Chapter 161: Disturbance Arises! Hiroshi Nohara’s Countermeasure! Using Black Traffic Tactics!
On Sunday afternoon, Tokyo Television Station Studio 1.
This is the recording site for the ace variety show 《Starry Sky of Shining Stars》, and also the arena where fame, profit, and traffic clash in the entire Neon entertainment industry once a week.
Brilliant lights, like daylight, illuminated the stage filled with futuristic technology, revealing every detail.
Below the stage, hundreds of strictly selected professional fans waved their idol’s support signs, their young and fanatical faces filled with infinite longing for the approaching carnival.
However, the air backstage was filled with a stifling oppression, starkly different from the fervent atmosphere in front.
“Mr. Takeda, have you remembered everything?”
The show’s chief director, Eiji Kurosawa, a capable general of the Tokyo Faction, stood before the monitor in the control room, his face, usually adorned with a rogue’s swagger, now shrouded in an icy gloom.
He didn’t even turn around, merely staring intently at the screen at the man repeatedly practicing his signature “healing smile” in front of a mirror.
Yuichi Takeda, with over twenty years in the industry, was recognized in the Neon variety show world as the “King of Control.”
His face, always graced with a gentle smile, held an appropriate, professionally cultivated humility.
“Don’t worry, Director Yasui.” His voice was as smooth as jade, like a warm gem polished for a thousand years, revealing no sharp edges. “Flattery to the point of collapse, we’ve been playing this game for nearly twenty years. I guarantee we’ll elevate that young man named Nohara to the heavens himself, making it impossible for him to back down.”
“Excellent.” Eiji Kurosawa nodded with satisfaction. “Remember, control the heat. We just need to casually drop a spark named ‘class conflict’ onto his self-important powder keg. The rest will be left to those foolish masses; they’ll fan the flames as high as they can.”
“Understood.” Yuichi Takeda replied with a smile.
Just then, the side door of the studio was slowly pushed open.
Figures exuding an aura of pressure entered one after another.
Leading the way was Eiji Kurosawa.
This master, revered as a “Living Legend” in the Neon film industry, now stood like a silent mountain. Upon entering the studio, he stopped and quietly followed behind the young man.
In his sharp eyes, which had captured countless classic shots, there was now only unreserved admiration and… trust for the young man beside him.
Behind them were seven men, each with a distinct aura but all possessing unique charm.
They were the seven lead actors of 《Seven Samurai》.
And at the center of this “samurai legion” walked Hiroshi Nohara.
He was still in his simple casual wear, his smile gentle, as if attending a pleasant weekend tea party.
“Yo, isn’t this our ‘samurai legion’ arriving?”
Yuichi Takeda was the first to approach, his habitually gentle smile now blooming with an almost fawning enthusiasm. “Director Kurosawa! It is our program’s honor to have your presence! And Minister Nohara! My goodness, you are truly… a hundred times younger and more handsome than you appear on television!”
This exaggerated compliment, filled with “variety show flair,” only earned a faint nod of acknowledgment from Eiji Kurosawa.
Famous directors had always disdained variety shows.
Just as medieval knights were divided in the West, how could a battlefield knight who fought with real swords look down on court jesters?
Of course, Yuichi Takeda understood why.
Without a trace of annoyance.
He still smilingly invited them in.
“You flatter me.” Hiroshi Nohara smiled calmly and sat down at the guest table, which had already been prepared for them.
Soon, the program recording officially began.
“To all our viewers in front of your television sets! Good afternoon! Welcome to 《Starry Sky of Shining Stars》, exclusively sponsored by Kirin Real Estate! I am your old friend, Yuichi Takeda!”
Under the spotlight, Yuichi Takeda, like the most skilled conductor, instantly elevated the atmosphere with his infectious voice, pushing it to a small climax.
After a brief opening, he focused his “well-intentioned” gaze on the young man who had been calmly smiling the entire time.
“Today, our program is greatly honored to host a guest who can be considered a heavyweight in our entire Neon television industry, no, even our entire cultural circle!”
His voice was filled with operatic exaggeration and adoration. “He is the legendary, genius producer who, with just three works, completely overturned everyone’s fixed perception of the word ‘television’ – Minister Hiroshi Nohara!”
“Let us welcome him with the warmest applause!”
Clap, clap, clap, clap—!
