Chapter 102: Resistance Only Leads to Greater Harm and Becoming a Social Butterfly

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This era of the Federation can be called the best time ever, a period of wild development.

Before social rules are fully established, before people’s courage is restrained by the law, when desire tramples reason,

this place, right now, is about to be the brightest era in the Federation’s long history.

It’s even better than when the Federation was first founded, because complete chaos doesn’t always mean a good era. People had no good lives beyond looting.

At this moment, everything is at an interesting crossroads—everything is at its best.

Future historians and sociologists will call this the “Golden Age” to summarize what is happening and what will happen here.

They will probably describe this time as “gold everywhere.”

Higher incomes, lower unemployment rates, everyone has money.

Because everything is still in the primitive phase, still in wild development.

You could walk into a police station with a wad of cash and give every officer you see five dollars.

They won’t refuse; they’ll just smile and say, “Good morning, sir,” or “Good afternoon, sir,” thank you for your generosity, and then pocket the money.

They won’t refuse and awkwardly tell you they can’t accept your money.

If you commit a crime and happen to run into them enforcing the law, they will smile, put away their weapons, and tell you and the other victim that this must all be a misunderstanding!

But it is also the worst era, because everything is uncertain. It could be the ladder to your success or the express train to hell.

You never know what you will face.

Recently, Lance has been following some newspaper reports. They say that some native Federation tycoons have been sanctioned for violating anti-monopoly laws, but strangely, the more they are sanctioned, the richer they get, and the bigger their scale.

Originally, a company monopolized an industry with a market value of one billion.

But now that company has been split into ten companies, each worth five hundred million, and the core shareholders are still themselves.

In an instant, their wealth expanded fivefold, yet the Federation government and capitalists tell the public that monopoly is gone!

Meanwhile, foreign capitalists who refuse to share their wealth with the Federation people while making money are simply dismembered and put on the table as delicacies.

For the Federation people, this is the best era. They can trample the law and plunder any wealth they want.

But for anyone outside the Federation, this is the worst era. If you don’t make the Federation people feel like you are covered in thorns, they won’t hesitate to prepare the spices and cooking methods for you in advance.

Just like… Mr. Jobav at this moment.

Lance looked at him. This would not be the last time he was extorted; it was only the beginning. Lance also knew well that Mr. Jobav could not refuse such extortion.

His current struggle was essentially meaningless.

Out of solidarity as fellow Empire countrymen, and with the idea of uniting more Empire people, Lance said softly, “Mr. Jobav, my personal suggestion is you talk to the mayor, give him twenty thousand dollars privately, and then give Arthur two hundred thousand to settle this matter.”

“Instead of trying other, possibly more violent methods.”

“Maybe my metaphor is not very appropriate. If you feel offended, please forgive me.”

“It’s like you are a beautiful young woman blocked in a dead-end alley late at night by a group of thugs. They steal your belongings and demand you take off your clothes.”

“You feel trapped and are considering whether to resist. You might think resisting will scare them off and stop further abuse.”

“But, Mr. Jobav, sometimes resistance doesn’t have that effect. Instead, it brings out their crueler side.”

“At first, they might only want a little from you… but because your resistance makes them feel underestimated, they want not only a taste but also your life.”

Mr. Jobav stared straight at Lance. This example was truly offensive but hit the mark.

That feeling… was too accurate!

A group of thugs surrounded him, and now he wanted to resist.

Mr. Jobav looked at Lance with a strange expression—half wanting to laugh, half wanting to cry, somewhat twisted.

“Am I just supposed to endure their abuse?” he said, then suddenly let out a light laugh, quickly stopping. But he really laughed.

It was a laugh of self-mockery, a laugh at Lance’s exaggerated humor, and a laugh of helplessness.

His assistant’s expression also twisted. Laughing now was rude, but… he turned away despite Mr. Jobav’s warning look, shook a little, then looked back.

Lance nodded, “If you endure, you only lose a little dignity.”

