Empire of Shadows

“Mr. Jobav wants to talk to you.”

Lance turned toward the man who had spoken, recognizing him as Mr. Jobav’s assistant. Wrapping up his conversation with the teenagers and leaving them his contact information, Lance followed the assistant.

The name ”Jobav” carried significant weight among the Empire’s immigrants. Back in the Empire, nobility and power garnered attention. Here, wealth determined prominence, and Jobav, with his considerable fortune, was undeniably in the spotlight.

Ironically, much of Jobav’s wealth came from those who admired him—an amusing yet stark reality. Capitalists had long mastered the art of using people’s money to extract even more from them, a strategy Jobav employed effectively.

---

“Good morning, Mr. Jobav.”

The man greeted him warmly. “We’ve already exchanged pleasantries, but I wanted to speak with you because I heard you recently closed quite the lucrative deal.”

His tone carried both exaggeration and flattery, enough to make most people swell with pride. After all, praise from ”the Banker of the Empire” was no small thing.

However, Lance’s reaction was measured. “Just a small amount of money,” he replied nonchalantly.Jobav’s interest piqued further. Many young men couldn’t resist such praise, but Lance seemed immune, even dismissive of his recent success.

With genuine admiration, Jobav continued, “A thousand dollars is no small sum. Apologies for prying, but I heard snippets of your earlier conversation, so I had someone ask around.”

“Lance, at your age, I was still learning to follow society’s rules, but you’ve already found a way to profit outside those boundaries. You’ve done better than I did.”

Jobav’s words carried layered meaning. He admired Lance for stepping outside the confines of societal expectations—be it a poor child destined for menial labor or a privileged youth enjoying life’s comforts.

In Jobav’s eyes, breaking free from one’s predetermined path was a rare and admirable trait. Lance had defied expectations and succeeded on his terms.

“Moreover,” Jobav added, “I’m sensitive to numbers, and $1,000 is no small feat. Would you mind sharing how you earned it? Not to steal your methods, of course, but because I see immense potential in you.”

He leaned forward. “I want to invest in you.”

The directness of the offer startled even Lance for a moment. Jobav’s banking empire gave weight to his words. Today’s small investment might yield immeasurable returns tomorrow.

“Mr. Jobav, how do you plan to invest in me?” Lance asked cautiously, not outright refusing the offer.

“I understand you’re building your foundation. I can provide capital—no repayment necessary—to help you set up your framework faster. In return, you’d owe me three favors when I need them in the future.” Ɽ₳ŊȪ𝖇ЕṠ

Lance shook his head. “That’s not an investment, Mr. Jobav. That’s speculation. Forgive me, but I must decline.”

Lance’s response was firm but respectful, underscoring a fundamental difference between investment and speculation. Speculation carried higher risks and demanded even higher returns.

“Won’t you at least hear my offer?” Jobav pressed, unwilling to give up.

When Lance shook his head again, Jobav raised the stakes. “What if I gave you $10,000, and you only owed me two favors in return?”

Lance smiled faintly. “Mr. Jobav, I believe that in a few years, I’ll be worth far more than that.”

Jobav chuckled, though slightly disappointed. “Your confidence is one of the qualities I admire most. Confident people are always the most persuasive.”

After a pause, he softened his approach. “Let’s establish a friendly relationship instead. If you ever need financial assistance, you can come to me.”

He handed Lance a gold-embossed business card.

The front featured the Empire’s national flower, while the back bore Jobav’s name and a phone number: Jobav Schiller.

They shook hands before parting.

As Jobav’s assistant approached, he asked, “Was the deal successful?”

Jobav shook his head. “He refused me. He’s very confident, but I gave him my card.”

The assistant looked incredulous. “You’re the Jobav. Who could refuse you?”

“Now we know,” Jobav replied dryly.

---

Returning to the group of teenagers, Lance faced questions about his private conversation with Jobav. Among the Empire’s immigrants, Jobav was an iconic figure, and anything involving him drew attention.

“He gave me a business card,” Lance admitted.

The group erupted into murmurs and exclamations. Owning one of Jobav’s cards was akin to holding a golden ticket.

Rumors swirled that possessing his card granted a ”wish,” though this was mere speculation.

---

After the gathering, Lance left the teenagers to meet Officer Brayden, who had already arrived at the diner and parked outside.

Seeing Brayden’s punctuality confirmed Lance’s belief: people are more committed when they feel they’re in control.

The diner was nearly empty, save for two elderly patrons at the far end. Brayden sat at a booth, a file folder on the table before him.

Lance slid into the seat across from him.

“Meet the Whites,” Brayden said, tapping the folder. “Mr. White is 42, Mrs. White is 39, and their son, Steven White, went missing 12 years ago when he was five years and seven months old.”

Opening the folder, Brayden handed Lance the documents inside.

The Whites’ photos bore a slight resemblance to Lance—enough to pass casual scrutiny.

While scanning the file, Lance asked, “They didn’t try for another child?”

Brayden smirked. “Oh, they did. Two more, actually. Their second son also went missing, and their third child, a daughter, is about to graduate elementary school.”

“Is Jingang City’s security really that bad?” Lance asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Most missing children cases have nothing to do with public safety,” Brayden explained. “Statistics show 80% of cases involve kids running away after arguing with their families. Less than 5% are actual kidnappings.”

He paused before adding cryptically, “In the Federation, anything can be bought—for the right price. People with money avoid unnecessary risks.”

“What’s the Whites’ situation now?” Lance asked.

“They’re struggling financially. I’d say there’s a high chance they’ll agree to your plan…” Brayden trailed off, a sly grin spreading across his face.