The Upper-Class Ball

The buzz around Kraft gradually faded over time, but its impact didn't disappear completely.

For instance...

"The All-New York Middle School Joint Exchange Ball?"

Kraft frowned and asked, "What kind of crap is that?"

The Black kid who brought the news, Michael, who had previously discussed aesthetics with Fatty Liao on the school bus, shook his dreadlocks and explained at lightning speed to the classmates surrounding him.

It turned out that the so-called "All-New York Middle School Joint Exchange Ball" had been held for many years. However, although it was nominally "All-New York," with dozens of middle schools in the city, only a few prestigious schools could truly participate. The rest were all private institutions. Schools like Vantas Public Middle School, which were obscure and had a student body composed mostly of other ethnicities, simply didn't qualify. If Kraft hadn't become so popular recently, bringing his school some fame, they wouldn't have had a spot at this year's ball.

Even so, Vantas Public Middle School's participation quota was extremely limited. The school's higher-ups were currently scrambling to gather details about previous balls to decide who would attend this time.

Regardless, as the primary reason for receiving an invitation, Kraft was definitely a must-attend.

"Can I not go?"

Kraft pouted. He wasn't the typical party animal common in America and had zero interest in balls.

Wasn't his Tiger Pliers more appealing? Why waste time on something as boring as dancing?

"That's impossible, Kraft. Others can make excuses to decline, but you absolutely cannot. You're the main reason our school received an invitation, and the school won't let you miss it for anything."

Michael replied, shaking his head. Kraft understood this, of course; he was just complaining casually.

Although Kraft was extremely reluctant, when the principal of Vantas Middle School came to him and earnestly lectured him, he had no choice but to accept the task with a grimace—to lead two other students to the so-called "All-New York Middle School Joint Exchange Ball" as the school's representative.

That's right, even though Vantas Middle School received an invitation, the quota was a mere three spots, and one was locked for Kraft, non-negotiable.

Time quickly flew by, and it was the day of the ball. Kraft put on a suit that made him feel extremely uncomfortable, using hair gel to style his perpetually messy hair into a more mature look.

Martin Lee stood in front of Kraft, straightening his collar, then placed his hands on his shoulders, admiring Kraft's appearance with satisfaction. "Not bad, you look like a handsome young man."

Then he saw Kraft out the door and handed him over to the two other students waiting outside.

"I'll leave Kraft in your care. He's younger, so please look after him."

"Don't worry, Mr. Lee."

Francisco was the oldest of the three, a twelfth-grader of Latino descent and the student council president of Vantas Middle School. He was quite adept at social interactions. Kraft was only the nominal leader; in reality, the school had entrusted the main communication tasks to Francisco. The principal had briefed Kraft on this, so he essentially just needed to show up and enjoy the food and drinks.

The remaining spot went to an Asian senior from the tenth grade. She wasn't a prominent figure at the school and was quite ordinary in every aspect. The only reason she was chosen was that her father was a school board member, and a rather influential one at that.

"Hello, I'm Amy. Please take care of me."

The senior bowed ninety degrees and introduced herself.

"Senior, are you Japanese?"

Seeing Amy's gesture, Kraft instinctively switched to Japanese.

"Hai! My mother is Japanese. Lee-kun speaks Japanese so well!"

Amy covered her mouth and replied in Japanese with a peculiar accent, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Uh... maybe we should stick to English..."

Kraft broke out in a sweat. This girl's broken Japanese was worse than his own pronunciation, making it sound incredibly awkward.

"Kraft is truly amazing! Not only has he invented so many interesting things, but his Japanese is also excellent!"

Francisco, skilled in social graces, seized the opportunity to praise him.

"Heh, it's alright."

Having mastered multiple languages through his dreams without any effort, Kraft felt a pang of shame. He raised his hand habitually, intending to scratch his head, but upon touching his stiff hair, he remembered his hairstyle for the day and sheepishly lowered his arm.

The three of them got into the car specially arranged by the school and headed to the venue of the ball, a dedicated event campus of a private middle school with exorbitant tuition fees... The prefix of the campus name alone explained why the tuition was so high.

A rather pleasant conversation helped the three of them pass the time during the drive.

"This is... excessive..."

Upon arriving at their destination, Kraft gawked at the so-called event campus, murmuring to himself, filled with envy and jealousy.

Since it was a ball, there was naturally a ballroom. Not the kind for clubbing, but the kind of grand ballroom Kraft had only seen in movies, used by high society. Beyond that, the vast green spaces outside the ballroom featured diving platforms and a swimming pool with lanes, and even a horse-riding arena in the back...

Kraft glanced at the student responsible for welcoming them and showing them around. The arrogance and disdain in his eyes were completely undisguised. He spoke with an air of "you've never seen the world before," which greatly displeased the three of them. Even the usually smiling Francisco's face fell.

