Chapter 820: Image

Many people outside politics often believe that getting close to the president and becoming part of the president’s circle is highly meaningful.

In reality, it’s not. Every president has a strong personal political identity, and once someone is labeled as part of the president’s circle, their future prospects can become more difficult.

It involves many issues—political alignment, ideology, faction, team dynamics…

Even within the Progressive Party, there are internal factions. Right now, the president’s circle is in favor—but what about in the future?

When the president eventually retires, what happens to those left behind?

The most common move for a successor is to attack the previous administration’s mistakes—even without concrete reasons. It has become a kind of ideological ritual.

Just like the current president, who, after taking office, vehemently criticized the policies and governance of his predecessor, reducing the once-popular conservatism to escapism.

He claimed the country’s rapid development under the previous administration was just for show, ignoring the hidden risks behind economic growth.

Accusations of lying were rampant. The previous president promised education reform but failed to deliver.

He claimed he would improve workers’ welfare but only achieved a fraction of that.

In eight years of governance, mistakes are inevitable—and those mistakes are magnified and used as ammunition by the successor.

Now, people believe they were deceived by the former president for six whole years.

This tactic works—and it will keep working.

Wrong policies, wrong beliefs, wrong actions, wrong decisions…

Powerful politicians might not care about such attacks, but people like Katherine, more often than not, end up as collateral damage.

Just like the staffers who recently left the presidential office with their personal belongings. They gave six years to the country.

Now, instead of gratitude, they’re met with hostility. Due to lawsuits involving the former president, they might even be implicated—perhaps as the most obscure co-defendants.

Rather than carry that label and struggle through future political life, it’s better to leave early.

It’s not that no one succeeds this way—but those who do are few, and they all have powerful backing.

Katherine doesn’t have that kind of support. Aside from Lynch, no one is going to stand behind a girl with a clean background like hers. That alone disqualifies her from this path.

“I really don’t care about any of this. Didn’t you already tell me your plans for my future? And none of them included the presidential office.” Katherine stopped and looked at Lynch.

People usually dislike having their lives planned out for them—like an 18-year-old music lover forced to become a chef, with his father already naming the family’s first restaurant.

But if those plans bring her closer to Lynch, then maybe they aren’t so hard to accept.

Lynch nodded and gently touched her face. She tilted her head, leaning into the warmth of his hand.

“You’ve already had a great start. When Ms. Tracy took you on TV recently, you left a strong impression. Now we need to build on that.”

Lynch looked at her. “I’m doing all this to bring us closer. But if you’re tired of it, we can stop.”

Katherine shook her head. Sometimes she questioned whether it was all worth it.

But she knew it was. Ever since Lynch became successful, she understood that he’d never say no to her if she asked for something.

But she wouldn’t ask—just like she told her friends back in school: she won Lynch once before, she could win him again now that they were in the real world.

In a way, their relationship had grown beyond romance. It was somewhere between love and family.

Despite the little bumps along the way, the future looked bright.

Katherine didn’t object. Lynch took her hand and led her away from the press at the main gate, heading toward the presidential residence’s back garden.

Behind the residence was a small garden reserved for the president and senior officials to relax or hold private conversations.

It was empty now, filled with the scent of fresh grass and earth. The sky was blue, the sun warm—everything was perfect.

“Ferrell is resigning around April or May.”

Katherine was starting to get into the rhythm. “But isn’t he doing well? I heard employment in Sabin City bounced back fast under his administration. People say he’s done a great job.”

Lynch shook his head. “Whether someone can stay in office has nothing to do with their actual abilities.”

“A cat, a dog—if they have the right owner, they can be mayor, councilman, even governor.”

“Ferrell has to step down because the governor’s nephew wants that seat—or rather, the governor wants it for him. So Ferrell’s out.”

“He’ll probably reach out to me. We still have some unfinished business. I’m thinking of using this chance to help you land your first official job.”

Lynch stopped beside a tall green hedge and looked at her. “City councilor for Sabin. It’s not a high starting point, but for us, it’s just right.”

He kept walking. Katherine was still a rookie when it came to these things. Though she had been exposed to top federal matters over the past few months, she still needed to learn about the kinds of deals that never make it onto paper.

“Youth is your greatest asset. Your future is full of possibilities—but in politics, youth can also be a liability.”

“If you start too high, or rise too fast, it draws criticism.”

“Sabin’s not a big city. You’ve interned at the presidential office for a year, interacted with the top federal departments, cabinet members, even the president himself…”

When Lynch said “interacted with the president,” Katherine couldn’t help but laugh.

“Lynch, I just realized—you’re really like those politicians!”

Lynch laughed it off. “It’s basic political skill—learn how to talk strategically.”

“If you tell people you were just serving coffee or handing out cookies to big shots, they’ll see you as a decorative piece.”

“But if you say you exchanged work experience with those same big shots, they’ll take your opinions seriously. They’ll respect your stance.”

“When we don’t have authority yet, we need to establish some connection with it.”

“When others respect authority, they’ll also show a bit of respect for our stance.”

Katherine nodded thoughtfully. Lynch’s words gave her a sudden sense of clarity, as if a fog had lifted.

She had gained a lot over the past few months, but she couldn’t organize or summarize those experiences into usable insight on her own.

Now, with one sentence, Lynch helped her understand part of it—for example, “the art of speaking is part of politics.”

Combining that with past materials and the discussions she’d witnessed in meetings with high-ranking officials, Katherine quickly grasped some key truths.

Like how no one ever talks about crime rates—they only talk about the case-solving rate.

Politicians won’t tell the public how many crimes happen each day. They’ll only say the case-solving rate has improved, which makes people feel safer.

The two kept walking.

“You already have some valuable experience. With a bit of maneuvering on my part, securing a council seat in Sabin City won’t be a problem.”

“You should leverage Ms. Tracy’s influence in women’s organizations. Promote yourself as the first female city councilor in Sabin. That will get you a lot more attention…”

Lynch patiently guided Katherine on how to enter the political world, and how to take the first step once she was in.

Katherine’s persona was very appealing.

These days, whenever people talk about politicians, they inevitably bring up the political faction they belong to or the kind of powerful, unreachable background they come from.

Katherine didn’t have any of that—just an ordinary federal girl from the bottom of society.

Her mother still worked odd jobs, and her father was a warehouse manager. That kind of unprecedented authenticity made her more relatable to the lower classes. It was her greatest advantage.

But it was also her biggest weakness. She lacked political capital and upward mobility. Without Lynch, if she pursued politics on her own, becoming a state legislator would already be a miracle.

More likely, she’d spend her life as a city mayor and retire from there.

The old-school thinking in politics still held that women weren’t suited for the political path—that their emotions and softness would ruin things. Female politicians rarely received support, which is why so few ever made it far.

Fortunately, Lynch could help her. While he couldn’t guarantee everything, getting her into Congress would not be difficult.

After chatting for a while, Lynch left—he still had other matters to attend to.

The Nagaryll delegation that had come to experience the Federal lifestyle was scheduled to leave by ship that evening.

They had stayed for almost a month—originally only planned for two weeks. But because one of them turned out to be an Akumari, Lynch had allowed them to stay longer.

Before they left, Lynch wanted to meet with them.

These people would become loyal followers of Lynch and the Federal ideology. They would return home and spread the word about everything they had experienced.

They would become a trend. A movement.