Just as Mrs. Klein looked outside, a sowhat familiar face, soone she had seen before, entered the café.
She glanced a few more tis; it was a woman dressed impeccably, though her kind of grace was different from that of Mrs. Klein.
If Mrs. Klein’s elegance represented the refinent of the wealthy, then the other woman’s was the sophistication of a politician!
She looked a bit more and then withdrew her gaze, feeling like she knew her, but not recognizing her.
Bupen has many senior officials, and it’s common to bump into a few just walking down the street, especially near the President’s Mansion, where officials are as common as ordinary people.
Thus, encountering officials here is nothing surprising for locals—only out-of-towners might be impressed.
She got up to leave, and at that mont, the woman who seed familiar to Mrs. Klein just sat down and called over the waiter, ordering a coffee priced at seven dollars and ninety-nine cents, along with a pastry assortnt, all for a total of ten dollars.
Including the tip, twenty dollars.
The pastry assortnt consisted of four differently colored pastries; all could fit in one’s mouth without filling it completely.
Yet it’s expensive, and very sweet!
It’s said these pastries are from a small country, with such complex crafting that often only a few succeed out of dozens made—in short, they’re costly, regardless of how cheap the ingredients might be.
The intense aroma of roasted coffee paired with the saccharine pastries—garnished with a mint leaf on the side—is a popular combo in the Federation.
If Mrs. Klein had watched the previous bowling competition, she would certainly rember that this woman was the one who claid second place.
Chris, an ordinary na.
She lightly touched up her makeup and waited for a while until another woman walked in.
She was dressed in a cinched-waist, erald green dress with many shiny little embellishnts which did not detract from its elegance.
She wore a hat of the sa color and sunglasses, and her wrist bore a small handbag.
She handed her hat to an employee and then sat opposite Chris, removing the sunglasses.
It was Mrs. Tracy.
"You’re playing with fire!" she whispered, "I warned you last ti, don’t always think about taking shortcuts!"
Chris used to be sowhat intimidated by Mrs. Tracy for various reasons; firstly, Mrs. Tracy’s father himself was a seasoned politician with extensive connections.
Secondly, her uncle was a regional Shepherd, influential in Nagariel and even the Federation.
Further, she herself was a leading figure in the feminist movent—none of them were simple characters, and should they unite their efforts, even if Chris’s husband was a Judge in the state court, it would be difficult to counter them.
But now, she wasn’t afraid anymore, because she had just slept with the President, who even invited her for another round of bowling.
At that mont, Mrs. Tracy, who she once feared, suddenly appeared rather ordinary; perhaps that’s the difference.
Standing at a higher place, what was once an insurmountable peak now seed like just a bulge on the ground beneath her feet!
It’s not even a peak—just a bulge.
"That’s my personal life, Tracy, you can’t ddle in my personal life, understand?" Her tone carried little heat, and even inwardly, there was little agitation.
As a "successful person," she felt an expansive embrace at that very mont.
Mrs. Tracy was greatly annoyed, "I treated you as a friend, you said you really wanted... I even helped arrange this for you, and now you treat like this?"
The two sat in the corner of the café, at a ti when there weren’t many people, nor would anyone pay attention to them.
Chris looked completely innocent, "Did I speak ill of you?"
"Or seduce your husband who you don’t even know where he is?"
"No, I did nothing at all; I only did what I feel I should do."
"You can’t ddle with this, understand?"
Mrs. Tracy was furious, nose nearly crooked, and wanted to take a different approach, "You need to consider your family; if these matters spread..."
"My husband supports ." A single statent blocked what Mrs. Tracy intended to say.
Mrs. Tracy swore, in her lifeti she had never seen such a shaless woman, nor her husband!
By this ti, she also understood that counseling had lost its practical aning.
After a mont of silence, she sighed, "I’ve said all I should say; in the future... try to minimize contact."
Finishing her words, she got up and left.
Interfering with the President’s personal life is highly dangerous, extrely dangerous.
Perhaps to Chris and her husband, this seed a shortcut to a higher social class, but sotis the key point of a shortcut is not ascending, but descending into Hell!
This kind of affair hasn’t only occurred once or twice in the Federation—it’s happened many tis.
