The auditorium at the Backlund Police Station headquarters had been transformed into a dazzling banquet hall.
An enormous crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, illuminating the entire hall as brightly as daylight. Exquisite oil paintings and gilded reliefs adorned the walls, while a complex blend of perfume, cigar smoke, and fine food filled the air.
"Hello, Mr. Roll."
"Hello, Ms. Shirley."
Dressed in a sumptuous evening gown, Hazel smiled as she greeted people she knew and people she did not. Her manners and conversation were poised and gracious, without the slightest hint of provincial awkwardness.
In her eyes, these distinguished nobles were fundamentally no different from the commoners on the street. Thus, she did not feel particularly constrained around them.
It was an arrogance born of power, peculiar to immature Beyonders, but she herself had yet to fully recognize it.
So far, the only people she had found truly different were her teacher and that bastard named James Scott.
At present, however, her relationship with both of them was rather delicate.
Her teacher had disappeared. She had tried to track down her teacher's whereabouts, but found no clues whatsoever, leaving her without her greatest source of support.
As for James Scott-he was certainly a Beyonder too, and undoubtedly far stronger than she was. He had kept threatening her with her secret, but-though she called them threats, he had never actually done anything. This time, he had even offered to let her manage the newly established foundation-
Her father's failed investments had left their family in a difficult position. This "gift" from Scott would greatly improve their circumstances-her father had provided him with some weapons sales channels, but that contribution was far less substantial than this gift.
Besides, for some reason, she seemed to-no longer dislike that fellow with his perpetually