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CHAPTER 87 Drunk

  Ruslan couldn't remember the last time he felt so gloomy while smoking. The cigarette butt flickered, surrounded by smoke, just like his mood.

  He sat alone in the living room quietly until evening.

  The ashtray was filled with cigarette butts, giving off a sense of indescribable decadence and disorder.

  The night enveloped everything, and he didn't even have the mood to get up and turn on the lights.

  Suddenly, his phone screen lit up.

  It was a call from Jorah.

  "Ruslan, I've taken care of things on my end. The dinner tonight will proceed as planned. How are you guys doing?" he asked with concern.

  Ruslan remained silent.

  A deathly silence.

  Just as Jorah thought he was going to hang up the call, Ruslan uttered four hoarse words, "Come out for a drink."

  Jorah hesitated for a moment, then quickly replied, "Okay."

  Before he could say anything else, he heard the busy tone indicating that the call had ended.