A Major Blackout in Cape Town

The sky slowly dimmed.

Time passed by like sand flowing through one's fingers. The day was entering dusk.

In Dlamini's private estate in Cape Town, at a luxurious dining table made of pink ivory, Dlamini was holding a bowl of hot soup and sipping it carefully.

Currently, his face was pale, and there was a frail light in his expression. Even his hands, holding the bowl, were trembling slightly.

Although Dlamini was fifty-eight years old, his body had always been strong and sturdy like a puma at its peak. There was no sign that he was someone about to enter his later years.

However, since yesterday, after he left the manor with a group of men and vanished for a day and night, he had acted this way when he returned.

Everyone knew that he had been conspired against, but no one knew what he had seen or what had happened to him…