Chapter 891: This Is Me

The room was very empty.

How empty?

Extremely empty.

It was a venue used by the Safety Committee, over a thousand square meters with only five tables and six chairs.

Present were two senior Safety Committee officials, one senior Military Intelligence officer, one senior Defense Department officer, and one senior Federal Interior Department supervisor.

An impressive lineup.

Lynch sat calmly before them, showing no sign of anxiety or fear.

Of course, the five facing him didn’t assume his calmness meant innocence—they were security professionals whose acting skills far surpassed any so-called stage actors.

The first question from a senior Safety Committee official was direct: Why didn’t you report the ship situation to security agencies for backup but instead mobilized Blackstone Security’s field agents, and even had a missing manager named Lime from Eminence Brokerage build a short position on EveryMoment?

This was the question many wanted answered—how could he make such a precise judgment under those conditions, or did he already know before the problem erupted?

“May I smoke?” Lynch pulled out a pack of cigarettes and his million-Sol lighter. He might have been the only undamaged person on the ship.

The officials exchanged looks and nodded permission.

Lynch lit a cigarette with a slow, deliberate motion, took a drag, and exhaled.

The pale blue smoke tinged with yellow slowly rose in the large, sealed room, shifting shape invisibly and unpredictably, yet seeming to follow some hidden pattern.

“Many people knew something bad was coming—I was just one of them.”

“The night before I sent the telegram, I met a fellow gambler at the casino who lost money and couldn’t pay. The captain sent someone to apologize to me and cover the loss.”

Someone interrupted, “Why would the captain do that? He could’ve just written you a check instead of making a fuss.”

Lynch looked at the questioner—a man from the Interior Department.

No one liked the Interior Department, not even themselves.

They were the type to find fault in everything; even when everyone agreed, they’d ask repeatedly and propose absurd theories—annoying to the core.

“I don’t want to answer such a stupid question, but since I’m here today, I will.”

“If the captain had written me a check, I won’t even discuss whether he had the authority to spend millions of the company’s cash to settle bets among passengers.”

“Even if he did, it wouldn’t change the fact that the signature on the check would be EveryMoment or the cruise line, not a person’s name—raising suspicion.”

“You probably don’t understand how sensitive and fragile we rich people are. Such details get noticed and can cause worse consequences.”

The Interior Department official nodded in agreement and scribbled in his notebook.

Lynch continued, “Someone snuck aboard. Once discovered, instead of relaxing, the captain and crew tightened surveillance on every public area.”

“That means there was likely more than one intruder onboard. Gentlemen, what do you think is most likely to happen next?”

The Safety Committee officials found Lynch’s reasoning logical: an unexpected group had boarded and hidden; their target was either a passenger or the cruise itself.

The Interior official offered a different view: “Then why did you decide to build a short position in EveryMoment without knowing if any problem would occur?”

This was where Lynch seemed most suspicious—building a position in advance suggested something beyond mere observation or judgment.

Lynch remained calm. “Under those circumstances, two outcomes were most probable.”

He raised one finger.

“First, they find the intruders and continue sailing.”

“Second, they can’t find them and must dock for a full ship search.”

“On a ship with hundreds of wealthy passengers, a criminal group infiltrates?”

“Or the influence of that group forces EveryMoment’s products to be suspended?”

“Either way, EveryMoment’s stock would drop.”

“I don’t think my judgment exceeds the basic principles of investing. If it does, then people’s understanding is too shallow.”

A Safety Committee official covered his face, shaking his head with a laugh, silently agreeing that the Interior Department’s understanding was shallow.

The Interior official ignored this, continued writing, then nodded, “Please continue.”

Lynch took two drags and said, “I called on Blackstone Security because I believed I was in danger. The captain’s refusal to dock was clear. Under such conditions, I could only seek help from people I trusted.”

“All telegrams should be archived at the telegraph office—you’ve probably seen them.”

Telegrams aren’t destroyed immediately; their contents are recorded in ledgers and only moved or destroyed years later when legally obsolete, so they’re accessible.

The first question was settled, and then another was raised by the Safety Committee.

“Mr. Lynch, why did you help the robbers extort money from fellow passengers? Some think you’re in cahoots with them or that the robbers are your men.”

Lynch flicked his cigarette butt to the floor, sparks flying. “Nonsense.”

“I’m also a victim. Facing armed robbers who’d already killed several people, what choice did I have?”

Lynch crossed his legs, showing no fear or nervousness.

“In that situation, no one knew how long we’d survive, or whether the robbers would kill again.”

“Others cooperated with the robbers. I believe when the robbers’ gains exceed their plan’s timeframe and goals, they might do something foolish.”

“No matter what I did, it was to survive.”

“Since I couldn’t fight those armed men, I had to join them first and buy some time.”

The Federation actually looked down on the if you can’t beat them, join them approach.

People who love life and freedom tend to have a romantic and heroic spirit. They admire those who resist authority, not those who give in.

The Defense Department officer frowned, “Don’t glorify cowardice.”

Lynch glanced at him. “May I know your name, sir?”

The officer paused, then fell silent.

Lynch spread his hands and gave a look that clearly said—why don’t you try resisting?

To the Safety Committee officials, this was normal. Lynch was their advisor; how he acted wasn’t important—only the results mattered.

Security work was always like this. You don’t let a spy go just because she’s a pretty sixteen-year-old girl.

The Military Intelligence officer agreed—there’s no glory or shame in special operations, as long as the mission is accomplished, no one cares about the process.

As for the Defense officer, he was thinking one word—arrogant.

The Interior Department official took notes on Lynch’s characteristics to file away, with possible additions later.

By the end, Lynch had carefully painted himself as brave and fearless—initially infiltrating the robbers’ leader despite public opinion, changing some extreme plans, and making crucial efforts for everyone’s survival.

He deserved praise, not baseless accusations.

After over an hour, the hearing ended. Its details were only accessible to authorized personnel.

Overall, no one thought Lynch was at fault.

As they dispersed, two Safety Committee officials smoked with Lynch in a corner.

“Many people are unhappy with what you did on the ship and reported you, but we all know you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Still, once someone files a complaint, the process must be followed. You have to understand that.”

Lynch understood—his real frustration was with those who secretly reported him.

After some polite small talk, they parted ways.

Back at the hotel, many reporters had gathered outside; many wealthy guests stayed there.

When Lynch appeared, the crowd surged toward him, but he had plenty of bodyguards.

Standing at the hotel entrance, facing the media, Lynch said unexpectedly, “I will write about this experience, like a first Lynch Adventure—this will be the second.”

“If you want to know more details, maybe the book will tell you.”

Without waiting for a reaction, he entered the hotel.

When he reached his room, someone was already waiting.