Descartes

***

Meanwhile, somewhere in a deserted part of Seoul.

A room furnished in a European architectural style.

A table and chairs like those in a chairman's office stood in the room, with several classic armchairs beside them.

A heavy air hung over the room, lending it a solemn atmosphere.

Then a voice from the sofa nearest the table at the center of the room shattered that solemn mood in an instant.

“Ha… why the fuck is Gabriel suddenly ordering me around?”

The profanity in her low voice filled the room.

At the heart of it all, a woman in a multicolored suit sat on the sofa with her legs crossed.

Her name was Makina...