Chapter 442: Lucky Day?

Ah, this…

Hearing the cries coming from inside, Leon, standing guard outside in a miniature uniform, blinked in surprise.

Just hours ago he learned of the "Seven Sheep Organs" rumor, and now he'd accidentally stumbled upon one of their locations; he'd casually lied to extract information, only to walk in on the hydro company's board meeting;

He was just pondering how to slip inside and identify the faces, when something immediately went wrong in the meeting room—a woman's voice, faintly familiar, screamed for someone to come quickly…

Is my luck too good today?

…

"Coming!"

For now, he pushed thoughts of luck aside, heaved open the heavy oak door with effort, and rushed into the meeting room, while the black goat's ecstatic shriek blared urgently in his mind.

'Right side! That golden-haired kid! He's the one who touched my heart!'

Golden hair… the Lyon family has had golden hair for generations; right now, only one man in the room has golden hair—so the sheep organ is in the Lyon family?

He cast a casual glance at the middle-aged golden-haired man, memorizing his build and features, then lowered his head slightly, letting his hat brim shadow most of his face, before striding quickly toward the woman collapsed on the left.

"Hurry!"

Not recognizing the guard as an acquaintance, the young girl with a baby face, seeing her mother begin to convulse, grabbed Leon's arm and cried out frantically:

"Go get a doctor! Call someone! Lift her up and take her to—"

"Don't move her!"

After a quick glance at the middle-aged woman's condition, Leon recognized it as likely epilepsy; he'd hesitated whether to help, fearing intervention might expose his identity.

But remembering what he'd overheard outside—that the Charle Department Store's lady might be held responsible for compensating the public water pipe incident—he stopped the baby-faced girl, hoping to avoid further complications.

After directing her to lay the woman flat, tilt her head to one side to prevent choking on saliva, Leon stood and scanned the room, then tore a cloth from a nearby sofa pillow, rolled it into a tube, and shoved it between the woman's teeth.

"That's enough… hold her chin up slightly, loosen any tight clothing—keep her airway open!"

"Yes! I'll hold it!"

In emergencies, people fear most not clear danger, but total uncertainty.

Following Leon's instructions instinctively, she completed the steps; faced with the only person who'd given a clear answer, the baby-faced girl instinctively turned her tear-filled eyes to him and asked:

"Then what? What else?"

"Wait a few minutes, see if she recovers on her own."

After giving a few instructions to the other "temporary guard" to fetch a cart just in case, Leon crouched low and whispered reassurance:

"I've seen this before—if she doesn't choke on saliva or bite her tongue, she'll usually recover in minutes. If she doesn't improve, keep this position and push her to a doctor—no life-threatening risk."

"Okay! Thank you… thank you!"

Hearing there was no life-threatening danger, the baby-faced girl finally relaxed.

Her legs went weak; she collapsed backward with a thud, plopping onto the carpet like a duck, still holding her mother's chin, tears streaming as she kept thanking Leon.

All this seemed complex, but took less than a minute; when the middle-aged woman's condition appeared stabilized, the others in the room, stunned by the sudden event, all exhaled in relief.

Colluding to seize Charle Department Store's assets was purely a business move—though riddled with violations, their three-party alliance was fully confident it could crush any retaliation. But if Madame Charle suffered a heart attack and died right here, the nature of the matter would change.

Times are no longer what they used to be—a noble title can no longer silence a merchant. If this explodes and provokes the united fury of the Shangye Force, their three-party alliance might face a merchant boycott.

The Shangye Force holds many parliamentary seats—it's a political force not to be underestimated. If these people feel threatened and unite, combined with old Charle's maneuvering as vice-chair, their three-party alliance might be in deep trouble!

"Well done!" Seeing a major upheaval averted, several directors beamed with delight; the hydro company's meeting chairperson sighed in relief and smiled at Leon:

"Your salary's doubled this month! Go find your department's… uh…"

Looking at this strange employee—wearing a guard uniform but carrying a large broom—the chairperson frowned in confusion.

"Which department? Security or cleaning?"

"Security! I'm from Security."

Again putting on the simple, earnest smile he'd learned from the coffee cart old man, Leon lowered his head modestly, looking utterly innocent:

"Lately there've been troublemakers outside. Our manager feared unsavory types might sneak in and disturb the guests, so he assigned us to guard the door—and if any emergency came up, we could step in. Didn't expect it to actually be useful."

"Hmm, good!"

Satisfied, the chairperson waved him off:

"If you're from Security, go find your manager, Andrew. Tell him your salary's doubled this month—and from now on, raise your base pay by 30%! That's all, you're dismissed."

"Got it!"

Though he despised the lot in the room, this trip had yielded information, confirmed one sheep organ's location, and would soon give him evidence of the hydro company's violations—Leon knew when to quit. He pressed his hat down, grabbed the broom, and turned to leave.

But something strange happened.

As Leon turned to go, the goat's head in his shopping bag swayed with the motion, its sharp horns slicing the bag again, tumbling out with a thud, landing squarely on the carpet, staring directly at the directors.

(⊙⊙)?

(⊙⊙)?

(⊙⊙)?

Wait… this scene feels familiar?

"This… sorry, my wife loves goat head soup. I bought it at the morning market—I'm taking it home after work."

With a face as calm as ever, Leon told the same pathetic lie as before, swiftly bent down, snatched up the goat's head, and prepared to flee while they were stunned.

But unluckily, his guard uniform jacket was too short, the pockets too high; as he bent over, the ID card in his front chest pocket slid out in a most peculiar way.

It bounced cheerfully twice on the carpet, tracing a playful arc, then landed right before the directors' eyes—the distinctive emblem of the Police Department glinting brightly under the lights.

(｀Д)!!

(｀Д)!!

(｀Д)!!

And it wasn't over yet. At this most critical moment, a heavy thud echoed from outside the meeting room door.

Seeing the open door, the guest foaming at the mouth on the floor, and Leon bending to pick up the Police Department ID, the security manager returning from the archives instantly broke down. He hurled his files aside and pointed at Leon, pale as death, screaming:

"It's not me! He forced me! I knew nothing!!!"

(End of Chapter)