Meanwhile, deeply hidden within the most exclusive sector of Earth, the Rothschild Family's Grand Mansion basked in the warm glow of artificial sunlight.
The vast estate was a flawless paradise, completely isolated from the pollution and overcrowding of the lower cities. It was a monument to the absolute wealth and untouchable power of the Federation's ruling elite.
Patriarch Olegen Rothschild was an old man with neatly slicked-back grey hair and piercing, and calculating eyes.
He sat at the pristine crystal table on the grand terrace. He took a slow, deliberate sip of incredibly rare star-leaf tea. His gaze was fixed on the massive, perfectly trimmer yard stretching out before him, quietly watching his teenage grandson play golf.
"Dang! Too far to the left again!" the young boy complained loudly, throwing his expensive gravity-calibrated golf club onto the bright green grass.
