Blackstone Code
Chapter 312:

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"Father, did everything go well?"

As soon as Simon stepped into his house, he was greeted by his younger son's inquiry. Simon had two sons—one from his legal wife back in his home country, the elder of the two, and another from a local woman here in Nagalier.

In this era, people often referred to merchants who ventured abroad as "adventurous speculators." Some even called themselves "descendants of adventurers." But deep down, they all knew the truth.

Few ventured out purely for ambition; most were driven by necessity. The world was still unsafe, travel inconvenient, and it wasn't an age where one could reach most corners of the globe within a day or two. It was a backward time, fraught with danger.

If given the choice, no one would willingly leave behind the familiar comforts of home to risk their lives in unfamiliar lands. Yet, they had no other option—they were failures, including Simon himself.

Simon had once owned a processing plant, but poor management led to its collapse. Bankrupt and desperate, he left his family behind and set off alone to rebuild his life. His wife and firstborn remained in their homeland while he wandered across countries for over twenty years, finally finding opportunity in Nagalier.

To better integrate into local society, Simon married a native woman and fathered another son. This second marriage helped him gain acceptance among the locals and provided some advantages for his business. His original family back home knew about this arrangement. Though there were occasional complaints, they mostly stayed silent—after all, their livelihood depended entirely on the monthly remittances Simon sent them.

His new family in Nagalier also knew about his first wife and child. But here, such arrangements weren't uncommon. In the local culture, capable men often took care of multiple women and sired many children—it was seen as normal, even admirable. Both families coexisted separately, rarely interacting beyond a few formal encounters.

Simon glanced at his younger son waiting by the door. His expression remained unchanged as he handed over his briefcase without answering. After changing his shoes, he walked straight into his study.

The younger son followed closely behind. Once inside the study, Simon finally shook his head. "You don't need to know about these matters. How is your schooling coming along?"

The boy clenched his jaw slightly, lowering his head with a proud smile. "My teacher says I should be able to get into Nagalier National University!"

Nagalier National University was the top institution in the country, attended by the children of the ruling elite. To ensure the best education, many of its teachers were recruited from abroad. Locals held contradictory views: wary of foreign influences yet envious of what outsiders brought, especially in education. Foreign educators were often considered superior, giving the university immense prestige.

Simon's younger son excelled academically, working hard and benefiting from his wealthy background. Teachers treated him with extra patience, sometimes offering private tutoring. He consistently outperformed his peers. Over the years, he'd strived to prove his worth to Simon, driven by his father's high expectations.

He avoided indulgences like early romance, alcohol, or smoking, keeping himself fit despite Simon's occasional disdain for overweight individuals—even though Simon himself wasn't exactly slim. Religion held little sway over him either. All he wanted was to show Simon that he was his finest son. Nothing more.

But sometimes, effort alone isn't enough to overcome prejudice.

Simon frowned. "National University? To me, it's nothing but a third-rate school. If getting into a mediocre university makes you so proud, then your future is already limited."

He paused, waving dismissively. "Enough. Go do your work. I have business to attend to."

The younger son forced a smile, placed the briefcase on the desk, bowed deeply, and left the room.

Simon saw the boy's efforts, but deep down, he viewed him differently—a "bastard," if you will. Harsh as it sounded, it summed up the situation accurately. The younger son was a product of convenience, born not out of love but necessity, a tool to ingratiate Simon with local powers. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't change that reality. From the start, Simon never truly regarded him as his own flesh and blood.

The boy's darker skin, distinct features, and mannerisms reminded Simon daily of his utilitarian origins. And when someone is fundamentally rejected at their core, even the smallest imperfections are magnified and despised.

As the door closed softly behind him, the younger son clenched his fists tightly. For a fleeting moment, his face betrayed frustration before smoothing into a practiced smile. He resolved to keep trying. One day, he believed, his father would see him for who he truly was.

Inside the study, Simon paid no mind to his son's inner turmoil. What concerned him now was Lynch's attitude.

Lynch's stance troubled him. If Lynch reached an agreement with the Provincial Governor, it wouldn't just mean losing business—it could bring serious trouble. International traders weren't as easily fooled as the locals, whose contracts were loose and informal. In international trade, delivery times were precise to the minute. A single delay could trigger claims under the contract. With Lynch cutting off his supply chain, Simon faced not only lost profits but potential lawsuits.

He couldn't afford to sit idle.

Picking up the phone, Simon dialed Pretton's number. Nagalier had a rudimentary communication network, though international lines were nonexistent. The call connected quickly, and Pretton's smooth voice came through the receiver.

"How did things go with Lynch?" Pretton asked—a question Simon's younger son had posed earlier.

To Pretton, the outcome seemed inevitable. Lynch didn't have many options, so his tone carried a casual ease.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Pretton," Simon began, wiping sweat from his brow. "Mr. Lynch said he needs time to consider... He seems rather indifferent to our proposal."

"Indifferent?" Pretton's voice shifted slightly. Just as Simon thought this might bode well, disappointment struck again.

Pretton chuckled audibly. "What an interesting young man. Did you know he's only twenty-one? You can't negotiate with him the way we do. We're not on the same 'frequency.'"

"But don't worry, Simon. Young people dislike rules and love challenging authority—it's in their nature. After hitting a few walls, he'll learn how to make choices."

"Keep me updated on any developments..."

Pretton was a busy man. He didn't have time to waste discussing provincial trade agents. Hanging up, Simon stared blankly at the silent phone before placing it back on the cradle. Perhaps Pretton was right; things would resolve themselves eventually.

Sitting at his desk, Simon's thoughts wandered. He recalled the envy in his friends' eyes during visits back home. He thought of the distant relationship with his elder son, who only smiled when presented with checks. He remembered the private investigator's report about his first wife's affair—a fact he chose to ignore. And then there was his younger wife here, and their son, whose presence irritated him daily.

Lost in these musings, Simon drifted off to sleep without realizing it.

---

Meanwhile, starting the day after Lynch returned, local merchants began flocking to him, eager to showcase their goods. Mishahaya's words to Lynch hadn't just caught the attention of big players like Pretton—they'd ignited hope among the local traders.

Every year, Pretton Trading House set fixed acquisition prices, buying goods cheaply from local merchants and selling them globally at exorbitant rates. Despite knowing they were being exploited, the locals had no recourse. Other major traders adhered to the same pricing system, ensuring maximum profits for everyone involved.

But now, something had shifted. For the first time in years, the local merchants saw a glimmer of hope—a chance to break free from the chains that bound them.

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