Chapter 807: Another Party

The party hosted by the President was more like a small ceremony meant to reassure people—both others and himself.

Every presidential election is an uncertain affair. Until the final result is announced, no one dares to say they’re guaranteed to win.

There have been presidents in history with 70–80% public approval who still inexplicably lost elections. So unless the fruits of victory are firmly in hand, it’s best not to relax.

The President hoped to use this party to send a message:

I haven’t forgotten our agreement. I hope you’ll continue to support me.

Look how many people already do. Supporting me is your best choice.

That was the attitude he wanted to project.

Lynch spent the whole afternoon and post-dinner hours making casual small talk, though mostly listening to what the President had to share—internal and external updates from the government.

People often ask: why do the rich keep getting richer?

Because they have access to higher layers of society and get critical information faster than others.

Take the Eminence redevelopment plan, for example.

Every president needs some kind of legacy project to prove they were once here. Almost every president does it.

This President planned the same.

“Eminence’s current urban plan can’t keep up with the city’s development,” he said. “So I have some ideas.”

“If I win the election…” He smiled. “Which, of course, is inevitable. Once I’m sworn in, I plan to make this place…”

He paused, let out a meaningless hmm sound, as if searching for the right words.

“…make this place look more like the heart of a global superpower. We need Eminence to reflect its status both domestically and internationally. When people think of Eminence, I want them to feel something special.”

“I’m not sure if you understand what I mean…”

Everyone nodded politely. Lynch spoke up, “The Capital of the World.”

The President grinned, clapped his hands, and pointed at Lynch. “See? I knew someone would get it. Yes, Lynch, the Capital of the World—that’s a great way to put it!”

He burst out laughing. The project didn’t seem massive on the surface, but his ambitions went far beyond.

He wanted Eminence to become one of the most successful cities in the world, so that whenever people remembered him, they’d also remember the Federation under his term.

He wanted to be written into textbooks—not just part of history, but required knowledge for every student in the Federation.

Upon hearing this, some guests’ expressions subtly changed. A major urban transformation means profit.

A road, a building, a bridge—everything meant money.

Someone asked, “Mr. President, is there already a draft or concept plan?”

“Perhaps we can offer some help—within our capabilities, of course.”

This is why the rich get richer. While others don’t even know what’s coming, they’re already preparing.

Before the rain falls, these capitalists have already swallowed the clouds.

“Not yet,” the President answered quickly. “It’s just a concept. As for how and when, that’ll take time. Right now, the priority is securing victory.”

The party eased back into a relaxed rhythm, but everyone had other things on their minds.

Whether this was bait or a gesture of goodwill, it looked like a multi-billion-Sol opportunity.

Eminence’s redevelopment wouldn’t be easy. The key now was to buy up land around the area—either to await government acquisition or to resell to other investors.

Lynch was thinking about this too. There was plenty of room to maneuver.

January 2nd of the new year. The holiday was over, and work resumed. Eminence looked no different than it did yesterday, or any day before or after.

People rushed down the streets with briefcases in hand, no time to pause. That’s the rule of survival in the Federation’s core cities.

You can die, but dig your own grave and lie down yourself. Don’t waste anyone else’s time—especially not your own.

Here, even walking slower than others could cost you. If two salesmen were competing, the one who arrived second might end up sleeping on the streets by month’s end.

Time is money—nowhere is that more true than here.

Lynch had expected a few more days of rest, but surprisingly, Fox Jr. called him.

After offering New Year’s wishes, he invited Lynch to another party.

“I’m in Eminence now,” Lynch said. “If your party’s too far, I’m not going.”

If it were in Lardimore, he wouldn’t make it in time anyway.

“No, no, Mr. Lynch, it’s in Eminence. If you’re willing to come, I’ll send a car for you.”

“Eminence?” Lynch was a bit surprised. “Alright, what kind of party is it?”

Fox Jr.’s tone turned oddly playful. “An interesting one—you won’t regret it.”

It did sound interesting. Lynch agreed without much hesitation.

Soon after, a car arrived at the villa. Lynch and Austin got in, while the other bodyguards followed in a separate vehicle.

Even though federal statistics claimed Eminence had the lowest crime rate in the Federation, no one could guarantee they wouldn’t be that unlucky one.

Just a few years ago, Eminence had a string of attacks. The perpetrator? A laid-off middle-aged worker who’d been evicted after failing to pay his mortgage.

His wife also left him because he couldn’t even provide a place for them to live, a basic shelter from the wind and rain. In despair, he began to resent and attack the wealthy.

Over a dozen wealthy individuals were assaulted to varying degrees, with the most severely injured left permanently disabled.

The case should have ended in a death sentence. Whether he killed anyone or not, attacking the rich was considered more serious than insulting the President. The wealthy would never allow him to live.

That was also the public’s expectation at the time. But to everyone’s surprise, every one of the victims chose to forgive him.

Still, because his actions were too extreme, he was sentenced to ten years in prison despite the victims’ forgiveness.

Public opinion shifted slightly afterward, suggesting that the wealthy weren’t necessarily all bad—though if people knew the assailant’s life in prison was a living hell, they might’ve thought differently.

The forgiveness was only a tactic to give him hope. If his sentence had been centuries long or for life, he might have chosen a more extreme path.

But a short ten-year term with the possibility of parole gave him just enough hope to endure.

The wealthy even paid to have him transferred to a private prison and provided him with a professional medical team to ensure nothing happened to him.

What followed was endless torment.

Since then, the rich became extremely concerned with personal safety. Going out without bodyguards was out of the question.

The car carrying Lynch sped toward the Bay Area. Eminence is a coastal city, although its main urban zone sits a bit inland.

At the end of the year before last and the beginning of last year, someone in Eminence proposed building artificial islands in the inland sea bay.

At first, Lynch thought it was just a scam. Some rich people are drawn to unusual projects, and there’s always someone willing to invest. But eventually, even Lynch invested.

Surprisingly, the guy didn’t run. He actually started building the island—and even more incredibly, he succeeded.

After about forty minutes, the car reached the edge of the inland sea bay. Lynch, seated inside, had already noticed the island on the horizon.

It looked like a giant beast rising quietly from the sea, resting on the surface. In the distance, workers and construction machinery could be seen in action, with large ships transporting building materials across the water.

Austin, sitting beside him, also glanced curiously at the bay. She wasn’t particularly sensitive to such things and looked away after a few moments.

Their destination was a high-end community located in the inner bay. That’s where Fox Jr. was hosting his party.

The Bay Area was a wealthy neighborhood. Its main feature: the residents valued their privacy. The area was calm, almost quiet. Aside from vehicles, there were few pedestrians.

When they arrived, Fox Jr. was already waiting at the entrance. As soon as he saw Lynch get out of the car, he walked over quickly.

“Mr. Lynch, I’m so glad you came!” he said, shaking Lynch’s hand.

“What’s the occasion for this party?” Lynch asked as they walked toward the villa.

Fox Jr. didn’t hide it. “To celebrate our company’s profits exceeding expectations last year!”