Amid a lavish upper-class party overflowing with nightlife and money, the atmosphere froze for an instant.
They listened as the black-haired young man stepped forward under everyone's gaze and calmly, confidently named one material after another.
The tall, dark figure casually stroked the falcon on his arm, then looked at Ernst and flashed a lightly mocking, spirited smile before everyone.
"Twenty-three materials in total. Am I right?"
Ostentatious, confident, razor-sharp—his dazzling presence seized everyone's attention. At that moment, an indescribable aura rose from the excessively young figure they had all overlooked.
This development was completely different from what they had expected, leaving everyone present staring blankly.
How had he done it!?
They all looked at the million-dollar falcon in disbelief. The dangerous bird of prey that had nearly caused a commotion earlier was now resting obediently on the black-haired young man's arm like a cat.
It even controlled the force of its talons so it would not scratch him.
Remembering how he had raised his hand without the slightest panic and caught it, everyone finally realized that the falcon had clearly flown toward him!
The surprise on nearly everyone's face matched Gawell's as he hurried over.
And that was not the only surprising thing.
They watched him face Ernst—the man who had just tried to leave him hanging while striking up a conversation with his female companion—and unceremoniously "counterattack" in the most direct way possible by giving the answer.
Every man and woman watching could not help growing curious.
Could what he had said really be correct?
Feeling everyone's eyes gather on him, Ernst froze. He had considered being rejected or ignored, but he had never imagined this scene. And the reason was not only the falcon, but also because—
The answer really was twenty-three kinds.
But how was that