Caesar Zimmich rose lazily from his chair, stretching with a series of cracks echoing from his bones.
The room, his private bedroom on the eighty-eighth floor of the Rexler Building, was decorated in resplendent gold, the height of luxury.
BANG BANG—
Banging on the door began. Through the LCD panel above the door frame, Caesar Zimmich could see his father's trusted Blood Clan guards desperately knocking from outside.
"Tsk."
Calmly, Caesar walked over and casually asked, "What's up, William?"
"Young Master, someone attacked the Iceberg Club and wiped out all the Blood Clan guards stationed there by the Miller Family," William said hastily. "Your friend Felix Miller has gone missing."
"What?!"
Caesar Zimmich was quite astonished, even forgoing his usually composed and indifferent expression.
It was not that he was worried about Felix Miller's fate—the life or death of such worthless acquaintances was not his concern.
