Darkstone Code-Chapter 1000 - 998: Birthday Gift

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The phone was ringing, and soon the maid walked over, "Mr. Lynch, they said it’s a call from the Ministry of Defense."

The tailor, who was making the final adjustments for Lynch, seemed to have no intention of stopping, so Lynch could only raise his head and say, "Tell them to call back later."

At this, the tailor was taken aback, "No, no need, it’s done..."

As he inserted a pearl pin into Lynch’s underarm fabric and locked it, he stepped aside, "It looks very good now, though some areas under the arms need adjustment."

"I have to say, Mr. Lynch, if you have the time, it’s best to update your measurements. Some sizes are already outdated."

This is the biggest difference between custom made clothing and buying off-the-rack.

Off-the-rack clothes have a "universal size," but this is not actually standard, because each garment factory has different standards.

Just like some people think a hundred-pound girl has the perfect figure, while others believe a hundred and ten pounds is more standard, assuming they are the same height.

So each clothing factory has different parameters for "universal size," and buying off-the-rack means settling for an outfit that doesn’t differ too much from your own size, wearing it reluctantly.

Don’t expect it to fit well, or to complement your demeanor, because it can’t do that; it’s simply not a product tailored specifically for you.

But custom clothing is different. Comprehensive body measurement collection can make every piece of clothing surprisingly well-fitted, as if it grew on you.

Almost all the elites of high society only wear custom clothes. They have their familiar tailors and brands, and they update their body measurements periodically.

They may have gained or lost weight, and the old clothes won’t fit as well anymore, so to avoid embarrassment at gatherings, they will have a few new outfits customized.

Lynch hadn’t updated his measurements in a while, so when the tailor delivered the clothes today, he personally came along.

This was to handle any unexpected issues smoothly, such as the fabric under Lynch’s arms puffing out a little.

This is because he has lost some weight compared to before, possibly due to reduced body fat, causing a bit of "float."

With the tailor here, he knew how to solve this problem.

Lynch looked at himself in the mirror again and said thank you.

"It’s my honor, Mr. Lynch!" said the tailor as he slightly bowed and then stepped aside to tidy up.

Each set of clothes costs several thousand dollars. Apart from the cost of the fabric, the rest is the cost of the master’s technique and service.

However, even with such an expensive outfit, because it didn’t fit Lynch quite well, it would be the first and last time he wore it.

As the maid led the way into the study, Lynch could see some people on the lawn through the window. He had cut down the number of people at the birthday party, but there were still quite a few.

"It’s me..."

"Mr. Lynch, we have successfully eliminated the small warlord stationed in the riverside city."

Feedback from the frontline came, and Lynch turned around to sit back behind the desk, "What’s the casualty situation?"

The other side provided him with a relatively satisfactory answer: twenty-seven dead, and fewer than a hundred wounded, with only less than ten seriously injured, who have already been moved to a safe condition.

This casualty rate is within an acceptable range.

"Are you sure that the small warlord is dead? I mean, did you see his body?"

"Wasn’t it obscured by inexplicable wounds, wasn’t it burned to charcoal, nothing to hinder identifying him?"

"Yes, Mr. Lynch, we found his body, quite intact, except for a few gunshots on it, the head is well preserved."

Lynch nodded slightly, "Very well, I will have the company record performance and bonuses for you all, and distribute them when you return. Is there anything else?"

The caller hesitated slightly, Lynch did not urge him, just waited quietly.

He didn’t necessarily need to know what made the other hesitate; if the person thought it was necessary to say, he eventually would.

After about ten seconds, a voice came through the receiver again, "Mr. Lynch, our operation might have caused some civilian casualties..."

"I need to correct your viewpoint, Major, just as I told the company’s management."

"During wartime, normal people wouldn’t engage in actions with obvious erroneous tendencies."

"They wouldn’t stand on the roadsides, in alleyways, or behind some cover watching you."

"Nor would they hide behind windows or door cracks watching you."

"They certainly wouldn’t run into the streets and refuse to go home, facing an unfamiliar army."

"You didn’t mistakenly hurt civilians; those people are dangerous militants!"

