Chapter 328: Opposites

“Is that all?” The deputy chief, preparing for the evening banquet in the hotel, stood before the mirror adjusting his clothes. Though only a few hours had passed, small flaws had appeared on his outfit.

Of course, most people wouldn’t even notice—like tiny loose threads at some seams caused by excessive movement, a wrinkle inside the elbow of a sleeve, or a slightly misaligned shoulder pad needing adjustment.

These were minor details, but for perfectionists, no flaw was acceptable. Two tailors, wearing reading glasses, circled him closely.

Through the mirror’s reflection, the deputy chief’s gaze lingered briefly on Lynch’s face, then returned to himself, his chin slightly raised in a hint of vanity.

“I think I understand your point, Mr. Lynch. I appreciate your attention to these matters, but these minor issues we should overlook—there’s no need to inform me.”

“This is diplomacy between two nations, just a group of merchants. They can’t alter any of our decisions or even influence them.”

“But still, thank you, Mr. Lynch. I always believe attitude determines all success!”

His words, tone, and demeanor silently contradicted each other—he didn’t care at all. Lynch didn’t mind either; he was just doing his job.

After Lynch left, a hint of contempt flashed across the deputy chief’s face but was quickly masked.

He knew Lynch was close to Mr. Truman—that was why he instinctively disliked him.

Besides, he really thought the information was unimportant.

Establishing diplomatic relations with Nagaryll was an order from the presidential office, confirmed by the foreign minister. Once the state machinery was in motion, merchants held no real power.

Maybe they mattered before, but not now.

After leaving the room, Lynch went to see Mr. Truman. He felt it better to inform him. Here, he encountered a completely different attitude.

“This is important!” Mr. Truman had been resting, enjoying the sea breeze all morning. He had planned to rest longer but couldn’t sit still now.

He paced the room then stopped, staring at Lynch. “This information is crucial. I’ve been wondering why some media are opposing our stance.”

He briefly explained his view. Though the federal government didn’t loudly publicize diplomatic exchanges with Nagaryll, there was still some positive coverage.

But certain media constantly disparaged the diplomatic visit, smeared Nagaryll’s government, and loudly criticized the harms of establishing relations with a country like Nagaryll.

Some even claimed Nagaryll would drag down the federation’s development. The federation already had enough problems; if it had to support a poorer, less developed country, people’s lives would worsen.

This view had a market. The world always had some brainless fools who liked to be contrarian and prove their uniqueness by following anti-mainstream crowds.

These people typically saw conspiracies everywhere—politics, society—and believed governments were deeply corrupt and officials evil.

Give them some plausible-sounding reason to deceive themselves, and they could cause big trouble. After all, the federation was a free country.

If protests suddenly arose opposing the diplomatic relations, or people attacked the delegation’s motorcade or insulted them and their country, these fools could easily sabotage the diplomacy.

No cost required—just money to pay some idiots to charge ahead.

“I’ll handle it immediately…” He walked to the phone and called the Baylor Federation National Security Council without looking up. “Remember to close the door when you leave. Also, what was that man’s name?”

“Preyton!”

While Mr. Truman was contacting the security council, the Preyton they discussed had already arrived in the Baylor Federation and had been staying in Eminence for over a week.

“I like it here…” Preyton wore tourist clothes—a fashionable but informal floral shirt and formal shorts. The term was odd but undeniably trendy.

Not everyone could wear full formal suits in the hot weather, especially heavier people. The heat alone was enough to torment them; wearing full suits risked heatstroke.

Thus, formal shorts appeared—just half-length pants styled like formal wear.

Lynch found them awkward, but they were popular.

Preyton lounged on a water-filled sofa. He tapped it, causing ripples that shook the sofa, which he found amusing.

Around him sat several key partners or major shareholders of Preyton Trading.

Since Lynch arrived in Nagaryll, Preyton noticed him. Unlike previous merchants seeking opportunities there, Lynch was different.

Most who came to Nagaryll were failures in their home countries, burdened by debt, forced overseas to try again.

But Lynch wasn’t like that. Preyton immediately investigated his background. Learning Lynch had good business in the Baylor Federation, he knew Lynch wasn’t some good kid.

He was a wolf, or some predator—whatever, a carnivore.

He wouldn’t settle for repaying debts and becoming a nouveau riche in Nagaryll. He aimed for bigger profits.

A third-party probe confirmed this. Lynch wasn’t interested in joining Preyton Trading to earn stable money through quotas. That meant they were on different paths.

When some in Nagaryll began discussing whether to actively engage developed countries to help transform from an almost primitive farming society to partial industrialization, Preyton knew Lynch had something to do with it.

So he came. After receiving further intel, he arrived at the federation.

A renowned international businessman, he had many connections here. Recently, he signed countless checks, giving money to conservatives, socialists, media, and activists to promote the harms of establishing relations with Nagaryll.

He genuinely liked the place—he wasn’t lying.

In Gephra, officials feared bribes, worried about being caught by the imperial interior ministry or accused of corruption. Here, none of that mattered.

Labeling donations as political contributions to designated accounts was not only legal but protected by federation law—politicians must serve donors, unimaginable in many countries with strict laws.

Born in a monarchy, Preyton admired and envied the businessmen here.

“A relaxed environment, a population open to new things, and a passive government—this place suits business well. Too bad we found out too late.”

“But that won’t stop me from liking it. Look at this water sofa and water bed—remind me to take some home. After sleeping on these, I don’t want to touch spring mattresses again!”

Mr. Preyton sighed, “If it weren’t for those traitors who betrayed my friendship, I might never have come here. Should I thank them?”

The people around him chuckled, though the words were far from funny.

After a while, Preyton fell silent, staring at the familiar faces on the TV.

He refused to accept a certain truth—he denied that Preyton Trading was the third ruling class after Nagaryll’s regime and the theocracy. But no matter how much he denied it, the fact remained.

He had always taken pride in the fact that both politicians and clergy came to him for favors. Now, that pride was about to be shattered—and he would not allow it.

Once Nagaryll established diplomatic relations with the Baylor Federation, Preyton Trading’s position would become awkward. Orders could be placed directly with the federation, cutting away Preyton’s foundation in Nagaryll.

The decades of effort and empire-building they had worked for would be wiped out by a single diplomatic agreement. How could they possibly allow that?

He would do everything in his power to stop it.