Blackstone Code

Lynch's lighthearted remarks, filled with kindness and truth, prepared both of them for the upcoming conversation. By now, they had left the city hall, entered the parking lot, and were seated in Ferrall's car.

In the confined space, a sense of security seemed to settle over them. Ferrall slightly lowered the window and lit a cigarette. "The Workers' Union is organizing another round of protests soon. Did you know that?"

Lynch shook his head. He had only been back for a few days and had no interest in the workers' situation. He didn't have any friends in the union and simply didn't care, so it was no surprise that he hadn't heard about their latest plans.

The workers' agitation largely stemmed from the harshness of the current times. With an unemployment rate as high as 20%, the entire Sabin City was in a terrible situation.

People walked the streets listlessly. Some tall men had grown so thin that they were little more than skin and bones. After walking just a few steps, they had to sit down to rest. The lack of physical strength made even walking a burden.

Oddly enough, Sabin's public safety had improved significantly. Veterans had filled the gaps left by the striking police officers. They were far more efficient and much tougher than the regular officers previously hired.

The former police officers were often familiar with the local underworld figures. From a certain angle, this helped them solve crimes faster when incidents occurred, but it also led to issues, such as leaked information or personal favoritism.

But now, all of that was gone. The new police force had swept the streets in an unprecedented way. The remaining street figures had retreated to their homes, and those who stayed behind no longer had the strength to commit crimes, leading to better public safety.

Yet, these changes couldn't alter one fundamental truth: people were without jobs. And in times like these, work was more important than anything.

Even the newspapers reported shocking stories. For instance, a teenage girl had slept with a fifty-year-old chef just to secure a job as a waitress.

In another case, two generations of women in a family were arrested for illegal solicitation. Under pressure from judges, society, and public opinion, both the mother and daughter chose to end their lives together.

Too many things piled up, all leading back to the same point—without jobs, it was impossible for society to truly stabilize. The purpose of the workers' union's protest was clear: they wanted the city hall to provide jobs so that families in dire need wouldn't be driven to crime.

From a moral and ethical standpoint, their demands were entirely reasonable, even admirable. But the method of their demands was less palatable, leaving the mayor deeply troubled.

"The mayor told me that you've come up with a new employment system for getting people to work for you…"

Before Ferrall could finish, Lynch interrupted him. "No, no, it's not employment. I have to correct the misunderstanding you and the mayor have. It's a partnership."

Patiently, Lynch explained his business model to Ferrall. These people would not be his employees. The family-run workshops were micro-enterprises, and Lynch was simply another business.

He would place orders with these micro-enterprises, and their relationship was one of partnership, never one of employment.

"So, this isn't an employment relationship. I don't need to guarantee their working hours, income, or social benefits. Do you get what I mean?"

Ferrall's expression turned strange. What he'd heard from the mayor wasn't the full story, and the mayor's tone had been... less than favorable. It was as if the mayor thought Lynch was a real piece of work.

Initially, Ferrall had found that odd, but now he had the same thought: Lynch really was something else.

When people talked about the ruthlessness of capitalists, they would often mention laws like the Minimum Wage Law and the Worker Rights Protection Act, which shielded workers from exploitation. No matter how capitalists wanted to treat their employees, they had to follow the rules, operating within a framework that limited their exploitation.

But now, Lynch had sidestepped that framework altogether. Ferrall couldn't decide whether to call him a genius or a bastard. He believed that capitalists across the federation would love Lynch's new idea—it would save them a fortune.

At the same time, Ferrall had his concerns. If all capitalists started using this method, it could mean that many workers would lose their protections, perhaps even struggling to pay for social insurance.

Ferrall voiced some of his concerns, and Lynch, ever patient, explained. To get people to accept this concept, they first needed to understand that it wasn't exploitation.

The so-called "piecework system" was essentially a process through which ordinary people and families could create and realize their self-worth. If they worked hard, they could earn far more than they did in factories.

But if they chose to slack off or do nothing, they would get nothing in return.

