Jews

Inside a luxurious villa.

After leaving the Black House, Moy Mikel returned to the mansion he had bought and made a call.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

After ringing several times, the call was answered. A magnetic voice came from the other end: "Mikel, why are you calling so late? Is something important?"

"Mr. Issachar, something truly important happened tonight. You'll definitely be interested."

Moy Mikel recounted what had happened at the Black House that evening, and, as expected, it aroused intense interest on the other end.

"Oh? So the Beautiful Country government is really going to sit back and do nothing? That's truly disappointing. What exactly are they afraid of? They don't have the bearing of a Blue Star hegemon at all."

The voice on the other end was laced with mockery. Clearly, the Black House's decision had not pleased him.

Mikel shrugged and said, "The Jieko Group is indeed not someone to provoke. It's only right that they exercise caution over something like a national war."

"Caution upon caution, but they can't just ignore whether we live or die."

The man on the phone grew increasingly dissatisfied. After complaining a few more times, he hurriedly hung up. "Mikel, thanks for this. Our Jew Group will remember this favor."

Only a few minutes after the call ended, Mikel's other phone vibrated. A text message had arrived—a deposit notification.

It was a bank card he secretly held. An astonishing sum had been transferred into it, making Mikel grin from ear to ear.

At the same time, in New York, on Wall Street.

Inside a high-rise building, a man over fifty wearing pajamas stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows with a glass of red wine in hand. He gazed at the traffic below and the neon-lit streets, his face clouded with gloom.

In the