Chapter 73: Wherever Flies Buzz, They Find Cracks in the Eggs

The two walked through the warehouse piled high with goods. Mr. Fox was both pleased and troubled.

These items couldn’t be stacked together—they weren’t uniform. To stack them, they’d need racks, frames for each piece to prevent damage under weight.

That would cost a significant amount, plus labor and machinery expenses. Even if stacked, retrieving a single item would be a major operation.

So they lay spread out across the vast warehouse, with only small items occasionally placed atop heavier ones.

From tables and chairs to artwork like oil paintings, the warehouse contained nearly everything an average person might need in a lifetime. Lynch even spotted a set of silverware.

The set had delicate ivory handles and pure silver frames—six place settings neatly arranged in a large box, very pleasing to the eye.

Noticing Lynch’s gaze, Mr. Fox smiled. “An old lady brought that. It was a retirement gift from her son, but his business ran into trouble this year and she urgently needed cash, so…”

Lynch nodded—not because he understood, but because he knew everyone here was desperate for money, regardless of reason.

“I gave her seventeen hundred for the set. If you like it, you can take it,” Fox said, seeing Lynch’s interest. The amount wasn’t much to him, so he was unusually generous.

Lynch shook his head. “You overpaid. Ivory isn’t valuable, silver isn’t either. Two worthless things combined don’t suddenly become valuable.”

In this world, vast wilderness areas remain untouched by humans or technology, preserving nature’s original state.

Ivory, strictly banned for trade in another world, is here a fairly common mid-to-high grade material, not rare.

Fox was puzzled. He’d seen similar ivory and silver sets priced shockingly high in shops—two to five thousand—but thought seventeen hundred was already generous. He hadn’t expected Lynch to think it was too much.

“That old lady probably went to an antique store first, then came here,” Lynch said, walking on. “Fox, I don’t know how you view your job, but work is work. Personal feelings are personal and shouldn’t mix.”

“You have the right to pity and sympathy, but we can’t convert that pity into monetary value in business. Doing so causes trouble for many.”

Many who rise to power are initially immature, sometimes childish, unable to distinguish what should be expressed and what shouldn’t.

Fox might simply pity the old lady and overvalue her collateral, but the bank could reject the loan because of it, blocking about a thousand Sol, which would affect Lynch’s roughly one hundred fifty to two hundred Sol income.

That lost money, when reinvested, compounds losses further. Fox himself would lose much—all from an outpouring of sympathy.

“I see young Fox has a different view,” Lynch said, noticing Fox’s son’s dismissive expression.

Fox glanced at his son. Fox Jr. pressed his lips. “We helped that old lady out of sympathy. I’m proud of that, not ashamed.”

Fox’s eyes brightened, nodding approvingly. People like him, living in gray areas, often hold strange hopes.

They want their children to be stronger, tougher, ruthless, fearless, yet also kind, friendly, angelic.

That’s human complexity. Hearing his son, Fox looked back at Lynch, curious how he’d respond.

Lynch smiled. “I respect your attitude toward the world, but first we must see if the world is really as we perceive.”

“First, a family able to own such silverware wouldn’t solve problems by just pawning a set of ivory and silver. If a couple thousand Sol solved their troubles, they wouldn’t need financial services.”

Fox and his son paused. They’d overlooked that detail—a family who can afford thousands in silverware wouldn’t be so desperate that a couple thousand helps.

This was like Fox’s doubt about partnering with Lynch because Lynch didn’t have much cash—about a hundred thousand, which meant little to Fox.

Their expressions shifted.

Lynch raised two fingers. “Second, it seems you didn’t have anyone verify its authenticity…” Both Foxes grew awkward, and Fox nodded.

They’d been busy, no time to check. For them, whether real or fake, the loss was minimal, barely a loss at all.

Helping the old lady gave them spiritual satisfaction. Their souls felt elevated, so even if the money was lost or the items fake, it didn’t matter.

But Lynch exposed this flaw, and the uneasy feeling was like a child realizing a good deed led to bad results.

They were adults, so only awkward.

Lynch continued, “A poor old lady, collateral of unknown authenticity, a story full of holes…” His smile was mocking as he looked at Fox Jr.. “Do you still feel proud of what you did?”

Silence followed. Fox Jr. lowered his head. Fox pondered.

After a pause, Fox sighed. “From a business perspective, if someone truly needs help and we can provide it, we should.”

“Remember, only help those who genuinely need it—not scammers. I’m sure many fraudsters will try pawning worthless items soon. You’d better find experts quickly, or bank loans won’t get approved.”

“For anything you can’t verify, treat it all as fake…” He stepped forward. “Where were we?”

Fox and his son hurried to follow. “About handling the warehouse items…”