New York's Waldorf Hotel was hailed as "the focal point of all civilization." Perhaps no other hotel in the world had witnessed so many major historical events or hosted so many global luminaries, including countless political leaders from every country.
It was said that, at its busiest, thirty-two heads of state had stayed there at once. The political leaders and foreign ministers of all five permanent members had also lodged there, earning it the joking nickname of the "Little United Nations."
Today, beneath the reporters' flashing cameras, luxury cars pulled up one after another before the hotel. Socialites and business elites stepped out, impeccably dressed and composed. After presenting their invitations, they streamed into the reception hall under the attendants' guidance like a rising tide.
Around six thirty, night descended gracefully beneath an inky veil. New York, the city that never slept, sank into a blaze of dazzling lights and clamor. Harry stepped out of his new car with a beautiful, tall companion on his arm, apparently a fairly famous fashion model. He surveyed the tightly packed reporters and felt deeply satisfied.
At least I can't do worse than that Stark guy.
Today was Umbrella and Osborn Industries' celebratory reception. Sales of the genetic medicine were booming. With Worthington no longer interfering and the Metis Serum's vast potential, pharmaceutical representatives and manufacturers welcomed it with open arms. They practically wanted to carry Harry and Sean, the two young men, up into the sky.
Of course, after the turmoil last time, Harry had, at Sean's instruction, made examples of several ill-intentioned manufacturers. To establish one's position in an industry as quickly as possible, both offering benefits and demonstrating authority were indispensable—especially for fledgling giants like Osborn Industries and Umbrella.
Harry strode into the hotel in high spirits. As one of the