Below the stage, a thunderous and ceaseless applause erupted instantly!
Hiroshi Nohara simply smiled and waved gently at the camera.
However, Yuichi Takeda clearly had no intention of letting him off the hook so easily.
“Minister Nohara, to be honest, I am your loyal fan!”
His face was filled with the fervor of meeting an idol. “I’ve watched every single one of your works at least ten times! Whether it’s the horror of 《An Shizhi》, the imaginative plots of 《World of the Strange》, or the joy of 《Super Change Change Change》, they all make me, an old guy who’s been in the variety show circle for nearly twenty years, feel… ashamed of my own inadequacy!”
“I often wonder, what kind of family, what kind of education, could cultivate someone like you, who at such a young age has already reached a height unattainable by any of us, a true ‘elite’?”
Hmm?!
As the word “elite” was uttered, Eiji Kurosawa’s sharp eyes subtly narrowed, almost imperceptibly.
The faces of the seven “samurai” also involuntarily showed a hint of vigilance.
They knew too well.
In a society already suffocated by rigid class structures, what “elite” truly meant.
It was a seemingly glamorous, but in reality, highly poisonous, gilded crown!
Once worn, it meant completely severing oneself from the vast “commoners,” the plebeian class, who formed the very foundation of this society!
Eiji Kurosawa instinctively exchanged a glance with the young man beside him.
The meaning in his eyes was clear—be careful! It’s a trap!
However, Hiroshi Nohara seemed not to have seen his warning gaze.
He calmly looked at the host, who was awaiting his answer with a “sincere” expression, and his face once again bloomed with a gentle smile of helplessness.
“Host Takeda, you are truly… too flattering.”
His voice was like a clear spring, gentle and devoid of any hint of pride or arrogance, flowing like a babbling stream as he softly spoke.
“If what I do is considered ‘elite,’ then my father, that old farmer still working with soil and crops in the countryside of Akita Prefecture, would probably be… Neon’s most deeply hidden, behind-the-scenes Emperor, wouldn’t he?”
“Pfft—!”
This self-deprecating answer, like the most precise comedic bomb, instantly detonated the entire venue!
A wave of good-natured laughter erupted from the audience!
A barely perceptible stiffness appeared on Yuichi Takeda’s face, usually adorned with a gentle smile.
He hadn’t expected this young man to so effortlessly defuse his treacherous first question by essentially “exposing his own weaknesses.”
“Hahaha, Minister Nohara, you are truly… amusing.” He forced a smile and smoothed things over, then cast his “scheming” gaze towards the upcoming movie.
“Speaking of which, Minister Nohara, I heard that the 《Seven Samurai》 you’re collaborating on with Director Kurosawa tells a story about ‘samurai’ saving ‘farmers.’ In your opinion, what is the biggest difference between ‘samurai’ and ‘farmers,’ these two vastly different classes?”
“Can it be said that ‘samurai’ represent the ‘elite’ of that era, the heroes who push history forward? And farmers, are they more like… a group of ordinary ‘commoners’ who need to be guided and saved?”
This question was a hundred times more insidious than the previous one!
It was no longer simple “flattery to the point of collapse,” but a naked attempt to dig a colossal pit for Hiroshi Nohara, a pit from which he would never escape, using the ultimate weapon that could tear society apart: “class conflict”!
If he dared to nod, even to show the slightest hint of agreement with “elites” or disdain for “commoners.”
Then, he would undoubtedly face the most frenzied public condemnation from the entire society!
But if he denied it.
He would also fall into the trap of “hypocrisy,” ultimately being perceived as the “hypocrisy of elites” tactic.
Yuichi Takeda was a master of such methods!
“Host Takeda, that is an excellent question.”
However, Hiroshi Nohara’s face remained calm and composed.
Then, he slowly began to speak.
“In my opinion, there has never been any distinction of high or low, noble or humble, between ‘samurai’ and ‘farmers.’ They are all simply pitiful beings, mercilessly crushed by a larger wheel of time.”
“The story of 《Seven Samurai》 is never about the conflict between ‘elites’ and ‘commoners.’ It’s about the end of an era.”
“The samurai, that class once representing honor and order, were cruelly abandoned by their time with the advent of firearms and the consolidation of centralized power.”
“And the farmers, that seemingly humble but vibrant class, survived with their cunning and resilience, becoming the masters of the new era.”
