problems and could never scale. That would be far more troublesome than simply investing in Lynch.

Businessmen love money—not trouble.

“But fifty million is still too much. EverBright’s market cap is barely over a hundred million…” a man in a teal tie interjected.

EverBright was worth about 170 million—a local giant. Many people found that number impressive, yet not overwhelming.

This too was a bit of a conceptual sleight of hand. When society wants the public to believe in a corporation’s strength, they simply hide the liabilities. Politicians wanting to show progress during their term push successful companies as proof of economic growth.

So billion-Sol companies are born overnight. But most of them run on negative asset operations.

Banks lend them money. And to meet PR, political, or stock market expectations, those loans are repackaged as company assets—even part of their profit.

Media only reports what people are meant to see—never the debt behind the scenes.

But when it’s politically convenient to downplay a company’s influence, the valuation factors in debts, producing a much smaller net worth.

A company with ten billion in assets and nine billion in debt doesn’t seem that scary if you say it’s worth one billion. That way, if it collapses, people won’t panic. Instead, they might even sneer, That’s it? I thought they were something big.

Likewise, saying Our new company is already worth ten billion sounds way better than Our new company is already ten billion in debt.

Lynch stayed calm and composed. He gave a slight nod. “The Interstellar Trading Company has no bad assets—nor will it ever. Our profits can fully support our development.”

“Gentlemen, I’ve already begun establishing branches in other cities. By the end of the year at the latest, they’ll all be operational.”

“By then, we may still be sitting here—but the valuation won’t be fifty million. It’ll be five hundred million. Or more.”

It was already August—strictly speaking, less than four months left till year’s end. Lynch subtly used time and environmental pressure to create a sense of urgency.

A tenfold increase in just three months—they didn’t care whether it actually happened. They cared that it was possible.

Investors don’t want to grow old with a company. They want money—or something that benefits them.

Joining now and joining later are two very different things. And they knew—come year’s end, Lynch might really have the guts to stand in front of investors and boldly declare a valuation of five hundred million.

“We need to discuss this…”

A man in a pink tie spoke up. The others nodded. They needed time to consider how to use outside leverage to pressure Lynch—or reduce the price in some other way.

For example, they might leverage policy resources they control, or use methods like cross-shareholding—anything to minimize the amount of cash they need to put in. After all, given the current situation, no one’s pockets are particularly deep.