Chapter 89: Secondhand Goods Auction Fair

The next day, Saturday morning, Ferrell returned to the warehouse district, bringing along some items needed for setting up the exhibition.

There were large promotional posters linking the auction fair to the city hall and the mayor’s policies.

Surprisingly, the local newspapers featured articles about the secondhand goods auction, all tying the event to the mayor—stating it was organized and hosted under the mayor’s initiative by Lynch and others.

Though only a few sentences mentioned Lynch and his team, the mayor took full credit and even set a fallback plan: Lynch’s team included others, but their identities were unclear.

It could be three to five people or just Lynch alone; this ambiguity was likely necessary to help Lynch secure subsidies or policy favors.

What seemed like a backward system was actually surprisingly transparent. Since certain facts couldn’t be hidden, they made them appear more proper and by the book.

“Next Tuesday at noon, the mayor has forty minutes free; you can have lunch together,” Ferrell said, watching city hall workers arranging the posters as he spoke with Lynch.

He glanced at Lynch but saw no displeasure or negative emotion.

In the Baylor Federation, dinner was the most formal meal. Breakfast and lunch were usually brief to save time for other tasks.

Dinner carried special meaning—formal, grand, or abundant.

So meeting over lunch could imply disrespect for the occasion.

Ferrell expected Lynch to be unhappy or feel looked down upon.

He understood such feelings well. Most successful young people rarely faced setbacks except natural unavoidable ones. Any human-caused failure would anger them.

The more successful the youth, the more infuriated they became. Ferrell didn’t know if Lynch was hiding his anger or truly as calm as he appeared.

As a liaison between Lynch and the mayor, Ferrell explained dutifully, “The mayor originally wanted dinner, but the schedule was pushed back over a month, so…”

He shrugged, hoping Lynch understood how packed and complicated a politician’s schedule was.

“I understand,” Lynch nodded, not explaining that he genuinely didn’t mind dining with a minor official like the mayor at noon.

Before his time-travel, most of his daily dining companions represented eras or worlds—mayors of other dimensions. That was just how it was. He respected the mayor, but did not fear him.

Lynch didn’t elaborate, and Ferrell didn’t push. He began to settle into his new role.

Honestly, Ferrell had been confused, frustrated, and self-critical before leaving work yesterday.

But this morning, seeing 5,000 Sol transferred into his account, he suddenly felt lighter. Five thousand wasn’t small money, even for someone like him.

Though it couldn’t compare to the 75,000 Sol simultaneously donated to the mayor’s political fund, this 5,000 belonged to him alone—not the office or the mayor.

Accepting this identity and its benefits, Ferrell thought Lynch was a good young man—the first small capitalist to offer him friendship—and considered getting closer to him.

Mayoral aides like Ferrell met many capitalists who bridged power and wealth, but aides themselves held no power and rarely gained wealth.

Capitalists only invest money with those holding authority. Aides at best earned minor extras.

Did capitalists worry about offending aides who might badmouth them to powerful people?

No, because there was another special channel: brokers.

Most brokers came from upper-class society—social elites and former politicians—with deep ties in politics and finance. When capitalists needed to persuade, they didn’t use aides; they hired professional political brokers to handle everything.

This was a drawback for loyal aides like Ferrell: their power and glory were mere façades. When decisions were made behind the scenes, their opinions lost importance.

Only those who stood out greatly or served high-level federal politicians attracted serious capital investment.

The mayor wasn’t yet mid-to-high level in federal power, so Ferrell was only somewhat known by local businessmen.

He needed help too.

Soon, the venue was rearranged in under forty minutes by professionals who knew how to meet the mayor’s expectations.

Two large vertical posters flanked the stage, showing the mayor smiling brightly and giving thumbs-up, surrounded by various goods and discounts. The scene was somewhat exaggerated but clearly showed the mayor’s role.

For the lower classes, no deeper interpretation was necessary; to show cause and effect simply, one shows the chicken laying the egg, not the complex process.

“Alright, get ready…” Lynch nodded and waved for people to watch the blue-vested workers unloading from the warehouse.

The warehouse often lost items, so supervision was needed. Most blue-vest workers were honest, but a few tarnished the group’s reputation.

Ferrell didn’t leave immediately. He planned to wait for the auction to finish, gather firsthand information, analyze with other aides, and decide whether to invest more time and energy in Lynch.

They ate a quick lunch. By shortly after 1:30 pm, guests had already arrived.

They carried posters and immediately asked if they could exchange them for belts—Lynch’s strategy was clearly successful. The free giveaway was new and society hadn’t yet resisted it.

Staff, mainly Richard and his group, quickly welcomed and divided the guests among themselves.

Each poster was different; attentive observers would notice colored patches on the upper left of the back—red, yellow, purple, blue, and more.

These colors indicated different sales agents. Richard’s posters had gold foil in that spot, a personal paid upgrade to stand out.

Guests were assigned seats accordingly, and their purchase amounts tracked separately to ensure agents’ earnings were accurate.

This also gave agents a clear view that sheer numbers weren’t enough; customers had to have spending power.