"Society isn't a nursery. It may be harsh here, but it's also more fair than anywhere else. Real fairness.

"You get out what you put in. If that's not fair, then I don't know what in this world can be called fair.

"And, my friend, any system or method will prove its viability through society's reaction. If it's suitable, it will endure; if not, it will quickly disappear.

"We don't know yet if my method will work, or if it fits with the development of society and the times. That remains to be seen. But I think it's a good approach."

Ferrall chain-smoked a few cigarettes, unable to find any arguments to refute Lynch's claims. In the end, he smiled wryly and sighed, "I think you've convinced me."

Lynch quickly followed up, "Truth becomes clearer through debate."

"You always have such special phrases," Ferrall said, pausing to consider. "The mayor's suggestion is that if you can persuade the union to adopt your method, or maybe you could talk to them first."

This indicated that the mayor had made a concession on the issue. In fact, he had no choice. Among the working-age population, one in five was unemployed. What did that mean?

Out of Sabin's 800,000 residents, around 150,000 were of working age and willing to work, but now 30,000 were jobless.

These 30,000 people affected about 100,000 families, touching the lives of two to three hundred thousand people. The scale was alarming. If the unemployment rate continued to rise or even stayed at this level, Sabin's city government might dissolve, leaving people to re-elect their leaders or even govern themselves, eventually erasing the city entirely.

Sabin's unemployment rate was significantly higher than other places, mainly because the Listoan Group had collapsed. The mayor had hoped that uncovering the issue and keeping them in the city would prevent more job losses.

But the deeper the investigation went, the more problematic it became. Even if the Listoan Group hadn't left, they wouldn't have been able to continue operating.

Years of falsified financial reports meant they had been losing money every year. Even if the mayor and governor hadn't touched them, they wouldn't have lasted long—they were bound for bankruptcy.

Now that the mayor was cornered, Lynch's proposal suddenly seemed like a lifeline.

Lynch perked up. "When should I meet with them?"

"The day after tomorrow. There's a major protest planned during the day, and after that, you can talk. You can choose the location, but the union prefers to meet at their office."

When Lynch heard this, he chuckled and nodded lightly. He sensed something else behind Ferrall's words.

Clearly, Lynch could talk to the union beforehand and stop the protest from happening. But the mayor hadn't shown any intent to prevent it. In fact, the union seemed to want the meeting to take place after the protest, at their office. Suddenly, the whole situation reeked of politics.

The mayor wanted to demonstrate his capabilities and influence. The moment the protest erupted, he'd swiftly step in to resolve the issue, showcasing his power.

As for the protest?

Come on, this was a free country. Protests and assemblies were freedoms granted to citizens by the constitution. People could even start impromptu protests without notifying the Social Services Bureau. The police couldn't disperse them—in fact, they had to help maintain order. This was a cherished expression of the Baylor Federation's spirit of liberty.

These troublemakers would protest at the drop of a hat, for example, rallying over the lack of beef in their lunch on weekends. Now, with things as bad as they were, protests were happening all over the country. No one would blame Sabin for its own protest.

As for the workers' union, whose leaders no longer saw themselves as workers, they too wanted to show their influence.

If the problem was solved right after the protest began, it would reflect well on the union's cohesion and influence. The local union leader might even be rewarded by the national leadership, or get promoted into the Socialist Party, becoming a small-time politician.

Compromise?

No, this was collusion.

Noticing the hint of disdain in Lynch's expression, Ferrall forced a laugh. "Is there a problem?"

"Problem?" Lynch snapped back to reality and shook his head. "Of course not. I'll convince them."

"That's good. The mayor didn't say it outright, but I could tell he cares a lot about this."

After parting ways, Lynch returned home. Despite his brief absence, the place was still impeccably clean. The maid had been coming by regularly to keep everything spotless.Please vote for this novel at https://www.novelupdates.com/series/blackstone-code/There are advance chapters available nowAccess will be granted 24 hours after the donationTier 1: 7 Advance chapters Link

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