Night had fallen.
Inside the Notting Hill Organization's fireplace meeting hall.
Sinisi, dressed in a proper suit, covered his mouth and nose with a handkerchief as he walked out of a room filled with foul odors and the stench of blood.
"Boss."
Flanking him, his trusted aides bowed respectfully, and one cold-faced young man laughed, "I really thought the mystics were something special, but they couldn't even handle the first round of interrogation before they spilled everything."
"I need more knowledge of mysticism, as well as spiritual materials and magical items..."
Sinisi sat at the head of the conference table, his expression serene.
People outside thought he was the undisputed king of Byron City's underworld.
But only he knew, he was just a clown!
That man had simply sent a message and he had willingly handed over his profitable illicit liquor business.
It was a humiliation!