“So, you see.”
A subtle curve formed on Hiroshi Nohara’s lips.
“In this war, there were never any true victors. What was lost was the old era, which had long since decayed. What won was the coming new era, full of infinite possibilities.”
“Each of us, whether so-called ‘elite’ or so-called ‘commoner,’ is merely an insignificant ripple in the wave of this era.”
“What we can do is not to complain about class rigidity, nor to be jealous of others’ success. Instead, we should, like me, seize every opportunity that this era grants us to change our destiny.”
“After all, I, Hiroshi Nohara, am merely the son of a farmer from the countryside of Akita Prefecture.”
“It was by seizing the opportunity given to me by the era.”
“That I achieved this success!”
Silence.
Deathly silence.
The entire studio was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Everyone stared at the young man, their faces filled with incredulous shock!
They had never imagined that a seemingly simple entertainment interview could be elevated by a young man in his early twenties to a philosophical height that would provoke deep societal reflection!
“…” Yuichi Takeda, the “King of Control” who had dominated the variety show scene for nearly twenty years, his usually gentle smile stiffened slightly.
He stared at the young man as if he were looking at a monster in human skin!
All the traps he had laid, all the poisons he had prepared, seemed so childish, laughable, and fragile in the face of this young man’s all-seeing, god-like perspective!
Is this really just a twenty-three-year-old graduate?!
“Well said!”
Amidst this dead silence filled with shock and absurdity, a hearty exclamation, like a clap of thunder from clear skies, finally shattered the solidified air!
Eiji Kurosawa, the master who had been like a silent mountain from beginning to end, slammed his thigh loudly. His weathered face was filled with genuine admiration and pride!
“This is the movie I, Eiji Kurosawa, want to make! This is the core spirit that we, 《Seven Samurai》, truly want to convey to all audiences!”
This definitive statement, full of “official endorsement,” was like the loudest slap, hitting Yuichi Takeda’s already pale face!
And it completely declared the total defeat of the “flatter to collapse” plan, filled with schemes and conspiracies!
…
When the program recording ended, the “samurai legion,” thoroughly impressed by Hiroshi Nohara, surrounded their “commander-in-chief” and marched out of the gunpowder-scented studio. Every one of them had an expression of irrepressible excitement and… lingering fear, like survivors of a disaster.
“Outrageous! Utterly outrageous!”
Shunpei Makino, who played Chiyo, a young man whose temper was as fiery as his character, was the first to lose his composure, throwing his water bottle to the ground with a crash!
“That scoundrel named Takeda! He’s not human! Every word was a trap! Every syllable was a knife! If it weren’t for the minister’s quick reaction, we would have been utterly trapped and killed in there today!”
“Exactly!” Taiji Miyoshi, the veteran actor playing Kanbei, nodded with lingering fear, his usually steady face etched with solemnity. “These guys from the Tokyo Faction are truly… resorting to any means. They even dare to use ‘class conflict,’ a poison that could shake the foundations of the nation. They truly want to destroy us.”
“Minister, what do we do next?” All eyes focused on the young man who had been calmly smiling the entire time.
“What do we do?”
Hiroshi Nohara chuckled at the question, and a chilling glint flashed in his clear eyes.
“Simple.”
He looked at the Kanto Faction elites before him, now completely won over, and a gentle smile returned to his face.
“Everyone, don’t worry. If they want to play, we’ll play with them. The more they try to push us into the ‘class’ pit, the higher we will raise the banner of ‘era’.”
“Negative traffic is still traffic. The more they stir things up, the more curiosity it will generate among the audience for our movie. By then, when the movie is released, all their schemes will crumble on their own.”
“Because, truth is always the best weapon.”
This declaration, filled with confidence and composure, like the gentlest warm current, instantly soothed all the unease and anxiety in everyone’s hearts.
“But…” Eiji Kurosawa, the master who had seen through the vicissitudes of life, still had a deep worry in his sharp eyes. “Human hearts are the most unpredictable. What if… what if the incited masses are unwilling to go to the cinema to find the so-called ‘truth’?”
“They will.”
A knowing smile, the smile of a chess player in control, curved Hiroshi Nohara’s lips.
“Because, we still have our second ace.”
He looked at their perplexed eyes and slowly uttered the name of a completely new battlefield, full of joy and infectious charm.
