Glo Alno, Count of the realm, was sitting lifelessly in his opulent office. The room was dark, a bottle of brandy on the desk that was already open, but the glass was empty. His bloodshot eyes never glanced at the bottle or the glass; instead, he was fixedly staring at the floor-to-ceiling window opposite him. The flames and flashes from explosions outside lit up his pale face, which resembled that of a dead man; with each explosion, the muscles on his cheeks twitched.
The situation had completely spiraled out of control. The deputy governor who had swaggered in front of the window in the afternoon, admiring how the crowd was shot down like shooting dead dogs and watching students die as they bled out on the ground, and even unusually drank a glass of brandy in celebration, was now calculating the countdown of his life. It wouldn't be long before the mob would storm the Governor's Mansion and settle the score with him based on his conduct during the day.
