Darkstone Code
Chapter 201 - 0199 Return Home

Chapter 201: 0199 Return Home

Many people fondly remember life in the military as they grow older, because it was simple with a touch of happiness.

There’s not a lot of scheming and everything feels pure, including the joy—though there are few exceptions.

The straightforward environment led the Senior Soldier in front of Lynch to almost say "report," but he suddenly hesitated, realizing this was no longer the military, and he was no longer a soldier.

He had almost forgotten how to communicate with ordinary people, especially his new boss.

Ferrari’s wife’s father quickly comprehended the difficulty this Senior Soldier was facing, which was not uncommon among soldiers.

He introduced himself briefly and, in the capacity of an officer, requested the Senior Soldier to introduce himself.

In an instant, everyone including the Senior Soldier himself could sense that the military spirit had returned, as he loudly introduced himself as he would answer a question, like a soldier.

After An Jing let him finish his introduction, Lynch shook hands with the Senior Soldier named Charles and smiled, saying, "You don’t need to force yourselves to change the habits you are accustomed to. If you want, you can continue with a military style of living and working, though things will be relatively quieter here."

This greatly alleviated the social anxiety of Charles and the young men behind him, and some even smiled.

It was a good start, and Ferrari’s wife’s father was very pleased, while Ferrari breathed a sigh of relief.

The old soldier immediately took over the topic, "In three days, I’ll have someone send over the gun permits, but I must declare something first..." his expression grew more serious, "If you’re letting them maintain their military lifestyle, it’s best to make a record. Do you understand what I mean?"

"It won’t affect your work or life with them; it’s just to ensure certain aspects are under our control. I believe you understand what I mean."

If it was just hiring a group of veterans with gun permits, it wouldn’t be a problem, but Lynch suggested they could maintain their military habits, which even sounded encouraging; this implies these veterans would live and work in an unofficial militaristic setting, touching on national security issues, which requires reporting to the Federal Security Committee, Federal Military Management Office, and Ministry of Defense.

Otherwise, Lynch might be seen as breaking the law, and it’s not a joking matter.

After Lynch nodded, he left an address, a villa area by the lake.

The lakeside villa he exchanged with Hart was in the process of power transfer, and many of them have become Lynch’s property.

It’s far from the city center, making it a good place to arrange people temporarily. Later, he planned to move these young men to the new land he acquired; as for these young people, their value isn’t merely for Lynch’s security.

Once international trade is permitted, what follows wouldn’t be harmonious international trade, but rather bloody international exploitation.

This is normal; as long as there’s trade, there will be imbalances, even among closely connected Allies, trade exploitation occurs.

Some exploitation may be veiled attractively, making it less offensive, while others starkly exposed, such as using technological gaps to conduct low-cost, low-profit dumping in relatively backward countries.

It’s not just about making money, it can severely undermine a country’s light industry or even overall industrial development, and make these countries dependent on goods from the Bail Federal.

The logic is simple; why spend unspeakable amounts of money and manpower to figure out how to make something, when you can buy it at a lower cost?

This requires no persuasion or momentum creations; once a country integrates into the international community, this thought and behavior naturally arise, as human self-interested nature innately displays this deep-seated gene without learning.

When that time comes, there will be those with rebellious feelings. The Bail Federal is a civilized nation, but that doesn’t mean the whole world is alike; there are still some decaying and backward regions. When "trading" with these regions, having a military force at hand better suits Lynch’s psychological expectations.

Moreover, he plans to visit several countries to see different cultures, and assistant local indigenous people in shedding primitive ways of life and adapting quickly to the international social family.

This was also discussed earlier with the mayor—to bear more international social responsibilities in joint development, which is most ideal.

After leaving, Lynch had Ferrari take him to buy a bottle of wine. Interestingly, many stores temporarily closed to observe the situation after last night’s events, but some selling wine and cigarettes were boldly open.

More amazingly, they weren’t worried about robbery, seemingly knowing everyone passing by would behave courteously.

After buying wine, Ferrari drove Lynch to a slightly remote neighborhood, knowing it was Lynch’s parents’ home; the mayor investigated Lynch, and Ferrari, as a close staff officer to the mayor, naturally knew of this.

"Should I come pick you up?" Ferrari asked after Lynch got out, "This place doesn’t seem safe."

During their parking time, two or three people leisurely approached from afar, seemingly wandering aimlessly, but Lynch and Ferrari knew they were purposeful.

Lynch shook his head, "I don’t know when it’ll be done; I might spend the night here."

Ferrari nodded, "Alright then, call me anytime if there’s anything," he said while rolling up the window and quickly disappeared into the distance.

As for Lynch, he glanced at those watching him and directly entered the apartment entrance, making them halt disappointedly, continuing to monitor the street.

Based on his vague yet instinctive memory, he found the door he could never forget.

On it were carvings from a knife, some childhood scribbles that hadn’t faded yet, and a small crack, caused when he refused to follow his father’s arrangements and his father punched the door.

He knocked on the door, and after about half a minute, a guarded inquiry came from inside, "Who’s there?"

"It’s me, Serra."

Serra is Lynch’s mother’s name, and in most ordinary families, children only use affectionate terms like "dad" or "mom" when young.

As they grow older and move out, calling each other by name becomes commonplace.

This doesn’t apply to wealthy middle-upper families, possibly due to living conditions or not separating due to money or other reasons, or they have more demands to maintain relationships; overall, freely interchanging names and nicknames is deemed normal.

The door quickly opened, with a woman delightfully looking at Lynch outside. She subconsciously wiped her hands on her apron and said, "My heavens, I didn’t know it was you; you know now..." she stepped aside, "Look at me, come in!"

Serra is only thirty-nine this year; she had Lynch at nineteen when Lynch’s father was twenty-one.

Under Federation law, you can marry at sixteen, but adulthood is considered at twenty though pregnancies post-eighteen don’t warrant investigation... well, that’s the wondrous Federation law.

Serra now appeared a bit older, looking around forty-two or forty-three, her once dim eyes brightened seeing Lynch, even ignoring the small gift he was carrying.

Until Lynch placed the wine on the table did she notice.

"You shouldn’t buy these things; they don’t look cheap!" The woman still adhered to ordinary living wisdom regarding such matters, seemingly forgetting Lynch is now doing well.

She picked up the wine, walking toward the kitchen, "Have a rest; your father will be back in about half an hour."

The house was small, like remembered, apartments are generally compact.

Sitting in the living room, he already smelled kitchen aromas; standing at the kitchen door, he glanced at the yellow-stained stove with a tall pot simmering something that bubbled thickly.

The kitchen felt cramped, suited for one person to work busy inside; adding another would struggle to move.

After wandering the other two rooms, he arrived at the innermost door, with "Lynch" labeled on it, suddenly feeling a hint of unease.

He twisted the knob, pushed the door, and at the remembered location, flicked the light switch like practiced countless times.

Dim lighting brightened the room, with faded-star posters on walls seeming to greet him, everything unchanged since he last left.

Going to the bed, he touched the spotless sheets, as was the desk; it showed how even if he didn’t live here, the couple regularly cleaned the room.

After sitting on the bed for a while, the living room’s door sound pulled him from deep thought; he blinked, stood, and walked towards the living room to meet the person who once wanted to rule his destiny.