Chapter 312: When You Hate Someone, Even Their Breathing Is Wrong

“Father, did everything go smoothly?”

Just as Simon returned home, his second son asked. Simon had two sons—one from his lawful wife in his home country, his eldest.

In this era, merchants who ventured abroad were often called “speculative adventurers.” Some even claimed to be descendants of adventurers, though only they truly knew.

Few went abroad by choice; most were driven by necessity. The world was still unsafe and transportation inconvenient—this wasn’t an era when most places could be reached in a day or two. It was quite backward.

No one risked leaving a familiar environment for a strange, dangerous one without cause.

But they had no choice. They were all failures—including Simon himself.

Simon had once run a processing factory but went bankrupt due to poor management. With his remaining savings, he set out to try his luck elsewhere.

Because it was so dangerous, his wife and children stayed behind; only he left alone.

After more than twenty years struggling abroad and traveling through many countries, he finally found an opportunity in Nagaryll.

To better integrate locally, he married a local woman and had a son. Establishing a local family helped him be accepted and boosted his business.

His wife and children back home knew this, sometimes resentful but mostly indifferent.

The long separation was hard, and their livelihood depended entirely on Simon’s monthly remittances. Even if they thought it unfair, they never voiced it.

His local wife and child also knew about his other family and didn’t mind. Local culture accepted that capable men might take several women and have many children.

They all knew each other but had little contact aside from a few meetings.

Simon glanced at his son waiting by the door, his expression still unchanged. He handed his briefcase to his son without a word, changed shoes, and went straight to his study.

His son followed. Inside, Simon shook his head. “These things you don’t need to know. How’s your schoolwork?”

His son smiled faintly, lowering his head. “My teacher said I should be able to get into Nagaryll National University!” His tone carried pride.

Nagaryll National University was the top university locally. Many children of the ruling class studied there. To ensure the best education, many teachers were from abroad.

Locals, including the ruling class, were wary of outside affairs yet envied some foreign things—a contradiction, especially regarding education.

Foreign teachers were undeniably better than local ones… which gave the national university a prestigious reputation.

Simon’s son was a good student, hardworking, and from a wealthy family. Teachers were patient with him and sometimes gave him special attention. He outperformed many classmates.

For years, he tried to prove himself to Simon, driven by his father’s expectations, studying seriously.

Because Simon had spoken harshly of fat men—and his son was overweight—he kept himself healthy.

He didn’t date early, didn’t drink or smoke, and religion barely influenced him. He just wanted to prove he was his father’s best child, nothing more.

But sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you can’t overcome prejudice.

Simon frowned. “National University is a third-rate school in my eyes. If getting into a third-rate school makes you this happy, that’s as far as your future goes.”

He paused, growing impatient. “Alright, go do your things. I have work to do.”

His son forced a smile, set the briefcase on the desk, bowed, and left.

Simon had always noticed his son’s efforts, but this hybrid—to use a harsh but accurate term—was a mixed-race child.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t change the fact that his birth was a gesture Simon made to appease local powers in Nagaryll.

He was not a natural product of love, but a tool. From the start, Simon never truly saw him as his son.

His skin was darker than Simon’s and his eldest son’s, his features different, his body language different…

When someone is denied at their root, even trivial matters are magnified and resented.

The door closed slowly behind the bowed son. He clenched his fists, but as he looked up, his negative emotions turned into a smile. He would keep trying. One day, his father would see him for who he truly was.

Inside, Simon was unaware of his son’s feelings. He cared only about Lynch’s attitude.

Lynch troubled him. Honestly, if Lynch reached an agreement with the provincial governor, it wouldn’t just mean losing business—it could cause real trouble.

International merchants weren’t as easy to fool as locals, who were inexperienced and had loose contracts.

In some international trades, delivery times were precise to the minute. Missing by even one minute allowed claims for damages. If Lynch cut off his sources, Simon would lose profits and face compensation claims.

He couldn’t sit still.

He picked up the phone and dialed Mr. Preyton. Nagaryll had a modest communications network but no international lines.

The call connected quickly. Preyton’s magnetic voice came through. He asked the same question Simon’s son had just asked: “Was your exchange with Lynch smooth?”

To Preyton, it wasn’t a matter of smooth or not. Lynch had few options. So his tone was casual.

“Sorry, Mr. Preyton. Mr. Lynch said he needs time to think…” Simon wiped sweat from his temple, squinted, and added subjectively, “He seems indifferent to our proposal.”

“Indifferent?” Preyton’s tone shifted. Just as Simon thought this was good, he was disappointed.

Preyton laughed aloud. “Interesting young man. You know, he’s only twenty-one. You can’t communicate with him the way we do. We’re not on the same frequency.”

“But don’t worry, Simon. Young people don’t like rules and love to challenge authority. After a few setbacks, he’ll learn how to choose.”

“Keep me updated on any progress…”

Preyton was very busy. He had no time to waste talking with a provincial agent about minor matters. Many things demanded his attention.Staring at the now silent phone in his hand, Mr. Simon zoned out for a moment before placing it back on the receiver. Perhaps Mr. Preyton was right—things would eventually be resolved.

Sitting behind his desk, Simon’s mind grew restless. He thought of the envy and jealousy he saw in his friends’ eyes when he visited home.

He thought of the cold relationship with his eldest son, who only smiled when receiving checks, the child resembling Simon in his youth.

He recalled what his private detective told him—that his wife back home might have a lover—and he chose to ignore it.

He thought of his young wife here and the son who wasn’t like him and often tested his patience.

Lost in these thoughts, he didn’t realize he had fallen asleep…

Starting the day after Lynch returned, local merchants began bringing their goods to Lynch, showing him their products.

Misehayeh’s conversation with Lynch not only caught the attention of major figures like Mr. Preyton but also gave local merchants a glimmer of hope.

Every year, Preyton’s firm set a fixed purchase price, buying large quantities from local merchants at prices barely bearable to them, then selling at much higher prices worldwide.

Even though local merchants knew about this price manipulation, they were helpless. Both Preyton’s firm and other major merchants tacitly followed this pricing scheme to maximize profits.

This made local merchants suffer, forced to watch their goods sold at many times their price with no recourse.

Now, however, they seemed to see new hope again.