Just as Mr. Abed finished speaking, the screech of brakes echoed from outside the airport.
A dozen black sedans halted abruptly, and a large group of bodyguards in black suits stormed in, armed to the teeth and bristling with hostility.
At the forefront, a man with dark skin scanned the hall. Suddenly, a familiar voice called out, "Amu!"
"Amu, I'm here!"
The man immediately turned toward the sound.
Behind the help desk, a cautious little head of golden hair peeked out, waving uncertainly at him.
The man's tightly furrowed brows relaxed slightly. He signaled to the group of bodyguards, then hurried over with seven or eight others in tow.
Mr. Abed spotted the bodyguard who had been with him since childhood and finally felt his tense nerves unwind.
Unable to hold back, he complained, "Damn it, Amu! What took you so long? I almost got killed by traitors!"
