Chapter 296: Attitude and Testing

Nagaryll’s weather warmed earlier than elsewhere. In early April, temperatures had already risen to around 27 or 28 degrees Celsius.

By the port, a group of local officials dressed in fine clothes paced back and forth, sweating heavily. They kept checking their luxury watches and glancing at the distant horizon.

Only when a cruise ship slowly approached did their faces relax into smiles.

Asel stood among them. These people had come specifically to welcome Lynch. Recently, Asel had been promoting Lynch’s intention to invest in Nagaryll and emphasizing his immense wealth.

Even a single company’s market value was tens of millions of federal sols—over two billion in Nagaryll currency according to the official exchange rate—an astonishing fortune.

Both the provincial governor and the High Priest urged Asel to encourage Lynch to invest locally. They promised Lynch the highest level of treatment and policies beyond the minimum requirements.

Privately, the governor told Asel through an intermediary that if he could persuade Lynch to finalize his investments, Asel might be awarded the Nagaryll Medal of Honor.

In Nagaryll’s history, only nobles received such honors. The Medal symbolized the transition from commoner to noble—a necessary rite of passage.

“That must be Mr. Lynch,” a local official said with admiration as Lynch approached. “So young and outstanding—I’ve never seen such a remarkable young man in Nagaryll!”

Before Lynch arrived, the officials were already flattering him. They were skilled at this; at least they excelled at flattery.

Due to the influence of theocracy, people naturally and enthusiastically praised their gods during religious festivals, which gave most of them an innate ability to flatter—smooth, passionate, and unrestrained.

Could Lynch hear it from so far away? It didn’t matter. These words were meant for Asel, an important intermediary. The officials wanted to show Asel their attitude toward Lynch so he would favor them, encouraging Lynch to invest more money here.

At a signal from one official, policemen adjusted their wide-brimmed hats, their badges gleaming in the sunlight, symbolizing state authority and justice.

The crowd at the port stiffened, faces growing tense. Children laughed and ran around, treating it like a game.

The police began clearing the area, swinging batons to drive away slow-moving locals, making a wide enough path for Lynch.

Lynch watched the ordinary people endure the beatings silently, not daring to curse, quietly driven off. A faint, subtle smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

Many countries care deeply about their image. Even if they are dictatorships, corrupt, or ugly, they strive to present themselves as respecting life and equality.

Their leaders obsess over their personal image and international opinion, fabricating impossible illusions to deceive the world and their people.

Their displayed ideals can never be realized—they weave dreams that remain just dreams.

Nagaryll was different. Here, they blatantly displayed their brutality and abuse of power. This, paradoxically, provided Lynch with fertile ground to grow.

When Lynch and his team approached and stopped about ten meters from the local officials, he removed his sunglasses.

His handsome face bathed in sunlight glowed like a mythical demigod. Some would endure a few blows just to get a closer look and lament divine injustice.

After a brief pause, Asel stepped forward. As Lynch extended his hand, Asel bowed slightly and shook it with both hands in humble respect.

“You’ve finally arrived!” Asel’s words carried urgency born from frustration, anticipation, and a search for truth.

Lynch smiled faintly. “Some things were delayed, but fortunately nothing troublesome.” His eyes swept over the officials behind Asel.

They also stepped forward humbly—except for one.

Asel introduced them. Nagaryll’s government was simple and crude—not due to backwardness.

Even the most backward regimes tend to refine their structures. Nagaryll’s problem was theocracy replacing some governmental powers, overlapping with political authority, and a struggle for control that gradually turned some functions into religious duties.

After meeting the city’s main department heads, Asel introduced Lynch to Mayor Mishehaye.

The name meant diligent in the local language, but the slightly overweight man with darker skin and a jewel-adorned hat showed little sign of diligence.

He was true Nagaryll nobility, one of many descendants in a powerful family, which was enough to secure the mayoralty.

His short, thick fingers and large hands were far from comfortable in a handshake, but his attitude was warm.

“Mr. Lynch, when Asel told me you would invest here, I prayed day and night for time to pass quickly.”

“We are not a developed country, so we hope you can help us grow together, prosper together…”

Official words, largely empty, but Lynch listened attentively as if he believed them.

After finishing, Mishehaye suggested Lynch rest before attending a dinner celebrating his arrival.

Lynch did not object. He needed the locals to get to know him first.

On the bus to the hotel, a local official who earlier introduced himself as the police chief spoke, abruptly darkening the previously relaxed atmosphere.

“Mr. Lynch, I must apologize.” The chief stood, removed his hat, and bowed. “To welcome you, I had the police disperse the crowd. This may cause you some misunderstanding of our country and society. I ask for your forgiveness and hope you understand this was an isolated incident.”

Asel glared angrily at Mishehaye, who fixed a cold gaze on Lynch.

This was not part of Asel’s reception plan—not the police clearing the crowd, not the whole episode.

Originally, they planned a thorough clearing, but both Mishehaye and Asel opposed it, fearing it would be too ostentatious. They agreed on maintaining order only.

Yet the police acted anyway. Asel was surprised but said nothing. He was already accustomed to such surprises.

Sometimes, habit is frightening—his anger had faded to calm acceptance in just half a month.

But what happened now was more than a mere accident. It was a test.

Behind this test lay Nagaryll’s rulers assessing Lynch’s attitude. If he had moral scruples, they might adjust their approach to secure his investment and technology.

If he showed understanding of their customs, they would need no changes.

All eyes watched Lynch. Removing his glasses, he looked at the bowing police chief with a playful, contemplative expression.Soon Lynch raised his hand and steadied the police chief’s arm, helping him straighten up. “You don’t need to apologize. Maybe what you did would be a serious crime in my country…” At this, Mishehaye’s brow furrowed slightly, and the other officials remained expressionless, though their eyes held a trace of mockery and ridicule.

But Lynch’s next words relaxed their faces naturally. “…but this is Nagaryll. I respect everything about this country—its culture, its customs.”

“Power and wealth exist to be enjoyed. We may enjoy them differently, but just because the methods differ doesn’t mean I oppose others enjoying them. In fact, it’s quite interesting. Can I expect to enjoy these privileges on future visits?” His smile made it hard to feel any resentment.

His response surprised them, even going beyond the scripted answers they had initially planned.

Before the police chief could figure out how to respond, Mishehaye took over. “Of course, Mr. Lynch, as our most honored guest, you deserve the highest level of treatment, including traffic control.”

“Traffic control?” Lynch found their definition amusing. “A fine term. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

Mishehaye’s smile grew more natural. “And I thank you for choosing to invest here…”