Sensing

After passing a fingerprint scan, a retinal scan (and, in fact, a magical authentication she had failed to notice), and entering a nine-digit password combining letters and numbers, Elizabeth Betty successfully completed the complicated identity verification procedures and entered Michael's private laboratory.

"Good evening, Elizabeth." Sherry greeted her in a sweet, friendly voice as she pulled open the glass door at the entrance.

"Hello." She nodded to the unseen AI, hurried through the foyer, and, unsurprisingly, found her Boss in the room beyond—Michael spent most of his non-working hours down here.

If anyone had been able to take a look inside the Passo Technology chairman's personal laboratory, they would probably have been stunned. This might have been the strangest research lab in the world, divided into two sections that seemed to have nothing whatsoever to do with each other.

One side of the laboratory was filled with advanced equipment beyond anything ordinary people could imagine. His desks and shelves held all kinds of instruments and devices involving cutting-edge technology. He had even managed to acquire equipment still in the conceptual stage and not yet officially released to the market. Beyond that, he collected rare materials and elements that money alone could not buy. This section was practically paradise for researchers.

The other section—seemingly the complete opposite of the laboratory's other half—appeared to belong to the realm of the occult. Plush blankets covered the tables on this side, which displayed ancient-looking artifacts that seemed as though they had been taken from the set of a medieval television drama. The bookshelves against the walls were crammed full of old tomes, while a long sheet of pure cotton canvas hung beside a cabinet, deeply painted with a complex Magic Circle.

Science and mysticism, two fields that seemed utterly opposed, shared the same room.

At the moment, Michael's right arm was covered in black-and-white armor, and he seemed to be calibrating the Gauntlet's output. Elizabeth carefully threaded her way past magical tomes and precision instruments before approaching her Boss.

"You haven't shown your face at the company for nine days," she reminded him.

"I've been busy lately." Michael clenched his fist and tested the stretch of his arm. A low hum from the power system came from the Gauntlet's joints. "But you can handle things, can't you?"

"Thank you for your trust. I'm doing my best, sir." Elizabeth spoke calmly as she drew out an exquisite red invitation and laid it flat on the table.

Michael glanced sideways at it. "I recall saying that any events I could decline should be declined?"

"Yes, I've already declined most events this month for you," she said. "But the Military Committee was very satisfied with our previous batch of orders. They would like to personally invite you to a ball tonight."

"A ball?"

Michael's eyelid twitched. He temporarily pulled his arm out of the black-and-white Gauntlet, opened the invitation, and examined it. After quickly reading its contents, he raised an eyebrow. "It says, 'Please bring your dance partner.' Interesting. Where do people usually find dance partners when attending a ball?"

Elizabeth smiled. "I would imagine that, normally, this would not be a problem for someone of your status."

That was indeed true. Especially for a playboy like Tony Stark, bringing along three or five dance partners at once was hardly unusual—although he himself might not have remembered all their names.

Yet Michael Passo was such a rare exception. He had built his entire life like an exquisitely precise machine, every component assembled only after the most exact calculations. He planned every day down to the second, every moment perfectly clear and accounted for.

Yet he had left no time whatsoever for a personal life. He could handle necessary engagements and social occasions exceptionally well, presenting the public with the image of a humble, amiable young genius with a gift for words. But beyond that, he spent most of his time dealing only with cold machines.

So one could say that Michael Passo was emotionally detached, or even that he was closer to a machine than a person. He possessed a meticulous and brilliant mind, as well as countless astonishing inventions, yet he could not even find a woman close enough to accompany him to a simple ball.

No, perhaps it should have been said that he could find almost no one.

After reading the invitation, Michael thought for a moment, then suddenly looked up. "Elizabeth, can you dance the tango?"

Elizabeth froze for a moment. "Yes, sir."

"What about the waltz?"

"I have some experience with that as well." She hesitated, then said, "I also studied ballet and won an award at an international competition in Moscow. But sir, you can't mean—"

"Excellent." Michael folded the invitation. "Prepare a dress. You're my friday dance partner."

A rare trace of panic appeared on Elizabeth's face. "But sir, I... I'm not sure I'm qualified—"

"I invited you, so of course you are." Michael paused, then shrugged. "But this isn't an order, just an invitation. Naturally, you have the right to refuse. Though if you do, I'll have no choice but to try my luck on my own."

Elizabeth drew in a deep breath and answered solemnly, "Then very well, sir. I will be there."

Dazzling golden light filled the hall, a faint perfume fragrance drifted through the air, and the guests danced to soft, melodious music.

Elizabeth truly seemed to be an excellent dancer. She wore a sky-blue gown today, her pale golden hair falling naturally down her back, her skin white and smooth as cream beneath the crystal chandeliers. She gently placed her hand in her Boss's, and as she spun, she resembled a graceful butterfly.

"That was unexpected." Ten minutes later, Michael returned to the bar with a dry martini and handed the glass to his dance partner for the evening. "You dance very well. You should put that on your résumé."

"Thank you." Elizabeth accepted the glass and took a small sip.

"But you're nervous." Michael sat down beside her. "In fact, I've noticed that you're rarely this nervous. I remember once asking you to handle a press conference for me, and a page somehow went missing from the speech in the middle? You just improvised and carried on naturally. Even I almost didn't notice anything was wrong."

Elizabeth smiled gracefully. "Thank you, sir. But that was work. In that situation, calmly handling unexpected circumstances was my responsibility."

"And now you're relaxing." Michael swirled his glass. "What is there to be nervous about? Today, I'm not your Boss. I'm only your dance partner."

Elizabeth could not help but smile bitterly inwardly.

But you... you're you.

She knew perfectly well what kind of person her Boss was. He was a once-in-a-generation genius with extraordinary intelligence and some mysterious power she could not understand. He was destined to accomplish earth-shaking things and change the world. And what was she? Just an ordinary person, able only to do her small part and manage the trivial matters not worth his time and energy.

Naturally, she could not say any of this aloud, but her Boss seemed able to see through her thoughts. Michael turned his head and said seriously, "I don't know how you see yourself, but I personally selected you from hundreds, even thousands, of candidates, like picking a one-of-a-kind pearl from a beach. In fact..." He paused. "You may be the only person I trust right now."

Elizabeth was stunned, wearing an expression that came close to not knowing what expression she should make.

"I'm deeply grateful, sir." She lowered her head slightly and said, "I will certainly do my best and will not disappoint your expectations."

Michael was about to say something else, but just as he opened his mouth, his expression abruptly changed slightly and he frowned.

Elizabeth noticed that something was wrong with her Boss. "What is it, sir?"

"Nothing serious, just a small unexpected problem." Michael rose to his feet. "Sorry, but something has come up. Would you mind going back by yourself later?"

"Not at all." Elizabeth seemed to understand something. "Then be careful, sir."

"I will."

(Thanks to reader Youyue Qifeng for the 1,000 Qidian Coins, reader alucious for the 200 Qidian Coins, and reader Wanshui Shuren for the 100 Qidian Coins!)