Chapter 294: Change

“Are you leaving?” Vera looked at Lynch in surprise, not understanding why he suddenly planned to leave the Federation.

From Lynch’s serious tone in telling her, it seemed the absence wouldn’t be brief. “Will you be gone a long time?”

Lynch nodded while peeling a common fruit that a year ago this family wouldn’t have bought unpeeled.

They usually shopped at exclusive supermarkets—

In the Baylor Federation, some supermarkets targeted the middle class, screening customers by charging membership fees ranging from 150 to 500 annually, dividing shoppers into tiers.

Did that mean their goods were better?

Not necessarily. But these supermarkets created a premium atmosphere and offered services customers didn’t think of—like peeling fruit.

Whether hard-shelled or soft fruits, some people couldn’t manage them, so employees dressed like surgeons peeled, sliced, arranged, and packaged the fruit in front of customers, ensuring they could eat it right at home without extra effort.

Such services appealed to higher-income groups willing to pay for convenience, reflecting a middle-class lifestyle: earning more and using money to elevate their social status.

The situation had changed. After divorcing Gap, Vera retained some main assets, but only part.

Gap voluntarily gave up all assets, walking away empty-handed, though the court rejected this claim. Their family savings, stock accounts, and shared assets—including half the house—were seized.

Originally, the house was to be taken too, but Vera bought it back, paying about half the market price, which tightened her finances.

Now she knew how to choose: unpeeled fruit at one pound per unit or peeled fruit at five Sol ninety-eight cents per pound.

Lynch tossed the peel into the trash, biting into the sweet fruit, nodding. “I’ll be gone about three to six months. Maybe I’ll come back early, maybe later…”

He licked the juice at his fingers and said, “I’m telling you now because I won’t be in the Federation during that time. You need to keep an eye on the company’s accounts. Understand?”

Seeing Vera momentarily stunned, he quickly ate the fruit, wiped his hands, and said, “Those on the board don’t share my vision. I’ve arranged everything except the finances. Only you can be trusted there.”

More than two months ago, he’d found a suitable manager through connections—a young man named Joyce, 35, at the peak of his energy and intellect.

Ambitious and strong-willed, Joyce wasn’t easily controlled by the board.

He avoided typical young mistakes and, motivated by ambition and hopes for the future, wouldn’t risk tarnishing his career. With Lynch’s controls, major problems were unlikely.

While the board posed no issues, finances were vulnerable. Without someone trustworthy, small tricks could drain Lynch’s company. Vera’s role was crucial.

Lynch’s serious demeanor left no room for doubt. After a pause, Vera nodded without excuses.

Having been through so much, she realized the road ahead would be tough. Raising a child alone was impossible without help.

Better to work loyally with someone she knew than cautiously cooperate with strangers.

That settled the matter. After a silence, Vera suddenly mentioned Lynch’s plan, “If you’re gone that long, you’ll miss the new semester!”

Lynch once said he planned to study further, especially at a Saint Harmony university. Vera knew what that meant—everyone did.

The Saint Harmonry held immense influence in Federation society. From celebrities to politicians, capitalists to scholars, most top figures were members or connected.

People often joked that the Saint Harmony secretly controlled the Federation and beyond, reflecting their status.

Joining was easiest through these univeristies, which acted like exclusive supermarkets, filtering members.

Students who could afford these univeristies usually came from at least middle-class families with advantages: networks, wealth, status.

These already exceptional students competed to join the Saint Harmonry, ensuring every new member was elite.

They refreshed the network, subtly shaping the Federation’s power structure.

Of course, nothing was absolute. Vera’s doubts were met only with Lynch’s smile: “I have my ways…”

If his business in Nagaryll succeeded, it would prove his radical theories right.

He could then donate some money and secure a nominal spot at a Saint Harmonry Univeristy—those in power wouldn’t object.

Most non-secret societies aimed to expand influence, and so did the Saint Harmonry.

They never hid; they wanted to be known, held semi-public events, and welcomed gossip. Their goal was influence—and Lynch had that ability.

He was destined to ride the wave of the era. No one or nothing could wield more influence. The Saint Harmonry would invite him in.

Vera knew less than Lynch but understood his plans. She forced a smile, tired after recent ordeals—a soul-deep fatigue.

After leaving Vera’s house, Lynch visited Nail, his father, needing his help.

His parents had moved out of their old neighborhood, seizing the financial downturn to buy a detached house in a middle-class community at a low price.

Lynch understood his parents’ reasoning, reflecting the deepest, most urgent desire of Baylor’s lower class—a big house.

The cramped public housing in the lower district made every home a box. Small families managed, but bigger ones turned living rooms into bedrooms at night, making life difficult.

People’s craving for big houses outweighed their urge to spend recklessly. So once Nail had money, his first move was selling the old cramped house for a larger one.

Nail now was very different from months ago; he was learning how to be the man of status Lynch once viewed with skepticism.

Most people who rise from the bottom go through the same process Nail experienced. They believe that if they become managers, humane leadership and friendliness will earn workers’ loyalty, creating a relatively harmonious environment where everyone works hard together.

But that’s not how it really works. At first, Nail worked alongside the workers, thinking leading by example would motivate them.

He improved their wages, added large chunks of beef to their lunches, and provided free juice and fruit.

Yet, besides calling him a fool, the workers didn’t become more motivated; some secretly mocked him as putting on a show.

Then Nail realized that rules and punishment were needed to control lazy workers—efficiency came from fear, not passion or friendship.

This is the inevitable path from naïve to mature management.

Nail and Serra welcomed Lynch. After Serra spoke with Lynch for a while, she went to prepare dinner for the men, leaving Nail and Lynch in the living room.

Nail wore sharp, clean clothes—a stark contrast to the shabby outfit he wore months ago.

“Anything you need me to do?” Nail asked casually.

After months as a construction company manager, Nail understood some things and felt Lynch wouldn’t visit without reason.

Lynch adjusted his seat, nodded, and said, “There is something. Remember the incident two or three months ago at the factory where you used to work? The thieves…”