“But if you resist, you might lose everything you have.”

“If you’re not rich, if you’re someone like me with no burdens, then let them come!”

“Before the final moment comes, no one knows whether they are violating me, or I am violating them!”

This is also an interesting phenomenon. Organized crime groups in the Federation are wildly growing. Some have grown to enormous scales, with incomes rivaling major corporations.

But no one ever causes trouble for them. Instead, people maintain close ties, because every plunderer knows these gangs are not easy to mess with.

One careless move and you prick your own hand. The poison on the needle’s tip could cost your life.

In contrast, the foreign capital that is harmless and unarmed is their best target.

Hearing Lance say these things suddenly made some things clear that Mr. Jobav hadn’t understood before. His mood relaxed a little.

“So it seems I have no other choice?”

Lance thought for a moment. Under Mr. Jobav’s expectant gaze, he said softly, “There is another option—bankruptcy.”

“Bankruptcy?”

Lance took out a cigarette. The assistant quickly took out a delicate silver lighter and lit it for him.

“Yes, bankruptcy.”

“When you have no value left to plunder, they won’t bother you. It’s like… when they lift your hair to abuse you but realize you are the ugliest person in the Federation.”

“That will immediately kill their interest!”

“And you, you’ll be safe!”

“Sometimes poverty isn’t a problem. For us immigrants, it’s actually protection.”

“Who would bother poor immigrants who are about to die?”

“They’d avoid you. Even if you bite them, it’s useless—they won’t bite back.”

Mr. Jobav looked at Lance in amazement.

“I’ve never heard anyone see through the surface and get to the core like this. You’re the first, Lance.”

“A way beyond submission or resistance. I’m curious why someone so young has such terrifying wisdom.”

Lance took a drag. “Maybe because I don’t want to become someone like you.”

Mr. Jobav was stunned, then fell silent.

But Lance kept talking.

“Whether you want to anger them, obey them, or make them realize they can’t get what they want from you, you must be ready to face the consequences.”

“Of course, my personal advice is still the same: if you want to get into the Federation’s upper circle, you have to learn to be a prostitute first.”

“Even if it means becoming a mistress for different men.”

“What you want means what you have to pay, Mr. Jobav. You probably have more experience than me, so you should know better: nothing gained is without cost.”

“The more you gain, the more you pay!”

Mr. Jobav then gave a bitter smile and lit a cigarette himself.

“You’ve given me a lot of ideas, but it seems like we still haven’t done anything. I’m not satisfied, Lance.”

“It was like this in the Empire.”

“The nobles oppressed and exploited us. I had to come to the Federation. After more than ten years, I succeeded, then the nobles here started again.”

“You’re right. As long as I haven’t entered the upper circle, I’m just a prostitute to them.”

“Used when needed, discarded when done.”

He stubbed out the cigarette he had only taken two puffs from in the ashtray, then stood and extended his hand.

“I’m very grateful for your help. You’ve made me think clearly about many things.”

“I’ve decided to give you a gift. I hope you won’t refuse.”

Lance showed appropriate curiosity and looked at the assistant.

“Prepare a debt transfer agreement. Transfer the debts we picked out earlier to Lance for one dollar.”

The assistant was stunned for a moment but soon complied.

Mr. Jobav looked at Lance.

“I know you might think this isn’t a good gift, but I have my reasons. My funds are tight, and I can’t offer much as thanks. These debts might be another way of thanking you if you can collect them.”

Lance was curious.

“How much?”

Mr. Jobav was silent a moment, then laughed.

“About five hundred thousand.”

Lance was a little shocked.

“Mr. Jobav, although we are friends, now that I know this number, I almost want to join them in extorting you!”

Mr. Jobav also laughed.

“You should have done it sooner.”

He decided, if he must be a prostitute, then he would be the most glamorous and classy one in the circle.

Right, prostitutes in the upper circle aren’t called prostitutes. That term is too crude. They are called—

Social Butterflies!