In a teahouse of a commercial mall in Summit City, the headquarters of a business association from Iberian, sat two men in suits. One looked energetic, while the other seemed somewhat fatigued.
Among them, the bald man was the one Donald Edwards referred to as Mr. Lewis, though that was just one of his aliases. In the Subterranean Bank circle of Summit City, he went by the name Lewis.
Opposite him sat another compatriot from Iberian, who brewed him some tea and comforted him in Iberian: "Mr. Lewis shouldn't be so worried. Although your alias was exposed, neither your identity nor your appearance was revealed. It's a blessing in disguise."
Lewis waved his hand and gave a bitter smile: "Four and a half billion US dollars. Even my life isn't enough to repay it. Though they've urged me to pull out the funds quickly and aren't chasing it for now, it's because of the bigger picture. Once the situation stabilizes, I'll be expected to commit seppuku."
