The Mysterious Banquet

Henry answered Tony Stark's final question, but there was no follow-up.

Perhaps that young master has logged off.

After finishing writing the prompt program for that young master, Henry went home. Tony Stark's Artificial Intelligence program did indeed have many impressive features, which could be used to improve the action logic of his own core robot, BB.

For Henry, who was rebuilding B System, he had to admit that Tony Stark's ideas were indeed very valuable.

Henry certainly didn't intend to directly copy the young master's Artificial Intelligence program and send it home or to his own server. It wasn't that he disliked JARVIS because it wasn't finished yet.

With their abilities, tracing the transmission route of the files would be a simple matter. Henry simply didn't want to reveal the location of his private server.

The saying "Everything that goes by leaves a trace" applies not only in reality but even more so on the internet, and we must be careful about it.

Taking some things and leaving some things behind has become a habit for both of them.

They both tacitly refrained from investigating what other valuable things the other possessed outside of the "Hollywood Kid" supercomputer.

Otherwise, how could Stark Industries ' servers have stopped Henry, the traitor? Tony Stark knew this very well. But by the time he realized it, it was too late to kick him out.

Returning to the reality of the arrangements, Easter in the Western world is not on a fixed date like Christmas, but rather on the first Sunday after the full moon following the spring equinox.

The invitation from the Vampires was scheduled for Easter Eve, specifically April 6th, 1996, a weekend.

After much deliberation, I realized I couldn't rest easy without checking what these Vampires were up to.

What If...? these Monster are behaving as Old Charlie of the Continental Hotel described—they like to pester and harass—then simply running away won't stop their ambitions.

So Henry drove alone to the agreed location at the appointed time, which was, of course, in the evening. His attire was still the only decent thing he wore: a navy blue Armani suit, paired with a pair of newly bought brown calfskin shoes.

The manor where the banquet was held looked perfectly normal, without any cult-like madness or horrifying bloodshed. In every respect, it was just a perfectly normal high-society banquet.

Many of the attendees were elderly men and women who needed assistance.

These people were quite distinguished in terms of clothing and jewelry, and their hair and beards were meticulously groomed, but they still couldn't hide the decay on their skin, giving the impression of an old man on his deathbed.

Henry, who had just arrived, was stopped by this old man.

The old man, who seemed to be standing alone and about to collapse at any moment, approached Henry mysteriously and asked in a low voice, "Sir,"

Are you one of them?

"No, Mr. Bernard. I am also an invited guest."

"Oh, I see." The old man took a step back and looked Henry up and down.

That glance was full of meaning. Henry's Armani attire was indeed high-end for blue-collar and white-collar workers.

But for the elderly man in front of us, who is truly from the upper class, bespoke suits are what they would wear, and they can't be made of cheap wool.

Celebrities wear Armani for sponsorships and endorsements. That's part of their work, and it doesn't mean the products are actually high-quality.

However, compared to cheap ready-made suits costing two hundred yuan a set, Armani is indeed clothing that is out of reach for ordinary people.

However, the old man didn't jump to conclusions. He asked again, "Where have we met before?"

"Four years ago in New York, sir. That was a fundraising dinner hosted by Ms. Audrey Hepburn for United Nations Children's Fund, and I was Ms. Hepburn's assistant."

"Oh, I remember now." The old man patted Henry's arm thoughtfully and said, "Good luck, lad." Then he walked away.

Although he tried his best to be polite, Henry could still tell that the old man thought he was some kind of blood bag that had been tricked into coming to the Vampires banquet, which was why he ran away as fast as he could.

Well, Henry already regrets coming here.

Seeing those young people around his age, each one acting as if they had arrived at some extraordinary place, constantly trying to strike up conversations and build connections, only to run into walls everywhere they went.

In this place filled with delicious food, expensive drinks, and an air of luxury, people are divided into two distinct groups, even when they stand together.

On one side are old men, on the other are young people. On one side are unattainable rich people, on the other are young men seeking opportunities and yearning for recognition.

Henry's appearance and age, based on the on-site classification, would undoubtedly place him among the group of young people. He was ignorant, full of unnecessary ambition, too much so that he couldn't recognize that he was merely someone else's prey.

In this banquet, which should have been elegant but was actually indescribably bizarre, a third type of person suddenly barged in.

She was young, but possessed striking beauty and an arrogant demeanor. Even when facing Old Money, she maintained a haughty and superior attitude.

Wearing a bright red, form-fitting pencil skirt and heels that were almost a hand's width high, the blonde beauty bypassed the others who hoped to talk to her or even reach out to her, and came to Henry.

Chanel's Coco 920 Apple lipstick adds a touch of warm sweetness to those already vibrant red lips, making one want to kiss them.

"Henry Brown?" the beautiful woman asked.

"Yes, that's me."

The beautiful woman suddenly moved closer with an eerie motion, quickly sniffing from her ear to the side of her neck. If someone were easily frightened, they would probably have taken three or five steps back in fright.

Henry also backed away, not out of fear, but simply because he didn't want to get too close to a beautiful woman, regardless of whether she was Vampires or not.

The banquet was the same as always; although the surveillance and listening devices were well-hidden, the monitoring was still quite comprehensive. It was difficult to find a place to catch your breath. Henry didn't want to give reporters a chance to make up stories based on pictures.

This action somehow amused the beauty before him. She chuckled a few times, sending a flirtatious glance through her eyes. "Come with me, Lord Dragonetti wishes to see you."

The beautiful woman's invitation was made without any attempt to hide it, so many people noticed Henry's direction. Some showed envy, others looked regretful, and of course, there were also those who secretly rejoiced.

Ignoring the opinions of the other spectators, Henry followed them into a doorway guarded by a group of burly men. The "no entry without permission" attitude was quite clear.

Beyond the other end of the porch lies another banquet venue. The setup is similar to the first one, but the people here are clearly a different group.

The people here dress much more casually. And some of their outfits are... well, let's just say they're indescribable. Imagine a guy with a punk hairstyle and a leather vest walking into the front hall—he'd give a bunch of old folks a heart attack.

Aside from their unique appearances, the people here, like the beautiful woman leading the way, exude an air of arrogance and haughtiness. They look down on everyone, regardless of who they are.

There were two chairs in front of the fireplace, one of which was occupied by a middle-aged man. He was tall, with brown hair and blue eyes, and looked no different from an ordinary person.

A small table in the middle of the chairs held famous wines and glasses; the wine hadn't been poured yet.

Henry was led to another chair and sat down. The beautiful woman who had led the way then opened a bottle and poured a glass of brandy for both of them.