The silence inside the residence persisted for several long moments. Not a single breath could be heard, not even the faint rustle of fabric. The air itself seemed to hold its breath, heavy with unspoken tension.
Alex slowly placed the golden card back into the envelope. His movements were deliberate, almost ceremonial. The soft scrape of the card against the paper echoed in the stillness.
His expression had returned to its usual calmness, the earlier flicker of surprise已经完全消失. But Kremlin could still sense the change. It was not in Alex's face or posture. It was in the air around him, a subtle shift in the atmosphere that made the hair on Kremlin's arms stand on end.
Something about this invitation was different. Kremlin had served powerful masters before. He had witnessed threats that could shatter mountains and warnings that could freeze blood. But this was neither.
"Interesting."
