It was already half past five.
It was ti for the employees’ dinner.
According to the company’s charter, it should also be the normal ti to leave work.
The chairman tidied up his desk, having finished his work for the day, and prepared to make do with a al in the office.
Since experiencing a life-or-death crisis a week ago, he no longer ate food brought by soone else, instead choosing to use the microwave in his office to heat up simple convenience foods or to prepare sothing in the oven.
Over the week, he had co to realize sothing: with enough money, these convenience foods could be made quite delicious; his past view of them had been nothing but prejudice.
The chairman stood up and slowly walked toward the fridge.
"What shall I have for dinner?" he muttered, pulling open the two fridge doors and scanning from top to bottom, picking from the identically packaged boxes.
Eventually, his eyes landed on a box at the very bottom, labeled "Dragon Fish."
It seed he hadn’t had fish in a while; today could be an opportune ti to have so.
Thinking this, the chairman took out the box, glanced at the detailed information on it, and turned to walk toward the dining area on the other side of the office.
About four or five days ago, he had arranged for a temporary dining area to be set up in his office, complete with an oven, microwave, and a set of table and chairs.
The main purpose of this room was to keep the scent of his food from spreading to his office area, so it was enclosed entirely in glass, complete with a ventilation system.
He walked up to the glass doors of the dining area, and after his identity was confird by the scanner above, the doors quickly opened.
"Dragon Fish... Grade A3," he read from the label on the box, then he unpacked it, discarding the outer wrapping into the oven and pressing the A3 setting.
Since it was convenience food, everything was optimized for utmost convenience; the chairman didn’t have to do anything else but wait calmly.
And so he stood by the oven, leaning against the edge of the sink, and activated his wristwatch.
The Simulated Light Screen materialized in front of him, and he reached out with his right hand, grasped the screen, and then flung it toward the glass door.
Imdiately, the glass door dimly lit up, and the two doors combined to form a large screen for the chairman’s use.
He accessed Lonely City’s popular video site, Pili Pili, and tentatively searched for "Sages Group."
The search results did not include the video that exposed the scandals of the group; it only showed a few videos discussing the issue, mostly by lesser-known uploaders, with views ranging from a few thousand to a hundred thousand, nowhere near as impactful as that video.
First control the reviews, then reduce the recomndations for the video, and finally make it semi-unavailable—not searchable, but it could still lie in other people’s favorites.
A quiet process and gradual dilution of public attention would soon make the netizens completely forget about the matter.
After all, in this city, countless new hot topics erged every day, continually capturing people’s attention.
Moreover, if sothing didn’t happen to oneself or near oneself, no one could truly empathize.
Just wait, in another couple of weeks, all he needed was to make a public appearance for so charitable act and have the Public Relations Departnt craft a positive image for him, and this would all pass.
But he hadn’t co out of this completely unscathed; he had paid a significant personal toll to secure support from above.
These favors had to be repaid with real benefits, all thanks to those people.
Hughes, the Rift, and those at the police station.
A shadowy gloom lingered in the chairman’s eyes, as he silently clenched his fist.
He was never a person of great magnanimity; once this matter was thoroughly resolved, he would find every way to take his revenge.
anwhile, unbeknownst to him, the kitchen faucet slowly began to leak water, which gradually accumulated in the sink.
A head erged from the water, first transparent like the water, then gradually taking on color in the air.
The Fish Mother stared at the man whose back was turned to her, confird he was the target, and then her upper body erged from the water, taking solid form in the air.
Two tentacles also stretched out, slowly reaching toward the unsuspecting chairman—this scene, if viewed from a god-like perspective, would definitely fit a Horror film.
Though, typically, horror films wouldn’t feature such a beautiful specter.
The tentacles crept through the air, inching closer to the chairman, but suddenly, the Fish Mother twitched her nose, keenly catching a particular scent in the air.
The aroma of baked fish, tinged with a hint of lemon.
She licked her lips, an inevitable craving appearing in her eyes, her tentacles pausing montarily in the air.
"Ding—" At that mont, the oven finished its secondary processing of the Dragon Fish, and automatically opened, the tray sliding out slowly.
The chairman glanced over, but paid it no heed.
It had just finished baking, and the inside was still very hot—he didn’t want to touch it.
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