Lynch didn’t answer immediately. He picked up the teapot and poured a cup of floral tea for the Prime Minister, then poured one for himself. “I’m not quite sure what you mean,” he said, setting the teapot aside and looking at the Prime Minister.
Words spoken by different people carry different weight. When a vagrant says something, and when an empire’s Prime Minister says the same thing, the impact is worlds apart.
Still, Lynch couldn’t deny a subtle satisfaction—praise from someone of such high status, whether genuine or not, carried a different kind of power. And the fact remained: he had said it.
The Prime Minister wasn’t bothered by Lynch’s evasiveness. He simply smiled, though a trace of concern appeared on his face. “The Gephra Financial Index took another sharp dive today. Although the fall has paused for now, the outlook remains bleak.
“We can’t rely solely on the Minister of Finance to fix this and bring things back to normal. We have to make our own efforts as well.”
His words were official and guarded, never touching on the real core of the issue—expressing his intentions indirectly.
A less intelligent person might find this odd. After all, the Prime Minister and the Minister of Finance were political enemies, actively trying to undermine each other. So why was the Prime Minister now saying the kind of thing his rival would say?
But this was actually the most typical behavior of a Prime Minister. Even when everyone knows what he’s doing, he’ll never admit to it—let alone say it out loud.
He looked at Lynch, his tone somber. “Post-war Gephra is in bad shape. We can’t allow personal interests to drag the whole country into the mud. We need to get things back on track as soon as possible.”
“You have sharp economic insight. I’d like your advice—how can we quickly stabilize the market? And what should we watch out for?”
Lynch now understood. He sipped his tea, moistening his lips, and used the moment to think.
After setting the cup down, he had a rough answer. “I see. I do have some ideas, though I’m not sure they’re entirely applicable to the Empire.
“You know, the Empire and the Federation are two very different countries. I can only share what I’ve learned from my experience in the Federation. Whether that will help you—I can’t say.”
The Prime Minister maintained his kind smile. “That’s why I came. Whether it helps or not, I’m very grateful.”
Lynch nodded. “We all know that finance is just a reflection of the economy—and the economy reflects the lives of ordinary people.
“Employment rates, consumer indexes, cash flow—these are all manifestations of economic activity in different sectors.
“And they all revolve around one thing: money. Whether it’s the economy or finance, their foundation is the same—money.”
The Prime Minister nodded without interrupting, sipping his tea patiently.
“To stabilize the current situation quickly, all we need to do is stimulate the market—boost consumer spending and production. The market will naturally respond positively.
“When money flows rapidly across sectors, it generates momentum. That momentum will also be reflected in the stock market.”
The Prime Minister nodded again, expression unreadable. “And what should we be cautious of?”
A strange smile briefly crossed Lynch’s face. It came and went so fast the Prime Minister wasn’t even sure he’d seen it—but it gave him a chill.
When he looked more carefully, Lynch’s smile seemed normal again, as if that eerie flash had been his imagination.
Lynch spoke quietly, “As we promote the circulation of money across all sectors, we must be careful… that there isn’t enough money.”
Something seemed to click for the Prime Minister. His pupils contracted slightly. He raised his hand, then put it down, then lifted it again to finish his tea.
“I think I understand…” he said, standing up and extending his hand. “Thank you very much for your valuable insight—it’s been very helpful. I have much to deal with, so I won’t stay.”
“Do come visit me when you have time. We old men need to be refreshed by new ideas too…”
Lynch didn’t try to keep him. After the handshake, he escorted him out and watched him leave.
Back in his study, Lynch’s lips curled slightly. After a moment’s thought, he got up and headed to the embassy.
Due to technical limitations, international calls were still routed manually. That meant calls on ordinary lines could be intercepted. Lynch needed to use a diplomatic line.
While diplomatic lines weren’t guaranteed to be completely secure, the risk of being monitored was very low. People might eavesdrop, but they wouldn’t actively monitor—security of the line was under the Federation’s control, and they routinely checked it.
The call went directly to Mr. Truman’s desk. He was working, as the joint military exercises had ended, but the massive diplomatic event they triggered had not.
The Federation’s naval performance during the exercises had impressed other nations, who now sought further technical details under the guise of visits and exchanges. Ideally, they’d like to purchase some gear—take it apart, study it.
The Federation, of course, had its own interest in foreign tech, so military-themed diplomacy was now busier than ever.
With the Foreign Minister on vacation, most diplomatic affairs had fallen to a few deputy ministers and Mr. Truman. They were swamped. The fact that Lynch got through today was sheer luck.
Upon hearing Lynch’s voice, a smile appeared on Truman’s face. Lynch had not only completed his mission in Gephra—he’d thrown the entire ruling class into chaos.
The Security Council, the Intelligence Bureau, the Ministry of Defense—none of them had figured out how Lynch had lit the match that ignited open conflict between the Prime Minister and the Finance Minister.
Such a thing had seemed impossible before. But now it was happening—and even the emperor might get dragged in.
With the ruling class consumed by internal strife, their military and economic development would stall. Even if things stabilized eventually, recovery would be hard. This wasn’t like replacing a mayor—this was high-level political warfare.
While others assumed Lynch had only played a supporting role, Truman was sure Lynch was at the center of it all—driving it forward. It wasn’t blind trust. Lynch’s past achievements made it a reasonable assumption. And now, he’d profited handsomely—clear signs of his involvement.
“In a while, Gephra’s economy might face serious issues. If you have any projects you’re considering with them, start preparing now,” Lynch said. “Also, prepare some funds. You may need them soon.”
Truman was momentarily stunned. Then he asked Lynch to wait, transcribing the message word for word.
“I don’t quite understand. Why would their economy run into problems? What kind of problems? Be more specific,” Truman asked, clearly anxious—this was critical information.
There was a brief silence. Then Lynch replied, “It’s not suitable to explain over the phone. I’ll write you a letter. Make sure someone is ready to receive it.”
Letters could be encrypted. All countries used ciphers—still the safest method available.
Truman acknowledged, then asked, “When are you coming back?”
“Before the New Year, there’s a major show to watch here—I can’t leave for now. But don’t worry about my safety…”
After chatting a bit more, Lynch hung up the phone and, with the ambassador’s help, began writing the letter in code.
Meanwhile, the Prime Minister returned to his office. He didn’t resume work immediately, instead reflecting on what Lynch had said earlier.
He now fully understood the meaning behind Lynch’s words—and it was precisely because he understood that he felt a chill. There was no doubt: once Lynch’s move was put into play, it would signal the end for the Minister of Finance.
But there was a catch—once that move was made, the Minister would be forced to resign, and the Empire’s financial system would suffer a massive shock.
Even if he stepped forward to deny it immediately, or even if the Emperor personally issued a denial, it wouldn’t be enough.
The turmoil would last at least three to five weeks, possibly two to three months.
If this solution had come from a Gephran, he’d have thought it cruel—but wouldn’t overthink it.
But the person proposing it was a Federate. Lynch might hold a Gephran noble title, but at his core, he was still from the Federation.
When a Federate proposes such a ruthless solution… could there be deeper motives?
The Prime Minister was deeply troubled. He wasn’t sure if he should go through with it.
After a long period of contemplation, he returned to his desk. After a pause, he buried himself back in his work.
He might not have to use Lynch’s method—but the very existence of that method gave him a sense of confidence. A sense of inevitable victory.
He told himself: not unless absolutely necessary.
