In the office above the Imperial Night Club, Heller sat in the chair he favored.
But today, the chair that usually enveloped him with a sense of security as if returning to the womb didn't bring much comfort.
Even his beloved amber glasses were taken off and placed on the desk.
The room was still full of smoke, and the senior officials all watched him as he pinched the bridge of his nose, his complexion not looking too good.
The accountant was calculating some numbers, and after about two minutes, he handed Heller a card with the final figure.
Heller glanced at it, expressionless.
"How was this figure calculated?" he looked at the accountant, his gaze somewhat fierce. If the accountant couldn't provide a satisfactory reason, he wouldn't mind making him bleed a little before the war started.
The accountant passed over a large sheet of paper. Heller's fierce gaze lingered on the accountant for a while before shifting to the paper.