“Let’s go, everyone. Next stop, 《Laughing Wednesday》.”
…
Compared to the “high-brow interview” verbal sparring of 《Starry Sky of Shining Stars》, the recording site of 《Laughing Wednesday》 was more like a large children’s playground filled with whimsical ideas.
The traps here were no longer the “soft knives” of linguistic art, but various “hardcore pranks” of physical, malicious intent.
When Eiji Kurosawa, a master deeply respected in the Neon film industry, was arranged by the program to wear a comical samurai armor and slide down a giant foam slide, screaming…
When the seven handsome “samurai” were asked to pick up squirming loaches from ice cubes with chopsticks…
When Hiroshi Nohara was probed by the equally seasoned host with an insinuating question, “Minister Nohara, I heard your movie invested nearly three hundred million, so roughly how much do you personally stand to gain from it?”…
He simply smiled calmly, then pointed to the beside him, the already laughing, image-ruined Director Kurosawa, and said in a tone of faux, Versailles-like distress:
“Money? How could I dare to think of it. If I can keep this senior, senior, senior predecessor, who is like Konjac jelly, happy, and prevent him from dragging me to drink all night, I’ll already be… thanking my lucky stars.”
This complaint, full of “junior to senior” deference, instantly drew roaring laughter from the entire audience!
It also effortlessly neutralized the trap filled with “smell of copper” into nothingness.
This promotional battle, filled with joy and contrasting charm, ultimately declared the Kanto Faction’s victory with an overwhelming triumph!
…
A week later, an invisible depth charge seemed to have been dropped into Tokyo’s air.
Beneath the seemingly calm surface, currents were surging, and danger lurked everywhere.
【Hiroshi Nohara – Independent Production Department】.
The office, once filled with youthful energy and laughter, hailed as the “holy land” for young people at Tokyo Television Station, was now shrouded in suffocating oppression.
The young interns no longer chattered about the latest creative ideas as usual, but lowered their heads, silently organizing documents, their young faces filled with confusion and… wavering.
The experienced senior employees, though still rapidly typing on their keyboards, found their fervent worship of their minister’s god-like abilities replaced by a more complex emotion of doubt.
The entire department was like a precision machine with its core gear removed; though it still ran on inertia, it had lost the momentum to crush everything and advance.
“Minister…”
Yō Kitagawa entered the minister’s office, holding a cup of freshly brewed top-grade Blue Mountain coffee, her movements cautious.
She watched the young man sitting calmly behind his desk, effortlessly conjuring wondrous worlds on a blank drawing paper. The always sparkling big eyes of hers were now veiled with a misty moisture.
In her hand, she clutched several newspapers and magazines, which she had already read countless times, their corners slightly curled.
On them, printed in the most prominent and malicious font, were headlines that would enrage anyone with a shred of conscience.
【Son of a Farmer, Ungrateful Wretch? Genius Producer Hiroshi Nohara’s Drunken Revelation: Commoners Are Merely Lambs to Be Guided!】—《Shukan Bunshun》
【 Exclusive scoop! 《 Seven Samurai 》 script content with a shocking twist! Hiroshi Nohara, through the samurai, scathingly calls farmers “cunning, stingy, and murderers”! 】—《 FRIDAY》
【 From the pride of Akita to the “elite” of Tokyo, Hiroshi Nohara’s path to ruin! 】—《 Asahi Geino》
Each article, filled with malicious speculation and out-of-context reporting, was like a poisoned knife, fiercely stabbing the young man who had been placed on a pedestal by them not long ago, from all directions.
“Minister, you…” Yō Kitagawa’s voice was choked with unshed tears, “This… this is all their nonsense! They’re jealous of you! They’re deliberately trying to smear you!”
She gently placed the coffee cup on the desk. In her usually energetic eyes, there was now only concern and grievance for her minister.
“We… we all believe in you! We know you’re definitely not the kind of person they say you are!”
“I know.”
Hiroshi Nohara finally put down his pen.
He looked up at his most loyal young fan, who was already on the verge of tears, his gentle smile unchanged.
He didn’t even glance at the newspapers that were already causing a huge stir outside. He calmly picked up the steaming cup of coffee and took a sip.
“Don’t worry, Kitagawa,” his voice was calm, “these small waves can’t capsize the ship.”
This nonchalance, this composure as if everything was under control, was like the most potent tranquilizer.
