Isn't it normal for front-line soldiers to die?
Since ancient times, have there been wars where no one dies?
How can you prove it's the problem with my drug and not that he just couldn't hold on?
McCarthy didn't speak, but internally he was silently struggling.
"If you're worried, we can do it batch by batch, even a little at a time is fine."
Seeing this, West Fire Grass immediately intensified his action, grabbing the bottle and putting it back in the bag.
"If you're not willing, just pretend I didn't say anything today. I'll look for other ways to make money, though I'd probably have to beg people from other departments..."
"Wait!"
The agent who initially interrogated West Fire Grass pressed down on the drug on the table and looked at McCarthy.
"Boss, let's do it. I have a brother who practically saved my life, and he's in charge of importing raw materials in logistics. If we pull some strings, we could make a fortune!"
