Feeling the gazes of the M.S.C. staff upon him, Wizet slowly nodded and gave them the answer they most wanted to hear. "Yes!"
"Since I hold the power of definition, that means I have the ability to make the 'recipe' controllable. Naturally, I can use that as a foundation to remedy all those 'flawed semi-finished products.'"
His words carried no impassioned promise; they were as ordinary as discussing the day's weather.
Yet that matter-of-fact calm seemed to contain some special magic, filling the M.S.C. staff with confidence.
Several of the younger M.S.C. staff feared they might cheer or scream, and nearly all covered their mouths at the same time, their knuckles turning white from the force of their grip.
The older M.S.C. staff were somewhat more reserved. They merely closed their eyes and leaned back in their chairs, fists clenched as their shoulders trembled uncontrollably, trying to suppress their emotions.
In truth, even the M.S.C. staff found it difficult to explain why they were willing to believe Wizet's words, when Lycanthropy had brought them discrimination, suffering, setbacks, and even despair.
Perhaps the source of that confidence was every day they had spent working at M.S.C.;
They received normal working conditions, wages that would never be withheld, and the extraordinarily precious Wolfsbane Potion...
More importantly, at M.S.C., they could feel the dignity of being treated as "people" rather than "monsters."
The "normality" they had long yearned for was, at M.S.C., just as natural as "discussing the day's weather."
That was why, when Wizet spoke in such a calm tone of something that could overturn their fates, they naturally chose to believe him.
It was the confidence Wizet had given them, as well as the confidence M.S.C. had given them.
"No!" The M.S.C. employee named Andrew seemed to have thought of something