Mrs. Trish was born into a political family, and the strong political atmosphere made her very aware of the consequences of such actions!
The President was propelled into office by various capitalists and major consortiums. They’ve invested far too much in the President; they won’t allow anyone to affect the President’s term!
No one, absolutely not.
If soone creates such danger, then the only fate for the person responsible is to completely, utterly vanish from this world.
Everything associated with him/her/it will completely disappear!
There won’t be any exceptions.
But if soone really wants to die, there’s no stopping it.
Mrs. Trish left disappointed, deciding she wouldn’t ddle in these affairs anymore.
Chris’s hand holding the coffee cup trembled slightly; inwardly, she was not as calm as she appeared.
She and her husband are facing a series of issues.
Her own company is on the verge of bankruptcy due to poor managent, and her husband, the Chief Justice of the state court, is also gradually losing his power and status for so reason.
The Ministry of Justice plans to replace him, offering him a position that’s prestigious but utterly powerless and insignificant.
Such a position... has no actual value or significance, lacking power and money, with life showing no future.
Perhaps only by taking shortcuts can this family be saved.
She put down the teacup, left twenty dollars, then stood up to leave, not touching any of the exquisite, seemingly adorable pastries, and she left just like that.
Everything returned to calmness. A young waiter ca to tidy the table, a lad with so freckles on his face. He glanced around, pocketed the four pastries, and returned to the counter with the empty plate, coffee cup, and the twenty dollars.
He planned to take these expensive pastries ho for his family to taste.
On the newspaper stand near the counter he passed by, the frantic scene at the exchange was prominently printed, with people excitedly waving their fists, at the heart of the entire picture, only the silver panel and its continuously ascending curve!
In the North, after the bombing ended, the warlords seed terrified, starting to actively retreat, allowing the Federation Security’s northern advancing forces to rapidly proceed without any obstruction.
In the first week of May, they were less than half a month away from the designated location, arriving earlier than planned.
Those who were initially tense had sowhat relaxed their vigilance by now, and Ryan clutched his gun all day, contemplating the night’s massive bombing.
During this ti, he had been pondering a question: what role can personal strength play in war?
Having personally witnessed that horrific bombardnt, his dream of wanting to be a hero had gradually dimd.
Because he realized, he had no chance to achieve it!
If there were masses of airplanes bombing overhead, how could he escape those bombs?
He couldn’t, which ant he, like the enemies who perished in the bombing, would eventually beco a cold number in the statistics.
The bombardnt extinguished his passion for becoming a hero, leaving him sowhat bewildered.
Days of garrison and patrol had alleviated much of the recent tension, and that afternoon, several transport trucks arrived from behind.
They did not stop at the camp; they headed straight to the designated location.
Watching those trucks, Ryan felt a bit puzzled. He saw a troop carrier fully occupied by Nagariel people; what was the point of bringing those savages here?
To release them into the wild?
Thinking this, he laughed first; the prejudice against Nagariel people persisted endlessly, calling them savages was probably a relatively gracious attitude.
In the mainstream Federation society, there’s even an extre ideology considering people from extrely primitive civilizations like Nagariel not as humans!
Yes, they believe Nagariel people and similar people are only human-like but not humans, they are so sort of animals, so there’s no need to grant them human-specific treatnts.
As for humanity and moral ethics, they are entirely unnecessary.
Ryan is not that extre, but he also doesn’t like Nagariel people.
In previous reports, these people had killed many foreign rchants, including Federation people.
The swiftly moving troop carrier brought the people to a forest edge, whereupon these individuals disembarked from the vehicle and began working under the overseers’ orders.
They carried so aluminum foil items into the forest, then sought out so rocks, spread the aluminum foil over the rocks, and used the tools they carried to compress it.
Looking like this, those stones seed to have transford into... silver!
At the foot of the mountain, so workers were scattering silver ore all around. Besides the overseers, Darkstone Security personnel were present, holding guns.
If anyone wanted to do sothing that violated the contract, they would promptly and unceremoniously shoot to prevent it.
The entire forest was silent, only so wild animals watched these humans curiously from afar, using their small brains to ponder what these people were doing.
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