Instantly, the captain's facade crumbled, and he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation, "NOOOOOO, please, have mercy, sir! I was gravely mistaken!" But his anguished cries fell on deaf ears, having no impact on the unyielding presenter. Gradually, the captain's voice faded into oblivion, swallowed by the weight of his defeat.
Meanwhile, Desmond, having already been liberated from his captors, stood transfixed, his countenance etched with shock and disbelief.
"Is the young master unharmed?" the presenter inquired, approaching Desmond with his customary smile, as if their previous encounter had been erased from existence.
Yet, a flicker of nervousness betrayed the presenter's confident facade, manifested through his anxious swallowing and a solitary bead of sweat clinging to his forehead. The unmistakable aura of apprehension, as if afraid of displeasing this influential figure, did not escape the notice of the onlookers.
