The atmosphere in the private room seemed to suddenly freeze, leaving only the gurgling sound of the boiling hot pot.
The middle-aged man raised his left hand, pressing it down slightly, making a gesture.
Only then did the others slightly relax their tense muscles.
He put down the bowl and chopsticks, turned to take an old-fashioned brick phone from his briefcase, pressed the answer button, and held the receiver to his ear.
A low voice faintly came through from the other end of the phone, speaking a few words of foreign language that the others couldn't understand.
The middle-aged man simply responded with two words, "Understood," and then decisively hung up the call.
Then he tossed the phone back into the bag and grabbed a napkin to wipe his mouth.
The attention of the other four people was entirely focused on him.
"There's a job to be done."
The middle-aged man spoke, his voice steady, with an inexplicable infectiousness.
