"Here are the prospects we have for this month, sir," a lean man with rimless glasses said, entering a prestigious office filled with plaques, medals, and certificates.
The sound of a basketball game resonated in the large room. Overlooking the office was an urban garden with a large artificial fountain, separating them from the rest of the city.
"Ah, fuck this country's team," the man muttered as they were overtaken by a 17-year-old prodigy.[1]
The assistant cleared his throat again, but the man raised his hand, rendering the former quiet.
Then, when the gap widened against their country's favor, the man threw his coffee cup toward the expensive television, shattering the screen into pieces.
Some of the glass splattered, and one shard grazed the assistant's face, making it bleed slightly.
However, he merely grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it away, seemingly used to such situations.
