Chapter 322: Punishment

Meow!

A sweetly named girl circled the boy like a cat and let out a cat-like meow only a feline could make.

A faint, indescribable intoxication appeared on the boy’s face. He waved to the girl, who was clearly older than him. “Come here. Let Daddy give you some sweetness.”

At his age, he could legally be a father in both the Federation and Nagaryll. In Nagaryll, he had once been a prospective father—until the girl who shared that forbidden fruit with him was drowned in a river by his father’s men, and he lost the chance.

For the High Priest, an unmarried child bearing a child was not a big deal; many ruling-class children had their first offspring in their teens. Young people simply couldn’t control their impulses, letting rampant desires rule their reason.

But he must never have relations with a lowborn girl, especially never let her get pregnant. That was absolutely forbidden. He would be ridiculed by the entire ruling class and could forget about inheriting the centuries-old power from the High Priest.

The ruling class would never tolerate a traitor born from a lowborn; such a child could become an enemy to the ruling elite. It was dangerous and meant total rejection.

Such a thing had happened before: a ruling-class man fathered a child with a lowborn woman. That child faced all kinds of discrimination.

Some broke down and destroyed themselves, but one chose to become stronger.

He impressed everyone with his excellence. Just when people thought he might inherit his father’s power, he declared that life is equal, and so are people, an absurd, laughable, ugly claim.

Since then, relationships between the ruling class and lowborn were allowed, but producing offspring was strictly forbidden—an iron rule.

The boy had rebelled, even saying they should die together. For a young man in love and about to become a father, his love for his partner and child outweighed worldly punishment and restraint.

Then he gave up when he watched his uncle throw his pregnant girlfriend into a waist-deep river to drown.

He saw the girl’s expression change—from fear, to struggle, to deathly calm. Within three minutes, it was over.

The calm river water churned with blood and filth, making it sickening. The boy felt not only disgust but fear.

His father calmly looked at him, stroked his hair, and said, “You’re most like me, so I’m giving you one chance. I respect your choice. But if you insist on going to trial with her, I will personally drown you here.”

“If you understand me, then come back with me. Forget that lowborn and bastard. I’ll find girls suitable for your status who know how to please you.”

“It’s time to choose, child…”

He was alive because he made the right choice.

When a man hates another, even breathing can be a cause for hate.

But when a man loves another, even breathing becomes a reason to forgive.

A strange feeling passed through him; his smile twisted.

The crawling girl was scared but obedient for the money. She even added some flair, showing the pride unique to cats.

She was a hardworking girl. Though she worked in sex trade, she was ambitious, spending her hard-earned money on acting classes.

The adult film Highway Rampage: Alien Invasion greatly inspired her. An adult film actress became a hot star overnight.

Though still often undressing, she was famous. Many showed their bodies, but their incomes differed drastically.

That girl now earned 150,000 per adult film. Candy, the cat girl, charged only 1,500 per job—her highest fee ever.

That was the difference. She was ambitious, applying what she learned in acting classes, but the boy wasn’t an art lover. He only wanted to satisfy twisted desires spiraling out of control.

A ruling-class boy raised in a country that disrespects human rights and treats lowborn lives as worthless couldn’t remain innocent.

Now he only wanted to vent destructive desires.

Around 1 a.m., Lynch saw the girl badly injured. The doctor said she was torn internally but the surgery was successful. She’d recover in about a month.

The psychological scars, however, would last a lifetime.

The boy wasn’t doing well either—though less badly than the girl—but he was beaten.

The girl’s agency beat him severely, even breaking the index finger of his left hand. If Lynch hadn’t arrived quickly, they might have broken all his fingers.

Seeing the angry boy after treatment, something brewed in Lynch’s eyes.

Perhaps he felt wronged or had never been beaten before. The boy nearly cried upon seeing Lynch.

They got along well at sea and had become good friends. He began to speak, “Lynch, you have to—”

Slap!

A slap nearly knocked him down. Lynch pulled back his numb right hand and grabbed the ring on the boy’s right index finger to hide the swelling on his palm.

The boy was stunned, looking at Lynch blankly. Then a dark shadow appeared. His head jerked violently, the world spinning. He nearly fell.

“Put him in the car,” Lynch ordered. Two strong men lifted the dazed boy and carried him away.

The agency manager in the hallway looked grim. An ambitious girl was a treasure for every company; they hated those who gave up and sank into ruin.

Those girls had nothing but fresh faces, and their value only dropped. Ambitious girls were different.

If they became stars—or at least leads in a low-budget flop—their market price could rise from 1,500 to 15,000 instantly.

But this boy almost ruined her. Even worse, they were helpless and had to apologize to Lynch—because they broke the boy’s finger.

For ordinary people, it wouldn’t be a problem, but the boy was Lynch’s. In influence and wealth, he outmatched them all.

The Baylor Federation was known as a paradise for the rich and a hell for the poor.

So they had no outlet for their frustration and had to apologize.

When the girl’s manager approached, Lynch stopped his apology and said something that surprised him, “Take me to see the girl. I want to apologize to her in person.”

The agent hesitated but ultimately couldn’t refuse Lynch’s request for various reasons.

In a regular hospital room, Lynch saw the girl looking miserable.

Due to treatment, she needed catheter assistance. Though it was a standard ward, in this era that meant constant comings and goings. Even girls working in such trades felt shame and discomfort here.

But there was no choice. Since medical groups hired massive lobbying teams to promote commercializing health insurance as the only way to provide the public with the best, most advanced, and most reliable medical care, many things had changed.

Unregulated medical costs soared, but service quality improved—at least for patients with private commercial insurance.

They had single or double rooms, spacious and bright, with dedicated nurses and doctors caring for them 24/7, plus individualized nutritious meals.

That was good. But patients still paying public health insurance premiums were placed in rooms with eight to twelve people. Besides patients, there were caretakers and visiting family, so almost everyone could see the girl’s most private areas and the catheters assisting her.

Lynch’s face darkened at this. Frowning, he called for the nurse and doctor, then pointed at the girl in the bed. “Give her the best room and care. I want all medical staff to be older, compassionate women. Provide her with the best treatment!”

The doctor initially seemed impatient but grew uneasy hearing the demands. He hesitated, asking, “Who are you?”

“You can call me Mr. Lynch.”