As night fell, the magnificent estate was ablaze with lights, and guests swarmed like clouds.
Crystal chandeliers cast a brilliant glow, illuminating the entire ballroom. Exquisite oil paintings adorned the walls, and various sculptures lined the corridors, making the Casino family appear more like an ancient noble lineage than a Mafia clan. Thick Persian carpets muffled almost every footstep on the floor.
In the center of the ballroom lay a massive dance floor, its smooth marble reflecting the lights with dazzling intensity. Musicians played classical pieces in a corner, their melodies elegant and moving. Scattered around were refined tables and chairs, each covered in snow-white linen and set with silver cutlery, crystal stemware, and fresh roses.
The air was thick with the intoxicating, sweet aroma of red wine. Waiters in tuxedos and maids in uniform were everywhere, prompting one to sigh...
Elegant. Truly elegant.
Satoru Gojo linked arms with Gin, appearing as a noble and cold lady on the outside, while his mind had already flown to the buffet area.
That area was brimming with delicacies, from seafood platters to Italian foie gras; every dish was meticulously prepared by top chefs, boasting perfect color, aroma, and taste. Of course, what Gojo cared about most were the desserts. Like the main courses, the sweets were diverse and looked incredibly appetizing.
He was never one to mistreat himself. Seeing Gin busy scanning the hall for Hermann's shadow, Gojo picked up a small plate of cake and began shoveling it into his mouth.
"Hayley..." Gin uttered the alias awkwardly. "Now is not the time for eating."
"This Young Lady is hungry~" Gojo replied innocently. His intentionally "cute" expression made some onlookers, who were secretly watching him, want to gift him a castle made of candy.
In reality, while Gojo had drawn many stares when he first appeared, the attention had waned once the banquet hit full swing. For one, he was currently seen as far too young for marriage or pursuit. Secondly, as Lady Grace's "adopted daughter," those seeking fortune knew it was better to flatter the mother directly.
More importantly, most guests weren't here for fun. They chatted, laughed, and toasted, engaging in subtle social games—discussing family business or seeking allies to recruit. Here, everyone wore an exquisite mask, and the Casino ballroom was merely the stage for this grand play.
The true actress, Vermouth, was professionally playing the wealthy widow Lady Grace, dealing with "young grass" who surrounded her to pay court, hoping to "work ten years less" by winning her favor. (Auntie, I don't want to try hard anymore.jpg)
Gojo was feasting happily when Gin tugged his arm. In a voice audible only to the two of them, Gin whispered, "Hermann is over there talking to the Casino people. Aren't you going to do something?"
Gin wanted nothing more than to execute the rat who leaked Organization secrets.
However, Gojo's Six Eyes had already pinpointed the target's location long ago—including that covetous look the man had sent his way at the entrance. Since he had already been targeted, there was no rush.
Ten minutes later, as the classical music flowed, many guests began to dance.
Seeing several boys his "age" turning red and pushing each other to come over and invite him, Gojo quickly finished his food and dragged Gin toward the dance floor.
"Do you remember the steps we learned?" Gin asked, sounding unsure.
"Relax. Just don't hold me back." Gojo was nonchalant. Sensing Hermann watching him from the shadows again, he drifted slightly closer to the target's direction.
Gin placed a hand on his waist. Because Gin was wearing height-increasing insoles, he appeared a bit taller than Gojo. The thought of Gin's "cheat boots" almost made Gojo break his ladylike composure.
Fortunately, the two were in perfect sync. The silver-haired girl's hair swayed like waves, and the royal blue hem of her gown flared out during her spins like a pure, noble lotus. When she landed, her steps were fluid and natural, as if gliding on water without a ripple.
Whether in posture or movement, one couldn't find a single flaw. Meanwhile, her partner was upright and graceful. The boy held the girl's hand lightly, and every movement blended perfectly with her steps. In terms of aesthetic quality, the two could have won a championship. Many guests even stepped back to give them space.
Only Gin's mouth twitched slightly. He should have known that this black-hearted Gojo had only "failed" so many times during practice just to have an excuse to step on Gin's feet.
When the song ended, amidst applause, "Miss Hayley Grace" gave an elegant curtsy of thanks. She then lifted her skirt and left the floor, exchanged a few words with her blonde partner, and questioned a nearby waiter before heading toward the restrooms.
I've performed high-profile for so long. The restless rat should be taking the bait now.
When Gojo reached the restrooms, he realized a problem. Should he go into the women's room or the men's room?
The answer was obvious. Even he, who had long discarded his integrity, had to do some mental preparation before walking into the women's room with eyes forward.
...Thankfully, it's empty.
Using his Six Eyes to monitor the target's movements, Gojo slowly washed his hands. He looked at the harmless, angelic face in the mirror and plotted—I hope I don't get too much blood on me later.
Estimating the timing was right, he stepped out of the restroom. At the corner, he "accidentally" bumped into a tall man.
"Miss Grace?" The man's tone sounded genuinely surprised, as if it were a chance encounter.
He wore a pair of exquisite gold-rimmed glasses. He had a high nose, thin lips, and well-maintained skin; his actual age was likely much older than he appeared. He looked at Gojo with a polite, socially appropriate smile. To any young girl, he would look like a kind, refined "uncle next door."
With neatly trimmed silver-gray hair and a traditional deep blue three-piece suit, he projected the image of a scholarly, decent middle-aged gentleman—lacking even a hint of the ferocity one would expect from a criminal.
But who would know that he was actually a piece of trash involved in a series of illegal Mafia activities, human trafficking, and the victimization of countless innocent girls?
So it's this guy... That lingering gaze felt like maggots on bone. Disgusting.
"Who are you?" Gojo stayed in character, lifting his chin arrogantly. His question carried the wariness of a high-class girl meeting a stranger.
When in Rome, do as the Romans do—he spoke in Italian. Although the original Satoru only knew Japanese and English (plus Jiang Wu's own Chinese), the System came with a built-in language translator. Thus, Italian was no problem for him.
"Wonderful, I was just looking for you." The man's tone was familiar and warm. "You might not know me yet, but your mother and I have been acquaintances for a long time. We have many business dealings. In fact, she has even been a guest at my estate."
"My name is Ben Hermann. It's a pleasure to meet you." The man bowed slightly and extended his hand to Gojo. "I often hear Lady Grace talk about you. Seeing you in person... you truly are a beautiful and brilliant child."
Gojo, hearing this, appropriately showed the expression of a youngster being praised. He maintained his "young lady" posture, but a small, uncontrollable pride flickered in his eyes. "You flatter me, Mr. Hermann."
"You are just like a daughter to me. May I call you Hayley?"
Gojo reached out and shook Hermann's hand, a silent consent. The man's hand did not linger excessively; everything was perfectly calculated.
"Mr. Hermann, why were you 'just looking' for me?"
The two walked side-by-side. The girl asked with curiosity. To any guests in the corridor, they looked like a father and daughter, drawing no special attention.
"That... requires a bit of an explanation." Hermann walked with his hands behind his back, chuckling kindly. "Would you like to hear it, Hayley?"
"I'm all ears."
After all, your death is coming soon anyway.