Late at night.
Sindison had just fallen asleep with a great mood, only to be woken up by a series of urgent knocks at the door.
He picked up his glasses from the bedside table, put them on, and frowned as he got out of bed, grumbling as he angrily walked toward the entrance.
"Knock, knock, knock... damn it! What time is it? Can't it wait until tomorrow, for heaven's sake!"
At this moment, Sindison hadn't yet realized how serious the situation was, and didn't even think about those possibilities.
After all, the news that the printing factory had caught fire hadn't reached here yet, and his subordinates who had gone with the protest group hadn't returned to report to him.
If he had received the news, he might have panicked momentarily, but that would likely have been the extent of it.
Whether it was bribing the printing factory's staff or investigating the sources of those newspapers, his subordinates handled everything; he merely controlled it all from behind the scenes.