"If you think I can’t convince you, then you’d better convince yourself. You’re not the only one dreaming about these worthless things; you also carry the mission of ensuring thousands can return safely."

"Any other questions?"

The Major sighed. Lynch’s statements were the same as the Colonel’s; they hadn’t caused civilian casualties—those individuals were armed militants, discovered and eliminated by the brave Federation soldiers.

Actually, to say it’s hard to accept isn’t necessarily true. After all, having experienced a bloodbath yesterday, he couldn’t have much sympathy for the locals. It was just a query seeking redemption when his conscience was uneasy.

"No more questions, Mr. Lynch."

There were faint exclamations outside, and Lynch glanced out the window to see Mr. Wardrick arriving with his wife and daughter.

He withdrew his gaze, "Good, you’re done. Now it’s my turn."

"You all temporarily station and refurbish at Riverbank City, don’t push forward. Within a week at most, new reinforcements will arrive from our side."

"We’ll discuss specific arrangements when the time comes. Right now my only requirement is to purge all participating hostile armed factions in the city to ensure that when our experts arrive at the front line a week later, no one gets sent to see the Lord by a stray bullet!"

"Can you do it?"

The Major’s voice was firm, "Yes, Mr. Lynch."

"Good luck, Major."

"Happy birthday, Mr. Lynch..."

Lynch was slightly taken aback and then smiled, "Thank you, I really like your birthday gift."

After hanging up the phone, he pondered a bit; his expression was slightly different from before—he was smiling, genuinely smiling.

Actually, he knew this was inevitable—a group of people eating his food couldn’t keep thinking well of the Ministry of Defense forever; eventually, they would gravitate towards him, and that’s enough.

He wouldn’t even need to actively "buy" these people; they would come around on their own.

Now this is just part of the results on display.

He looked at the people outside, shrugged his shoulders, and walked out of the study.

As his polished shoes stepped onto the lawn, a sunny smile appeared on his face—war, casualties, none of that affected him!

Lynch’s appearance made many people come over, led by Mr. Wardrick and his wife, along with some unfamiliar gentlemen.

These people were all invited by Lynch; they were from various Military Industrial Groups. Lynch hadn’t interacted with them before, so the first encounter was best not too formal.

Celebrating one’s birthday was a good opportunity; even if these people had a falling out with him, they wouldn’t show strong dissatisfaction at his birthday party.

Doing so would not only be ungracious but would also offend Lynch profoundly.

"When I heard the news, I realized you’re just twenty-four..." he commented, looking back at his wife for a moment, "What were we doing at twenty-four?"

His wife smiled softly, "Rella was just born."

Mr. Wardrick nodded, "Yes, Rella had just been born; we had no plans for the future. But look at you—my God, can you tell me if you have any connections with the Lord or the Goddess of Destiny?"

This was typical flattery, something Federation people sometimes enjoy, especially when relations are good, by depreciating themselves to elevate others.

But this was limited to people with good relations; those with average relations wouldn’t do this.

"I don’t know them. In fact, I think they may be somewhat displeased outside because I believe ’as long as people make an effort, they can surely overcome all challenges, including fate!’ "

Mr. Wardrick praised, "Very well said. Anyway, happy birthday..." He took a small gift from his attendant and handed it over, "Do you want to open it?"

"Why not?" Lynch opened the gift box, revealing a beautiful lighter.

It’s wider than a typical lighter, and the side uses various colored gemstones to depict a man’s profile.

Although it looks somewhat "mosaic," everyone can sense that this person is definitely Lynch.

"I really like it..." Looking at the box, Lynch noticed there was also a document inside, "Seems like there’s an extra surprise?"

Mr. Wardrick gestured to "open it," and Lynch did so; it was an equity transfer document.

Mr. Wardrick had acquired this lighter company and gifted it to Lynch, with Lynch’s lighter as the only limited edition—

It’s just a way to facilitate remembrance or speculation about certain things in advance.

"It’s too valuable, but I really like it. If there are more surprises like this, I wouldn’t mind having more!"

Lynch’s "unreserved" words prompted everyone to laugh heartily, with impeccably dressed people standing on the lush green lawn, truly embodying the word "civilization!"