It gently soothed all of Yō Kitagawa’s anxieties.
She looked at her minister’s eyes, which were calm and unruffled. Her heart, which had begun to waver, became firm again!
That’s right!
This is Minister Nohara!
He’s the god-like man who turned the entire Neon Television Industry upside down with just three works!
How could a mere public opinion disturbance possibly bring him down?!
However, just as she looked at him with worship, the office door was suddenly pushed open.
Asumi’s sophisticated and beautiful secretary, with an unprecedented seriousness on her face, hurried in.
“Minister Nohara,” her voice held a hint of uncontrollable anxiety, “Deputy Director Asumi asks that you come to his office immediately. Director Kurosawa, and… Director Yasui and Director Ito are already there.”
“Mm, I understand,” a knowing smile played on Hiroshi Nohara’s lips.
He put down his coffee cup and walked over.
…
In Asumi’s office, smoke swirled, and the atmosphere was so heavy it felt like water could be squeezed out.
The Deputy Director, who could make any producer tremble outside, paced back and forth in front of the large rosewood desk like a thoroughly enraged lion.
The Cuban cigar in his hand was already slightly deformed from his grip, and his usually elegant and calm face was now as gloomy as if it could drip water.
Opposite him, Takashi Yasui and Ito Chōan, the “Variety Twin Stars” of the Tokyo Faction, were like two children who had done wrong, heads bowed and silent.
Their usually arrogant faces were now filled with just the right amount of bitter “grievance” and “innocence.”
And beside them, Eiji Kurosawa, the master revered as a “living legend” in the Neon film industry, sat quietly on the sofa like a dormant volcano.
He said nothing, but his eyes blazed with a furious rage potent enough to incinerate the entire office!
When Hiroshi Nohara opened the door, his calm and reassuring presence at the doorway drew all eyes, like iron filings to a magnet, focusing squarely on him.
“Hiroshi-kun!”
Asumi was the first to step forward, his eyes filled with uncontainable anger and… concern.
“You… you’ve been wronged!”
This opening, full of a “protective” tone, carried more weight than any inquiry steeped in bureaucracy.
“Deputy Director Asumi,” Hiroshi Nohara simply smiled calmly and sat down on the main sofa with ease.
This nonchalance, this air of having everything under control, caused the hearts of Takashi Yasui and Ito Chōan, already suspended, to plummet uncontrollably!
They looked at the young man, and a hint of worry appeared in their eyes.
They were the hunters who had set the trap, so why did they now feel like pathetic prey whose every card had been seen through by the other?
“Hmph! Wronged?!”
Eiji Kurosawa finally couldn’t help himself. He slammed the 《 Shukan Bunshun 》 in his hand onto the center of the conference table. The loud thud shook the entire office!
“This is being wronged?! This is outright murder! Naked character assassination!”
He pointed at the two variety directors, whose faces had turned pale with fear, his sharp eyes spewing a rage that could burn a person alive!
“I ask you two! How did you edit your program?! Why did the words of profound scope and wisdom spoken by Nohara-kun turn into a pile of ‘elitist’ garbage, nonsensical trash in your program?!”
“And! That line about ‘farmers’! That was the most profound and accurate interpretation of our nation’s tragic fate that I, Eiji Kurosawa, have ever heard in my life! But in your mouths, it became Hiroshi Nohara ‘scathingly criticizing farmers’?! Have you dogs eaten your conscience?!”
This straightforward and violent questioning was like two resounding slaps to the faces of Takashi Yasui and Ito Chōan, stinging fiercely!
“Director Kurosawa! You… you’ve misunderstood! We… we really didn’t!”
Takashi Yasui was the first to react. His face, usually bearing a dissolute look like a playboy, was now filled with feigned innocence, “We… all the content broadcast by our program has been strictly reviewed! There is absolutely no malicious editing! We… we simply broadcast every word Minister Nohara said at the scene, exactly as he said it!”
“Exactly! Exactly!” Ito Chōan quickly nodded in agreement, “As for those reports in newspapers and magazines, that… that has nothing to do with us! It’s the audience, the media, themselves, who took things out of context and interpreted them maliciously! We… we are also victims!”
“As you know, these third-rate newspapers just love to make things up out of thin air! You also know that their sales rely entirely on scandalous and fake news!”
“So what does this have to do with us?”
