Chapter 959: First Impressions 6663

Lapar is a relatively small country with a population of twelve million, its economy anchored in agriculture.

From this statement, one might form a certain impression—

Among twelve million people, there must be many farmers.

But in reality, farmers make up less than ten percent of the total population.

Because the largest and best farms here are controlled by the ruling elite; those who work the land for them are not true farmers—they are workers.

The land left for ordinary people is either poor-quality or privately reclaimed.

Lapar has many mountains and rainforests, making land reclamation difficult; owning even a small plot of land is already a rarity here.

Land represents the bare minimum needed for survival, with enough surplus to sell to the state or grain merchants for extra income.

Thus, “farmer” in Lapar does not mean the lower class; as property owners, they rise above most people and are considered respectable.

The propertyless and destitute lower classes form Lapar’s core population, surviving primarily by selling their labor, mostly as short-term workers.

According to Lapar’s official statistics from a few years ago, the average monthly income was about five hundred Pala.

Notably, this average refers only to those with jobs, excluding the unemployed—a common statistical practice in many nations.

After all, the elderly, children, and women often have no income in many countries; including them in the average would be unreasonable.

Lapar uses its own currency, the Pala.

The Pala is a minor currency with no settlement capacity on international markets, so it has little global circulation.

The official exchange rate set by Lapar’s government is ten Pala to one Federal Sol, a rate unchanged for decades.

But on the black market, one Federal Sol can be exchanged for roughly seventy Pala.

This difference is part of the livelihood for currency smugglers, who gather at foreign tourist entry points offering exchange rates more favorable than the official one.

Tourists can get sixty to sixty-five Pala per Federal Sol from them, but when leaving, to convert their remaining Pala back to Sol, they may have to pay seventy-two to seventy-five Pala.

They profit from this spread.

What about the official rate or exchanging at the Lapar National Bank?

Sorry, they never have enough Federal Sol—you can’t get one Sol for ten Pala here, but you can exchange one Sol for ten Pala, endlessly.

You have as much as you want, they’ll exchange it all.

As Lans stepped off the ship, many locals with bags quickly approached, but his men blocked them before they could get close.

He had prepared for the worst, but the reality was far better than expected—no one defecated openly, no excrement littered the ground, and the air wasn’t foul.

The currency traders, seeing no business here, quickly surged toward other tourists, waving stacks of Pala and shouting their rates.

Soon, deals were struck.

Many visitors to Lapar research beforehand; the market accepts Federal Sol directly, but gives change at the official rate—a clear scam.

Yet this scam is protected by local police; if you complain, they call the cops, and the tourists end up suffering.

So those who did their homework make currency exchange their first priority upon arrival.

Roger stood beside Lans, watching the crowd around him with a sigh. “I always thought I was poor, but standing here, I realize there are always worse conditions—and people living in them.”

“It’s like returning to the Empire—even worse.”

The Empire was poor too, with resources hoarded by nobles, but not this badly.

Many filthy children stood timidly at the edge of the dock, watched by men in what looked like police uniforms, holding sticks and glaring fiercely.

Further away were street vendors selling local specialties; the entire port looked nothing like the nation’s premier harbor.

More tourists disembarked as the Alliance of Asia and the Federation signed numerous pacts, fully opening the Alliance market; many who found no opportunities in the Federation now came to Aylan.

The Federation is full of success stories—books that constantly urge people to take the first bold step.

Some, swept up in passion, arrive in this unfamiliar land, dreaming of becoming the next architect of the Federation Dream.

But most simply vanish silently into the tide.

This is Lapar’s largest port, its capital city; Lans waited on the dock for over ten minutes before a luxurious convoy arrived.

The dock police immediately scurried over, bowed to the driver, confirmed something, then began driving away the beggars.

They beat them with sticks; even the filthy children dared not resist, vanishing in an instant.

Meanwhile, Gomes ran over from his car, spotting Lans and his entourage from afar.

He took a deep breath, smiled, stopped a short distance away, then stepped forward with arms outstretched.

“Mr. Lans!” Lans extended a hand, which Gomes gripped tightly, radiating fervent warmth. “Welcome to Lapar!”

Lans gave a slight nod and introduced him. “This is Mr. Roger, current chairman of the Imperial Merchant Guild.”

“We’ve come to see if there are any investment opportunities.”

Gomes paused, then shook Roger’s hand. “Chairman Roger, I’m Gomes, chairman of the Lapar Merchant Guild. I warmly welcome your investment here.”

He glanced around. “I’ve arranged a hotel. Let’s get in the car, rest up, and discuss details tonight?”

He had brought out his most luxurious convoy, but Lans didn’t move.

As Gomes puzzled, a line of vehicles slowly emerged from the cargo hatch of the passenger ship behind Lans.

He stared at the odd-looking cars, uncertain—square, no sleek curves, no aesthetic grace.

Even Gomes, living in backward Lapar, understood “elegant lines.”

Yet these vehicles gave him a sense of raw power.

Thick tires, high ground clearance—he doubted anyone could sit comfortably in them.

When the convoy reached Lans, he didn’t invite Gomes in; he got in himself.

Roger smiled at Gomes, then climbed in.

Soon, the hundred-plus people who came with Lans boarded the vehicles.

Clearly, these cars had advantages—at least they could hold a lot.

Gomes, still puzzled, returned to his own car, and under police escort, headed to the city’s largest hotel.

“You don’t like Gomes?” Roger asked softly beside Lans, sensing his coldness toward the man.

Lans didn’t deny it. “A slightly stupid ambitious man.”

Roger immediately smiled.

Alone, stupidity or ambition might not be off-putting—but together, they’re unbearable.

Thinking of this, Roger asked, “So will we still work with him?”

Lans considered a moment. “Why not?”

“I don’t like him, but cooperating with him is still possible.”

“He wants us to build a force capable of challenging the Diego family more than we do—only then can he keep what he has.”

“Status, wealth, privileges—all of it.”

Roger understood, and nodded.

Then both turned their attention to the city’s streets.

As Lapar’s capital and most prosperous area, its roads looked decent enough.

There were foreign tourists—some in groups of three or five, others a single adult male accompanied by a young local woman; this pairing was common.

Guiding—or escorting—services were widespread and ordinary across all of Aylan.

They offered tourists guidance and also satisfied their physical needs.

Some young women successfully left with foreign tourists for developed nations like the Federation, living the envied “Federation-style modern life,” so more women kept joining the trade.

At the port, Lans had noticed many girls, barely eighteen to twenty-two, dressed boldly, holding signs reading “Guide.”

For just one hundred fifty Pala—about two Federal Sol—you could hire them.

Honestly, it was far more cost-effective than directly helping needy girls.

They provided guiding services, emotional support, and could release the passion of arriving in a new environment at night.

As Lans’s convoy pulled away from the dock, he saw some female guides had already secured their first “order.”

But he didn’t find them shameful or pitiful—every place has its own rules of survival.

Don’t they want a better life?

They just have no other way.

(End of Chapter)

(End of Chapter)