Glasses Man delivered his parting words, then bared his teeth in a laugh, a sinister chill spilling from his throat.
He thought his scheme this time was absolutely flawless. No one could have found a single fault with it.
He stepped into a room where someone sat with their head lowered, fingers tapping away at a telegraph machine.
His eyes narrowed to slits, his gaze darkened, and his expression turned utterly serious.
"If I'm not mistaken, you're sending a telegram."
At those words, the little snail on the desk raised its head blankly and nodded over and over, looking hopelessly foolish.
Glasses Man gave a contemptuous sneer, not even bothering to look the other party in the eye.
"Then there's no need to send any more."
He raised his right hand and flicked it lightly upward in one clean, decisive motion.
He was already gone, taking that sinister chill with him as he left.
He had gone to tremendous lengths just to get his hands on that lead about the Dragon Bone.
Since it was an elixir of immortality, he had to drink it himself for all that effort to be worthwhile. Letting anyone else have it would be a complete waste.
He had harbored this desire for years. This time, no one would stop his plan. No one.
The elixir of immortality should belong to him alone, from beginning to end.
No one else had even the right to touch it. That was the one rule he had always held to, and it would never change.
His expression remained cold throughout, as though this was simply how everything ought to be done. There was nothing to discuss and nothing to explain.
Elsewhere, the situation was much the same. Someone else was also weighing up this deal.
A plump man