That evening, Lance dropped Patricia off near her home. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her to stay, but having her stay over might lead to marriage talks—and Lance wasn’t ready for that yet. It wasn’t about shirking responsibility; it was simply that his career was in a pivotal growth phase, and everything else needed to take a back seat.
Patricia lived in a middle-class neighborhood. Working at the Commercial Services Bureau at such a young age already indicated that she wasn’t from a purely lower-class background.
Before entering her home, she adjusted her clothes. When she opened the door, she saw her father sitting on the sofa, his face darkened.
“Hmph!” he grunted. Though he knew his daughter had been on a date, the father’s heart couldn’t settle.
This was a universal fatherly dilemma—handing over a daughter who’d been by his side for twenty years to another man. Even as a father, it felt like a betrayal.
From an emotional perspective, it was its own brand of suffering.
Patricia’s mother, however, took it all in stride. “William, your newspaper is upside down.”
The middle-aged man paused and then set the newspaper back on the coffee table. “I was working on a word puzzle.”
Mrs. Lawrence chuckled and brought over juice and some pastries before sitting beside her husband. “Pat, tell us, did you enjoy your date today?”
Patricia was somewhat afraid of her father, but her eagerness to share the day’s happiness quickly overcame her hesitation.
After a brief pause, her face lit up. “We went to the amusement park. We rode the roller coaster and the carousel…”
She omitted certain details—like the kiss and physical closeness—knowing they’d provoke her conservative father.
As Patricia animatedly recounted her day, Mrs. Lawrence’s smile grew, clearly delighted by her daughter’s joy. “It sounds like a wonderful day. Even just listening makes it sound like so much fun.”
She glanced at her husband. While he still wore a stern expression, she could sense his demeanor softening slightly.
“What’s his name?”
Mr. Lawrence sat up straighter, pretending not to care, though his ears were clearly tuned in.
“Lance. Lance White. He’s a local.”
Mrs. Lawrence sliced an apple, divided it into slices, and placed them on a plate with two fruit forks. “So, does he have a job? Or what does he do?”
“He started his own business!” Patricia said, her tone brimming with pride. “He registered a financial consulting company, helping people solve problems. He told me today that he might register another company next week. He even asked me about tax filing.” ʀάꞐО₿ËS
Chewing a crisp apple slice, her words became slightly muffled. “But I don’t know much about taxes, so I gave him my cousin’s contact info.”
At this point, Mr. Lawrence cleared his throat. “You didn’t… uh…”
Patricia quickly interrupted, “No! We just held hands!”
Standing up abruptly, she said, “I have some things to do…” and hurried upstairs.
Watching their daughter disappear upstairs, Mrs. Lawrence frowned. “You shouldn’t ask such questions.”
Mr. Lawrence disagreed. “There are too many bad people out there, and those subversive ideas are corrupting young girls’ minds. They’re linking things like sex to oppression of women—it’s ridiculous, dear.”
“You may not have seen their twisted logic, but many girls are becoming promiscuous. I won’t let my Pat become like that or be led down that path!”
“My stance remains the same. Before marriage, I don’t want her staying out overnight.”
“I’m protecting her. You should understand that.”
Mrs. Lawrence didn’t want to argue. She had attended some community gatherings where these topics inevitably came up. While some ideas were indeed outrageous, others—like giving women more autonomy—seemed reasonable to her.
But she knew Mr. Lawrence was a rigid traditionalist, and she wasn’t about to challenge his authority over trivial matters.
After a brief pause, Mr. Lawrence added, “If he’s already asking about taxes, it seems this Lance fellow knows a thing or two about making money.”
“I think we should meet him,” he suggested.
Mrs. Lawrence straightened up, her demeanor sharp, like a protective lioness. “Don’t you dare. Until she brings it up herself, I don’t want her hurt.”
“Whether the harm comes from outside or within this family, you’ve controlled her for far too long. She’s twenty now. She should have her own life.”
“She’s not your pet or toy. Thinking you can dictate her life is fundamentally wrong!”
With that, she stood up and took the apple plate, leaving none behind. She intended to talk to her daughter. While she didn’t want Patricia hurt, she also knew that when emotions ran high, some things were inevitable.
She needed to teach her daughter how to protect herself when the time came.
Mr. Lawrence sighed deeply. Who could understand the heart of a father?
On Saturday morning, Lance attended a gathering of Imperial citizens as usual. By now, he’d integrated well into this community. People were generally welcoming to their compatriots.
After greeting several gentlemen, he found Ennio and his group.
“I’ve started a business and can offer you some extra work,” he said, diving straight into the topic. These young men cared about fun, cigarettes, alcohol, women, and, above all, money. Discussing anything else would be meaningless.
As soon as Lance mentioned money, the group quickly gathered around.
“What kind of work?” Ennio, the group’s informal leader, asked first. He had earned respect among them by standing up for others in fights, making him an authority figure.
Lance explained his business. “There are two types of jobs.”
“The first is small loans. If someone urgently needs a small amount of money and finds finance company rates too high, you can refer them to me.”
“I don’t charge excessive interest. For every successful referral, you’ll get five percent of the interest as commission. If someone borrows a hundred dollars, you’ll earn five dollars.”
“There are some conditions: the borrower must be a Federation citizen and have a work card.”
“The second job involves work card leasing. I have some work cards available for rent. If you know any Imperial newcomers without permanent residency who need jobs, refer them to me.”
“I offer eighteen dollars a month per card, and you’ll earn a one-time commission of one dollar per referral. For non-Imperial clients, I offer nineteen dollars per month with the same one-dollar commission. If you negotiate twenty dollars, you’ll keep two dollars as your share.”
“Of course, stock is limited. Check with me before committing.”
He handed out a stack of business cards. “If you run into trouble, don’t act recklessly. Contact me immediately—whether it’s work-related or not.”
Most of the young men paid little attention to his caution, focusing instead on the job details.
Even with permanent residency, Imperial citizens faced a tough job market. Their colleagues often eyed them suspiciously, blaming immigrants for taking native jobs.
But the truth was, even before immigrants arrived, many natives avoided work or slacked off. Their misfortune stemmed from their own laziness, not outsiders.
Yet politicians fed them lies, claiming immigrants were to blame. Those unwilling to admit their faults readily accepted these scapegoats.
For some unemployed individuals, Lance’s opportunities were a lifeline.
Ennio glanced at the card and asked, “Lance, what if… we want to borrow money?”
Lance didn’t hesitate. “Half interest for you guys.”
Ennio exhaled in relief and hugged Lance. “I’ll talk to you later.”
After wrapping up with his friends, Lance was approached by Mr. Jobav’s assistant, who said the boss wanted a private word.
Bidding farewell to the group, Lance joined Mr. Jobav at the edge of the crowd.
“I hear you’re working for Mr. Coty?” asked Jobav.