The name of the conference room is "Prospect Hall", which sounds full of hope, but at this moment it is like a huge, slowly tightening coffin. The central air conditioner spits out cold, disinfectant-smelling air, which mixes with the dull, humid heat in the room that is almost stagnant, creating a suffocating sticky feeling. The long oval table was full of people, and the light filtered in from the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, but most of the brightness was filtered out by the thick blackout curtains, leaving only a depressing, gray tone, which was projected on everyone's face, which was either serious, scrutinizing, or careless.
