The buzz around Kraft gradually died down with time, but the impact it had brought about had not completely disappeared.
For example...
"All-New York Middle School Joint Exchange Ball?"
Kraft frowned and asked in confusion, "What kind of bullshit is that?"
The Black kid who had brought the news—Michael, the same one who had discussed beauty standards with Fatty Liao on the school bus—shook his dreadlocks and launched into a rapid explanation for the classmates gathered around him.
It turned out that the so-called "All-New York Middle School Joint Exchange Ball" had been held for many years. Although it was called "All-New York," there were dozens of middle schools in New York. Aside from a few prestigious schools, the only schools that could truly participate were private ones. Schools like Vantas Public Middle School, obscure and made up mostly of other ethnic groups, had never qualified to attend. If Kraft had not recently become so popular and brought some fame to his school, they would not have received an invitation this year either.
Even so, Vantas Public Middle School had been given extremely limited spots. The school administration was currently asking around for details about previous balls in order to decide who would attend this time.
But no matter what, Kraft, as the main reason they had received the invitation, was definitely indispensable.
"Can I not go?"
Kraft curled his lip. He was not the sort of party animal commonly found in America and had no interest whatsoever in balls.
Wasn't a pair of locking pliers more fun? Why waste time on something as boring as dancing?
"That's impossible, Kraft. Anyone else can find an excuse to turn it down, but you absolutely can't be absent. You're the main reason our school received an invitation. There's no way the school will let you skip it."
Michael answered while bobbing his head. Kraft understood that too; he had only been complaining casually.
Although Kraft was deeply unwilling, when the principal of Vantas Public Middle School came to speak to him earnestly and repeatedly impress upon him the importance of the matter, he had no choice but to accept the assignment reluctantly—to lead two other students to that bullshit "All-New York Middle School Joint Exchange Ball."
That was right. Although Vantas Public Middle School had received an invitation, it only had three spots, and one of them was reserved for Kraft and could not be replaced.
The day of the ball arrived quickly. Kraft changed into a small suit that made him feel incredibly awkward and used hair gel to slick his perpetually messy hair into an adult-looking style.
Martin Lee stood before Kraft, straightened his collar, then placed both hands on his shoulders and looked him over with satisfaction. "Not bad. You're a handsome young man."
Then he sent Kraft out the door and handed him over to the other two students waiting outside.
"Kraft is in your care. He's younger, so please look after him more."
"Don't worry, Mr. Lee."
Francisco was the oldest of the three, a twelfth-grade Latino student and also the president of Vantas Public Middle School's student council. He was more skilled at socializing and networking. Kraft was only the nominal leader; in reality, the school had entrusted the main task of mingling with the others to Francisco. The principal had explained this to Kraft as well, so all he really needed to do was show his face, eat, and drink.
The remaining spot went to an Asian senior in tenth grade. She was not some notable figure at school and was utterly ordinary in every regard. The only reason she had been chosen was that her father was a school board member—and quite an influential one at that.
"Hello, I'm Amy. Please take care of me."
The senior bowed at a ninety-degree angle and introduced herself.
"Are you japanese, Senior?"
Seeing Amy's gesture, Kraft instinctively began speaking to her in Japanese.
"Yes! My mother is Japanese. Lee-kun, your Japanese is so good!"
Amy covered her mouth in surprise as she replied in oddly accented Japanese.
"Uh... let's speak English instead..."
Kraft broke out in a sweat. Her awkward Japanese was even less standard than his own pronunciation, and it sounded painfully strange.
"Kraft really is amazing. