High Society Ball

The buzz around Kraft gradually faded with time, but its impact had not completely disappeared.

For example…

"An all-New York joint middle school social ball?"

Kraft frowned and asked in confusion, "What kind of bullshit is that?"

The Black kid who had brought the news—Michael, the one who had discussed beauty standards with Fatty Liao on the school bus—shook his dreadlocks and rapidly explained it to the classmates gathered around him.

It turned out that the so-called "All-New York Joint Middle School Social Ball" had been held for many years. Though it was nominally open to "all of New York," there were dozens of middle schools in the city. Aside from a few prestigious schools, the ones that could truly participate were all private schools. Schools like Vantas Public Middle School, obscure and mostly made up of other ethnic groups, had never been qualified to take part. If Kraft had not recently become so popular and brought some fame to his school, they would not have received an invitation this year either.

Even so, Vantas Public Middle School had an extremely limited number of slots. The school administration was currently gathering information about previous balls in order to decide who would attend this time.

But no matter what, as the main reason they had received an invitation, Kraft was definitely indispensable.

"Can I not go?"

Kraft curled his lip. He was not one of those party animals so common in America and had absolutely no interest in balls.

Wasn’t Tiger Head Pliers more fun? Why waste time on something as boring as dancing?

"Impossible, Kraft. Everyone else can find an excuse to decline, but you absolutely can’t be absent. You’re the main reason our school received an invitation. There’s no way the school will let you skip it."

Michael shook his head as he answered. Kraft understood that logic too; he had only been complaining casually.

Although Kraft was extremely unwilling, when the principal of Vantas Middle School came to him and earnestly lectured him, he had no choice but to accept the assignment through gritted teeth—to lead two other students to that damned "All-New York Joint Middle School Social Ball."

That was right. Though Vantas Middle School had received an invitation, it only had three slots, one of which was locked in for Kraft and could not be replaced.

The day of the ball arrived quickly. Kraft changed into a little suit that made him feel terribly uncomfortable and used hair wax to comb his perpetually messy hair into a grown-up style.

Martin Lee stood before Kraft, adjusted his collar, then placed both hands on his shoulders and examined his appearance with satisfaction. "Not bad. You’re a handsome young man."

Then he sent Kraft out the door and entrusted him to the other two students waiting outside.

"Kraft will be in your care. He’s younger, so please look after him."

"Don’t worry, Mr. Li."

Francisco was the oldest of the three, a twelfth-grade Latino student and the president of Vantas Middle School’s student council. He was skilled at socializing. Kraft was only the nominal leader; in reality, the school had entrusted Francisco with the main task of networking. The principal had already explained this to Kraft, so all he really had to do was show his face, eat, and drink.

The remaining slot went to an Asian senior in tenth grade. She was not any sort of notable figure at school and was entirely ordinary in every respect. The only reason she had been selected was that her father was a school board member—and an influential one at that.

"Hello, I’m Amy. Please take care of me."

The senior bowed ninety degrees as she introduced herself.

"Are you Japanese?"

Seeing Amy’s gesture, Kraft instinctively began speaking to her in Japanese.

"Yes! My mother is Japanese. Li-kun, your Japanese is very good!"

Amy covered her mouth and replied in oddly accented Japanese, visibly surprised.

"Uh… let’s just speak English…"

Kraft broke out in a cold sweat. Her clumsy Japanese pronunciation was even less standard than his own, and it sounded incredibly awkward.

"Kraft really is amazing. Not only did he invent so many interesting things, but his Japanese is excellent too!"

The socially adept Francisco seized the opportunity to praise him.

"Hehe, it’s alright."

Having learned several languages through his dreams without putting in any effort, Kraft raised a hand somewhat sheepishly and habitually tried to scratch his head. Only when he touched his stiff hair did he remember that he had styled it today, so he awkwardly lowered his arm.

The three of them got into the sedan specially prepared by the school and headed for the venue: the event-only campus of a private middle school with absurdly expensive tuition… Just hearing the prefix of that campus was enough to understand why the school’s tuition was so high.

A fairly pleasant conversation helped Kraft and the others pass the boring journey.

"This is… ridiculous…"

After arriving, Kraft smacked his lips as he looked at the so-called event-only campus before him, filled with envy, jealousy, and resentment.

Since it was a ball, there was naturally a ballroom. Not the kind for clubbing, but the sort of banquet hall used by high society that Kraft had only ever seen in television dramas. Beyond that, there was a vast lawn outside the ballroom, a swimming pool equipped with diving platforms and lane markers, and even a horse track in the back…

Kraft glanced at the student assigned to show them around. The arrogance and contempt in his eyes were completely undisguised, and he spoke in a tone that plainly said, "You country bumpkins have never seen anything like this." It irritated all three of them, and even Francisco, who usually wore a welcoming smile, had pulled a long face.

In truth, previous social balls had not used such an extravagant venue. At its core, this ball was simply an event for the descendants of so-called upper-class families to expand their networks. But whenever "commoners" like Kraft’s group wanted to become new members, they would use methods like this to put the newcomers in their place. If the newcomers amused them, then adding an interesting lackey was no big deal. If they found them uninteresting, they simply would not send another invitation next time.

The principal of Vantas had actually hinted at this to Kraft and the others before. At the time, Kraft had not paid much attention, because the principal had only said, "It may take some getting used to for your first time attending. Some people might reject you."

Kraft had assumed rejection meant nothing more than being ignored or not spoken to. After all, this was "high society." They should have had some manners.

Yet these people turned out to be no different from street punks.

Kraft silently lowered his gaze. He had never wanted to come in the first place. Since they were unwelcome here anyway, he had no interest in maintaining some superficial peace. The principal had never said they absolutely had to join these people; he had only said they should come broaden their horizons.

His horizons had certainly been broadened.

The student in charge of the tour wanted to lead them farther inside so they could continue "broadening their horizons," but Kraft had no interest in listening to his veiled mockery any longer. He directly turned away from the group and headed toward the banquet hall.

Even if he was leaving, he needed to fill his stomach first… Kraft was a diligent, thrifty young man.

Before Kraft’s group had arrived, people from the other schools had already mostly gathered. Bullying newcomers was a rare form of entertainment for this crowd, so they had all come early to watch the show. The moment they saw Kraft leave the group and walk toward the banquet hall, a commotion broke out.

They were happy to see newcomers "resist." Yes-men were far too common in their daily lives; only bullying someone with pride and backbone like Kraft would give them a greater sense of accomplishment.

Inside the banquet hall, the leaders of several small groups exchanged glances. After a silent round of communication, one of them emerged from the crowd with several lackeys and walked toward Kraft.

"You’re Kraft, right?"

The leader raised his chin, imitating the way his father spoke to people at banquets, and introduced himself to Kraft with an apparently restrained manner.

"My name is Slade. Slade Hammer. It’s a pleasure to meet you."

Kraft took a sip of juice to wash down the pastries stuffed in his mouth, then curled his lip. "You’re pleased too soon!"

Before the stunned Slade could recover, Kraft continued sarcastically, "Your performance is worse than a third-rate actor on daytime trash TV. No matter how elegantly you pretend to act, you can’t hide that cheap nouveau riche air about you."

Of course, Kraft could not actually tell whether Slade had any nouveau riche air about him. But in his mind, these people were all filthy rich anyway, so calling them nouveau riche could not go wrong. Unexpectedly, he had hit the mark exactly.

Slade Hammer’s father was the president of Hammer Industries. As a conglomerate that had only risen in recent years, Hammer Industries was indeed considered nouveau riche by the old-established financial groups. Otherwise, Slade would not have been the one to step forward and provoke Kraft. The descendants of the old financial dynasties were all sitting calmly in the distance, watching the show.

Slade’s face twitched. He forced himself to maintain his smile and said through clenched teeth, "Jealousy is a cardinal sin, Kraft. I understand how ordinary people like you might feel uneasy when seeing the refined lifestyle of high society, but there’s no need—really, no need—to be so resistant. I simply came to make friends with you. It has nothing to do with whether your family is wealthy."

As he spoke, Slade gradually regained his initial sense of superiority and began gesturing at Kraft as though looking down on him.

Yet Kraft laughed when he heard that. "So you really are nouveau riche… Although the news reports were suppressed, the name Martin Lee shouldn’t be unknown in your circles, should it?"

After Martin Lee had helped him settle the paperwork related to the mechanical lock, Kraft had specifically looked into his adoptive father’s financial power. Only then did he discover that nearly eighty percent of Chinatown’s businesses were connected to Martin, and more than half of those businesses were directly controlled by him. Thus, Martin Lee held a place even in New York’s financial circles, where wealthy people were everywhere. The fact that Slade did not know Kraft’s family background meant that Kraft’s earlier insult had apparently landed by accident.

Slade’s expression changed drastically. Though Hammer Industries did not have much overlap with Martin Lee’s businesses, he had still heard that name before.

He had been set up!

Having long been accustomed to intrigue and scheming, Slade quickly realized what had happened. He turned to look at the people who had encouraged him to step forward earlier. They had gathered together and were whispering among themselves. When they noticed Slade’s gaze, they all gave him mocking smiles, while everyone else quietly laughed at what he had just done.

Having utterly embarrassed himself, Slade could not stay any longer. With a dark expression, he quietly apologized to Kraft, then led his lackeys away in disgrace.

"Looks like someone used him as a weapon… What an idiot."

Kraft curled his lip and continued sampling the food on the table. Setting aside those bastards’ attitudes, the food they had prepared was quite delicious. It would be a waste not to eat it.

Yesterday, Zhongyuan suddenly became interested in the zipper on my collar. I didn’t think much of it and let it lie against my chest and chew on it for fun. Then that damn cat chewed halfway through and suddenly jumped up and slapped me. I was watching a video at the time, and it scared the hell out of me.