"Dismissed!"
After Casare left, several senior staff members from the News Bureau leaned in and asked Augustine Przybylski, "Director, what should we do?"
"What should we do? Either get someone to make coffins and wait for death, or flip this entire Northern region upside down for me. I'm telling you, if the boss isn't happy, I'm not happy, and if I'm not happy, do you still want to be happy? When I die, I'll take you with me."
Augustine Przybylski cursed at them one by one, pointing fingers, and left in a fit of rage.
The subordinates exchanged glances.
"Let's do it, brothers, the Director really might do it."
...
Nighttime.
Mexico. Tijuana. Communications Building.
The colorful lights were bright, illuminating the surroundings.
If it were the past, many people would come out to stand here and admire the night view, which was considered quite beautiful.
But now...
The ground was covered in filth, garbage bins were overturned, and there was a stench everywhere.
