Dim light poured in from the window behind the man. He stood there quietly, his posture upright but somewhat mysterious. An exquisite mask covered most of his face, and the backlit figure completely concealed his face in the shadows.
The assistant tried hard to see his expression clearly, but could only capture the little bits of light reflected by the mask and the blurry lines at the edge of his outline.
The interplay of light and shadow makes his facial contours deeper and deeper, as if he hides endless secrets and elusive thoughts.
"Why did you suddenly ask about the Dowell family..." The assistant stopped abruptly before he finished speaking, because he felt the strong gaze falling on his face, and the extremely oppressive gaze forced him to shut up subconsciously.
"I still need to explain to you what I'm doing." The man sat behind a large desk made of agarwood.
Agarwood is a very rare wood and its price is extremely high. The price of the best quality agarwood can reach 100,000 US dollars per kilogram, making it one of the most expensive woods in the world.
But in the mansion, such top-quality solid wood is only used to make the simplest furniture. What seems not worth mentioning is the priceless mural behind it.
The brightly colored oil painting travels through hundreds of years and takes people back to the gold-mining era when aristocrats arose in the Middle Ages. The man sitting under the oil painting is a descendant of the golden bloodline.
The assistant suddenly bent his knees and half-knelt on the ground, knocked his forehead on the carpeted floor, and shouted in a deep voice: "I'm sorry, Lord Count Reims."
"Ta-ta-ta." The man's fingers tapped lightly on the agarwood tabletop, like tapping on a person's heart, tapping on the nerve endings again and again.
Until the assistant's back was soaked with sweat.
He said calmly: "If you want to go back, I can plead with Theron on your behalf to send you back."
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