The atmosphere in the dining room was exceptionally heavy.
A Gothic long table stretched across the entire dining room. Its heavy metal surface gave off a dull sheen. The runner atop it was such a deep blue that it was nearly impossible to discern its color, and above it sat vases of the same shade filled with pure white flowers.
The napkins and cutlery before everyone were pure white. Apart from the flames on the candelabra placed between the two vases, there was not a single warm color anywhere on the table.
Nearly everyone seated at the table wore dark suits and equally colorless ties. Their collars were impeccably arranged, and even their tie knots were tied in exactly the same fashion. Their attire and demeanor made them look less like wedding guests and more like mourners at a funeral.
It was not difficult to see that some of them were utterly unused to wearing suits, yet they had still done everything they could to squeeze themselves into those black shells and adapt to that gloomy, heavy exterior.
Precisely because most of them were like this, the few exceptions stood out all the more. The moment Mrs. Nihrelet entered the dining room, she almost immediately noticed those out-of-place figures.
Schiller was refolding his napkin. His movements were restrained, but he was remarkably serious about it. Bale-Batman was smiling as he exchanged pleasantries with another businessman. Natasha merely sat quietly, yet she was extraordinarily eye-catching. Batman was examining the silverware in his hand.
What made them stand out most was that they lacked the nervous air of people terrified of making a mistake. They were completely at ease and did not seem to consider themselves odd at all.
Mrs. Nihrelet tightened her grip on the handkerchief in her hand slightly, but