Chapter 193
The crackling of electricity through high-powered speakers cut through the crowd's shouting as everyone instinctively looked up. On the wall, the front page of "Voice of Saint Lorran" appeared, immediately followed by an enlarged photo showing uprooted mangrove saplings.
"This photograph was taken yesterday at 3:17 PM," Margaret's voice carried clearly across the entire block, calm yet powerful. "Our geological survey team last entered this area five days ago. Here is the vehicle access record, provided by the port authority."
A form bearing an official stamp projected alongside the image. The screen then switched to a precise satellite map with color-coded zones.
"As for this mangrove forest... it's not even within the planned areas for phase one, two, or even phase three of our project."
The crowd's roar diminished as confusion spread across many faces.
"Now, let's discuss the Blue Feathered Kingfisher," Margaret paused deliberately as a video call window appeared on the wall.
An elderly man came into view, with a research room filled with bird charts behind him. Someone in the crowd recognized him—Adrian, Saint Lorran University's most respected ornithologist.
"Mr. Tavirog," Prof. Sorevan's expression was grave. "As a scholar, I must point out that your report contains serious factual errors. The Blue Feathered Kingfisher requires specific freshwater marsh environments for nesting, while the project area consists of saltwater tidal flats."
"Attributing their endangered status to a project that hasn't even broken ground is an insult to science and a deception of the public."
Joel's face instantly flushed red. He wanted to argue back, but realized the once-frenzied crowd was now looking at him differently.
"Who is the real deceiver here?" Margaret's voice resonated again. "Who is exploiting your goodwill and love for your homeland to achieve their own dirty business objectives?"
Her gaze locked onto several people in Shimazu Group uniforms quietly backing away through the crowd. The spotlight moved with almost sentient precision, following those individuals until they were suddenly exposed with nowhere to hide.
"Shimazu Group people!" someone shouted.
"It's them! He slipped me money earlier!"
The crowd's emotions reversed course, their anger finding a new target. Just then, melodious chanting approached from the distance, cutting through the chaotic atmosphere. The crowd automatically parted to create a path.
An elderly monk in saffron robes, holding a ceremonial staff, slowly walked forward surrounded by several younger monks. It was Sangji, Saint Lorran's most revered monk—even government officials bowed with palms pressed together in his presence.
The commotion completely subsided as everyone lowered their heads, joined their palms, their faces showing reverence and awe.
Sangji approached the small building and gazed at Margaret with cloudy yet wise eyes. Margaret descended the steps and greeted the monk with the local palm-pressed gesture. Sangji nodded slightly, circling the office building and sprinkling blessings with a branch dipped in holy water.
Then, he turned to face the crowd, his voice aged but serene: "Light will dispel darkness. What brings light to this land is good deeds."
He didn't mention the project or business—he simply spoke of "light." A simple word, yet it bestowed sacred legitimacy on Margaret New Energy Group's project.
Margaret bowed again, then straightened to address the now completely calm crowd. "Margaret New Energy Group has come to Saint Lorran not to plunder, but to coexist. In addition to the contracted power grid construction, we will provide additional funding to build a modern school and a community clinic with full medical services."
If Sangji's blessing was a balm, this announcement was a shot of adrenaline. A school. A hospital. These were the most desired and scarce resources for ordinary citizens of Saint Lorran. The crowd remained silent for a few seconds before erupting into deafening cheers. Those who had been shouting "get out" now had faces beaming with genuine joy and gratitude.
The crisis had completely dissolved within three hours.
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The next day, all negative news about Margaret New Energy Group vanished from newspapers and the internet. In their place were headlines about Margaret's promise to build a school and hospital, alongside large photos of Sangji blessing the project.
Frank burst into Margaret's office with new intelligence, his face showing a mixture of awe and confusion. "Ms. Kennedy, Shimazu Group has... withdrawn."
"Withdrawn?" Margaret asked.
"Yuichi Tanaka, their point person, flew back to Shinagawa City on a private jet late last night, citing 'urgent family matters.' Early this morning, Shimazu Group headquarters announced the complete termination of all bidding activities in Saint Lorran and sent us an apology letter."
Frank placed the letter—worded so humbly it bordered on sycophantic—on the desk. "And that reporter Joel? He confessed to all evidence of accepting Shimazu Group bribes. The editor-in-chief of Voice of Saint Lorran fired him overnight."
In a single night, the opposition's front had completely collapsed. Too quickly to make sense.
Frank believed Margaret's masterful handling had terrified the competition into submission. Only Margaret knew things weren't that simple. Her public relations move had been an open gambit, a transparent strategy sufficient to defuse the crisis but not enough to make a century-old conglomerate like Shimazu Group flee in such a humiliating fashion.
Behind this, there must have been an invisible knife—quick, precise, and deadly—thrust into Yuichi's weak spot.
Richard.
This feeling of being protected made her feel increasingly ensnared in an invisible net drawing ever tighter.
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Saint Lorran's rainy season arrived without warning—one moment scorching sun, the next torrential downpour. With the project on track and Frank's team now self-sufficient, Margaret completed the handover and boarded a flight back home. She hadn't notified anyone in advance.
After landing, she had her driver take her directly to the Neville Group Building. She sent Rex a message: [Is Mr. Neville in? I'd like to see him.]
Rex nearly dropped his phone when he saw it. He immediately called back, his voice hushed: "You're back? Mr. Neville is in a meeting. Please wait, I'll... I'll inform him right away!"
"No need. I'll wait for him at the café downstairs," Margaret ended the call.
Half an hour later, Richard walked in. He had come straight from the conference room, still wearing his impeccably tailored dark suit, though he'd loosened his tie.