I had barely taken a few steps when Malcolm, who was sitting across from me, suddenly slammed his hand on the table.
Immediately, a dozen or so burly men in black suits rushed into the room.
I noticed the nameplates on their chests: Fitzroy Group. It was a well-known industry leader in Langston City.
Malcolm downed the drink in his glass in one go, then burped.
"Griffin, did I say you could leave?"
I couldn’t help but narrow my eyes. "My legs are attached to my body. Do I need to report to you about where I’m going?"
Malcolm burst into laughter after hearing my words. "You’re just a lowly civil servant. Don’t you realize whose turf you're on? The whole restaurant is owned by my family. Don't you think you need to report to me? Without my permission, you’re not leaving through that door today."
The class leader sensed the awkward atmosphere and immediately stepped in, saying a few polite words to ease the tension.
"Hey, hey, both of you, calm down! We’ve been classmates for over a decade, no need to let something so small ruin the mood."