Late at night.
Cinderson had only just fallen asleep in high spirits when a rapid knock on the door woke him.
He picked up his glasses from the bedside table and put them on, then climbed out of bed with a frown, cursing as he stormed toward the entrance.
"Knock, knock, knock... knock your damn door! What time is it? Can't whatever it is wait until tomorrow, damn it?!"
At that moment, Cinderson clearly had not realized the seriousness of the situation. It had not even crossed his mind.
After all, word of the printing plant fire had not reached him yet, and the subordinates who had gone with the protest march had not returned to report to him.
If the news had reached him, he probably would have panicked a little—but likely only a little.
Whether it was bribing the printing plant employees or investigating the source of those newspapers, his subordinates had handled it all. He had merely pulled strings from behind the scenes.
At most, he had met them a few times during handoffs.
No matter how capable The Alliance's Administrator was, he could not possibly have eyes installed above Cinderson's head, could he?
He yanked open the door in a fury.
Cinderson was about to start cursing when he froze.
Standing before him were neither his secretary nor a hotel attendant, but a row of stern faces and identification papers practically shoved into his face.
The man at the front wore an officer's uniform and stared at him with icy eyes.
"We're from the Guard Corps. We suspect you of being a spy for the Bugra Free State and of inciting sabotage. You'll need to come with us."
"A-a spy?!"
Sweat immediately broke out across Cinderson's forehead. The sight of the heavily armed elite soldiers at