When Lynch spoke, his words were gentle and soothing, never giving off an aggressive impression. Instead, he came across like the boy next door—sunny, approachable, with a familiar vibe.
But at this moment, Lunit felt something entirely different. Lynch seemed like a mountain... no, like a cliff facing a storm.
He stood tall amidst the boundless ocean, waves driven by the raging storm crashing against him fiercely.
Yet these waves were merely waves, disappearing after raising a spray of water, unable to harm him in the least.
Lunit was like those waves—angry, loathsome, sorrowful, and mournful. Yet all his emotions amounted to nothing more than the spray after a wave, when faced with Lynch's sunny, smiling demeanor.
"No problem, Mr. Lynch..." he lowered his head, but also breathed a sigh of relief. The tens of thousands in net profit could keep his factory running for another couple of months, maybe three, which was good news for him.
