Alfred clenched his hands slightly, then slowly released them. Though autumn had already brought a chill, traces of sweat still lingered on his palms.
For a long time, Alfred had been a program host at Rojia City's television station. He was composed and elegant, his exquisite burgundy suit making him a phantom on the streets at night.
He could have continued living that way, like an aristocrat in the shadows, indulging in luxury and occasionally adding a touch of spiritual decadence when the mood struck.
But all of that had changed completely once he settled on a goal: to appear in a mural!
To that end, he had studied painting skills, while also studying and appreciating murals from various churches to improve his sense of composition.
At this moment, he was forcibly suppressing the overwhelming excitement and emotion within him. Though his gaze was calm, he unconsciously lowered it to hold back the tears that threatened to mist his eyes at any moment.
Someday, when he depicted today's scene in a mural, he would have to add an inscription beneath it:
This was the first time the young master (the great being) had expressed his discontent and anger through direct confrontation in public. Its significance lay not merely in a standoff that could erupt into conflict at any moment, but in a rising force sounding the charge against the established structure, raising the curtain on the great replacement of the old order with the New Order!
Unfortunately, there was no piano beside him. If there had been, Alfred would certainly have touched its keys and played the most fitting accompaniment, matching a stirring rhythm to a recitation of "My Lord's Mercy."
It was a regret, but also an area for improvement in the next stage. Alfred believed that, after this