This sophistry, filled with “professionalism” and “innocence,” was a textbook example of passing the buck.
They easily shifted all responsibility onto the “stupid” audience and the “unscrupulous” media.
Portraying themselves as innocent white lotuses, also harmed by public opinion.
“Nonsense!”
However, Eiji Kurosawa clearly wasn’t buying their act!
He slammed the table, his weathered old face etched with unconcealed contempt and disdain, “The art of editing, you two have truly mastered it! Misaligning audio and video, splicing contexts, and then adding suggestive subtitles and background music… Do you think this kind of low-class tactic is something I, an old man who has been making movies my whole life, wouldn’t see through?!”
“You are simply insulting the word ‘director’!”
This incisive exposé, full of “professionalism,” was like the sharpest knife, precisely slicing through the veil of hypocrisy that the two had woven with lies and feigned innocence!
Takashi Yasui and Ito Chōan’s faces froze instantly.
They hadn’t expected that this seemingly stubborn old man, who only knew how to make movies, would actually be so well-versed in the “unspoken rules” of their variety show circle!
“Enough!”
In the midst of this tense atmosphere, Asumi’s voice, as cold as ice and devoid of any warmth, finally sounded slowly.
He slowly extinguished his cigar, his eyes calmly gazing at the two clowns whose cards he had already seen through.
“Yasui, Ito.”
His voice was soft, slow, like a lover’s whisper, yet it carried a cruelty that could send a chill down anyone’s spine.
“I’m giving you one last chance.”
“Now, immediately, right away, get out of this office.”
“Then, use your best methods to extinguish this fire that you yourselves started, completely and without missing a single bit.”
“If you can’t do it…”
He paused, a cold smile on his lips.
“…then I, Asumi, will show you that if I want to take revenge on two second-class directors, Takada won’t be able to protect them!”
This pronouncement, full of the air of an “ultimatum,” instantly pressed down on the already fragile nerves of Takashi Yasui and Ito Chōan.
They knew that Asumi was truly intent on revenge.
However, in the midst of this tense atmosphere, the young man who had remained calm all along slowly spoke again.
“Deputy Director Asumi, please don’t be angry yet.”
Hiroshi Nohara put down his tea cup and slowly stood up under the astonished and confused gazes of the three.
He walked up to the two “culprits,” who were already ashen-faced, and a gentle smile of helplessness reappeared on his face.
“Director Yasui, Director Ito. This matter is not your fault.”
“Eh?!”
Takashi Yasui and Ito Chōan suddenly looked up, their eyes, panicked by Asumi’s threat, filled with incredulous absurdity!
He… he’s speaking up for us?!
“It was me.”
A self-deprecating smile touched Hiroshi Nohara’s lips.
“I… I underestimated the terrifying provocativeness of the word ‘class’ in our already solidified society.”
“So this fire, since I started it myself.”
He paused, and under the increasingly confused gazes of the three, he slowly smiled:
“Then naturally, I should be the one to put it out myself.”
He turned around, looking at Asumi, who was completely stunned by his earth-shattering statement, and a smile of confident wisdom reappeared on his face.
“Deputy Director, please make an arrangement for me.”
“Tomorrow morning at ten o’clock, in our station’s largest Studio One, I want to hold a press conference for all mainstream media in Neon.”
“I want them to witness firsthand.”
A gleam flashed in his clear eyes, “How a new era, belonging solely to me, Hiroshi Nohara, is about to descend.”
…
The door to Asumi’s office closed again.
Takashi Yasui and Ito Chōan walked down the corridor, so quiet one could hear their own heartbeats, like two dogs whose spines had been removed, utterly dejected.
In their minds, the young man’s “well-intentioned” reminder as he left was still echoing.
“Oh, and Director Yasui, Director Ito.”
“I would be honored if you two would grace us with your presence at tomorrow’s press conference.”
“After all, the real show is just beginning.”
That playful smile, those confident eyes, like two insurmountable mountains, pressed down fiercely on their hearts, leaving them breathless.
“What… what does he want to do?” Takashi Yasui’s voice trembled.
“I don’t know,” Ito Chōan shook his head, his face filled with unprecedented solemnity.
“All I know is…”
He paused, and a hint of deep fear flashed in his eyes hidden behind his glasses, “I think we’ve really messed with a monster we absolutely cannot afford to provoke this time.”
