Chapter 189: Not Alone

A woman’s shyness feels different at various ages.

As little girls, their shyness is amusing and provokes laughter and protests.

In adolescence, their shy expressions make men’s hearts race, turning into a sweet, irresistible current flowing deep inside.

As adults, shyness transforms into something else, giving them a unique aura and grace.

Under Lynch’s gaze, Vera felt her cheeks heat up. Before she could figure out how to ease the awkwardness, Lynch grabbed her ankle, startling her.

She blurted out something she almost wished to faint over: “Even my husband never held my ankle like this!”

She wanted to explain but thought better of it; some things are harder to clarify the more you try.

Lynch didn’t overstep. He just examined Vera’s ankle, gently pinching the swollen area, which was warm and rapidly flushed.

He called a waiter for ice, wrapped it in a napkin, and pressed it to her ankle.

The cold touch was briefly uncomfortable, but soon the capillaries tightened, easing the pain and bringing comfort.

Looking at Lynch beside her, a frightening thought crept in, but she pushed it away, focusing instead on practical matters. “Looks like I won’t be able to go anywhere with you for the next few days.”

Sprained ankles are common, especially for women.

The first time wearing heels, most twist their ankles at least once, resulting in two days to a week spent bedridden.

If movement is necessary, a cane or crutch helps.

Lynch smiled and comforted her. Their work would take place at the Eminence Grand Hotel.

Eminence’s situation was growing unstable; Lynch had noticed smoke rising from a western building earlier. Though the fire was out, the streets were becoming dangerous.

Don’t assume everyone in a developed area is wealthy. Eminence had many poor, and these poor were more dangerous than elsewhere.

The poor in big cities endure heavy pressure. When the government and society help them just enough to survive, they don’t lash out.

But when neglected, class hatred fueled by vast inequality and harsh conditions ignites their anger.

So venturing out recklessly was unwise. The Eminence Grand Hotel had strong security and hosted branches of six major banks, offering currency exchange and daily banking services.

Vera relaxed a little hearing this; she feared her injury would affect Lynch’s work.

Later, Lynch half-carried Vera to a car, and they returned to the hotel.

After settling her, Lynch called George. George was glad to hear from him. “I thought you’d forgotten your old friend!”

“Friends don’t disappear with time; if they do, they weren’t friends,” Lynch replied. George’s situation was unusual.

Their collaboration earned George a performance bonus and a nomination for regional manager, stirring jealousy.

The bank was a small society. Though George had some achievements, whispers and even accusation letters alleging misconduct appeared.

Headquarters couldn’t ignore this. They sent an investigation team and limited George’s signing authority. His position remained, but his power was stripped.

Documents had to be reviewed by a new assistant before reaching him. Without that assistant’s signature, nothing progressed.

George’s standing plummeted. Colleagues and even businessmen who once greeted him vanished.

He felt miserable, so Lynch’s call was a rare bright spot—it proved he still mattered.

“You must need help. Say it, while I’m not yet sidelined…” Previously annoyed by requests, he now craved recognition.

A month had changed everything.

Lynch chuckled, aware of George’s plight. “I need someone well-connected in finance and reliable.”

Reliability was key. George thought briefly, then gave Lynch a name and number.

“This is my college roommate, same fraternity brother. We’ve always been close. He can help you.”

In Baylor Federation society, alumni and fraternity bonds were stronger than blood.

It might seem strange to some, but this was their culture—always had been, always would be.

After the call, George contacted his friend and explained the situation. Later, Lynch met him.

The man looked unapproachable—hooked nose, deep-set eyes gave a cold impression.

After brief greetings, Lynch mentioned a commission after the deal. The man smiled, softening his features and becoming more approachable.

In these darkest times, nothing moves people like money.

After Lynch explained his needs, the man, named Manson, said no problem.

“I work connecting investors and banks, with many solid institutional contacts. Your request isn’t difficult. But one question: how many bonds do you plan to buy, and how?”

Manson’s attitude gave Lynch a clue—he wasn’t surprised by Lynch’s actions, meaning he had likely already been surprised before.

“Are there others buying bonds besides me?” Lynch’s tone made it a statement, not a question.

Manson nodded. “There have always been buyers.”

Lynch didn’t foolishly ask why—they probably shared his ideas or had other bold plans.

His advantage was a firm grasp of global trends. People still thought airplanes would never be mainstream transport since early models only carried a few passengers short distances.

But Lynch knew airplanes would become the dominant mode, carrying hundreds far and wide.

Humans would even orbit satellites someday—though few believed or imagined it yet.

Some people naturally see beyond their time—those successful few who envision the future and dare to bet on it.

But this meant Lynch’s plan to buy bonds cheaply was ruined. “How are they buying them?”

Manson stroked his pale chin. “Between 2.5% and 3% of face value.”

Bonds with a face value of 100 Sol were being bought back for 2.5 to 3 Sol each. This showed these bond buyers were no small players—only those with hundreds or thousands in cash could afford this, since these were cash transactions.

Lynch nodded. “That price is reasonable. I need roughly…” He calculated, “about one million bonds with a 100-Sol face value.”

He specified the issuing country, a choice based on his research and analysis.

Manson thought for a moment and nodded. “If you specify the bonds, the price might carry a premium, but it won’t exceed 5%.”

Those willing to bet big like Lynch analyzed carefully to find the best opportunity before committing fully.

Lynch agreed. After briefly discussing transaction details, Manson began working for Lynch.

Manson’s involvement quickly became known. More people realized another gambler had joined this increasingly reckless game, boosting everyone’s confidence.

The logic was simple: the more participants, the more likely this would succeed. Lynch’s personal information circulated as people tried to learn about this new player.

At first, many found it hard to accept. This young man seemed like a character from a novel—too young, too irrational, and illogical.