Chapter 758: Are the PhDs from The Ninth Institute so young?_1

Brian Bonette sat on one side of the circular conference table, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, looking the very picture of respectability and handsomeness.

Only those who had dealt with him knew whether the scholarly exterior truly matched a gentle and handsome nature.

He had just taken off his glasses and set them on the table when someone rushed in, quickly slid up to his seat, and murmured to him in a low voice.

Two minutes later, the person slipped out as quietly as they had come in.

Brian Bonette dropped the relaxed and indolent air about him, rested his elbows on the leather chair, and with a headache-seeming expression, turned his head and said in a low voice to the man picking up his teacup, "There's been a problem."