Actually, previous exchange balls didn't use such extravagant venues. This ball, to put it bluntly, was an event for the descendants of the so-called elite to expand their networks. But whenever "commoners" like Kraft tried to join as new members, they would use such tactics to put the newcomers in their place. If they could be amused, adding an interesting follower was fine. If they found it boring, they wouldn't send invitations next time.

Regarding this, Vantas's principal had vaguely mentioned it to Kraft and the others. At the time, Kraft hadn't paid much attention because the principal had said, "This is your first time attending, so you might feel a bit unaccustomed, and some people might even ostracize you."

Kraft had assumed that "ostracism" would merely mean being ignored or not spoken to. After all, it was "high society"; they should have some decorum.

He never expected these people to be no different from street thugs.

Kraft silently lowered his gaze. He hadn't wanted to come here in the first place. Since they weren't welcome here, he had no interest in maintaining any superficial peace. The principal hadn't insisted on them joining, only that they come and see the world.

It was indeed an eye-opener.

The student giving the introduction intended to lead them further inside to "see more of the world," but Kraft had no interest in listening to his passive-aggressive remarks any longer. He turned directly and broke away from the group, heading towards the ballroom.

Even if he was leaving, he had to fill his stomach before he went... Kraft was a thrifty and diligent young man.

Long before Kraft and his companions arrived, people from other schools had already mostly gathered. After all, bullying newcomers was a rare opportunity for this group, so they had rushed over early to watch the show. Seeing Kraft break away from the group and head towards the ballroom caused a stir.

They were happy to see the "resistance" of the newcomers. Echoes were too common in their daily lives; only by bullying stubborn individuals like Kraft could they feel a greater sense of accomplishment.

In the banquet hall, the leaders of several small groups exchanged glances. After a silent communication, one of the leaders, along with his followers, stepped out from the crowd and walked towards Kraft.

"You're Kraft, right?"

The leader tilted his head, mimicking his father's mannerisms when talking to people at banquets, and introduced himself to Kraft with feigned composure.

"My name is Slade, Slade Hammer. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Kraft took a sip of juice, helping to swallow the snack stuck in his throat, and curled his lips. "You're happy too soon!"

Then, before the stunned Slade could react, Kraft continued sarcastically, "Your performance isn't even as good as a third-rate actor in the trash time slot on TV. No matter how much you pretend to be elegant, you can't hide your low-class nouveau riche demeanor."

Kraft obviously couldn't see the "nouveau riche demeanor," but in his opinion, all these people were rich snobs anyway, so calling them nouveau riche was bound to be right. He didn't expect to hit the nail on the head.

Slade Hammer's father was the CEO of Hammer Industries. As a newly risen conglomerate in recent years, Hammer Industries was indeed considered nouveau riche by the old established financial groups. Otherwise, Slade wouldn't have stepped up to cause trouble for Kraft. The descendants of those old financial magnates were all sitting pretty, watching the show from a distance.

Slade's face twitched. He forced himself to maintain a smile, gritting his teeth as he said, "Jealousy is a sin, classmate Kraft. I understand the unease ordinary people like you feel when seeing the refined life of high society. But there's no need, really no need to resist so much. I just want to be friends with you, it has nothing to do with whether your family is rich or not."

As he spoke, Slade gradually regained his initial sense of superiority, gesturing at Kraft from a condescending posture.

However, upon hearing Slade's words, Kraft burst out laughing. "As expected of a nouveau riche... Even though the news reports were suppressed, the name Martin Lee shouldn't be unknown in your circles, right?"

After Martin Lee helped him sort out the procedures for the lock mechanism, Kraft had specifically looked into his adoptive father's financial strength. He then discovered that nearly 80% of the businesses in New York's Chinatown were related to Martin, and Martin made the decisions for more than half of them. Therefore, Martin Lee held a significant position even in New York's financial circles, which were full of wealthy individuals. The fact that this Slade didn't know about his family's situation clearly indicated that his earlier guess about him being nouveau riche was spot on.

Slade's expression changed drastically at this. Although Hammer Industries and Martin Lee's businesses didn't have much overlap, he had heard of that name.

He'd been tricked!

Slade, who was already accustomed to scheming, quickly realized what had happened. He turned to look at the guys who had egged him on earlier. They were now huddled together, talking in low voices. Sensing Slade's gaze, they all gave him a mocking smile. The others were also whispering and laughing at his earlier actions.

Having lost face, Slade couldn't stay any longer. With a dark expression, he apologized to Kraft in a low voice and then left in disgrace with his followers.

"Looks like someone used him as a pawn... What an idiot."

Kraft pursed his lips and continued to enjoy the food on the table. Setting aside the attitude of those scoundrels, the prepared food was quite delicious and shouldn't be wasted.