Lin Qi, stay for a minute. I have something to tell you.
Just before things wrapped up for the evening, Conner kept Lin Qi behind. The others left in silence, not even sparing them a single extra glance.
Once everyone had gone, Lin Qi took a seat opposite Conner.
Conner, meanwhile, looked out at the scenery beyond the window.
I'm worried. We've already done well enough, but...
The look of distress on his face was like used paper from a trash can in a restroom.
The ballots in the swing states had failed to form an advantage, leaving the final outcome with massive variables.
Despite how things currently looked—that he still had a chance to win the election—this was merely a "possibility" rather than a "certainty."
If this were just an ordinary game of cards, a loss was a loss, and the next round could begin shortly after.
This was the fucking presidential election. Fail, and there would be no second chance.
Before deciding to run, Conner had actually cared very little about such things, but once Gladstone dragged him into the race, whether he could win became exceptionally important.
The investment during the campaign involved not just the favors Gladstone owed, but also the campaign funds of the capitalists, alongside the personal favors and resources he had staked himself.
Losing this time would be the most severe "accident" of his political career.
In truth, as far as elections went, the pain borne by the losers was always infinite; it was just that no one paid attention to it once the campaign ended.
Conner did not want to lose. He wanted to win.
Slowly turning his head, he looked at Lin Qi. *Lin Qi, I know you're a capable man. If possible, can we... do some technical work on these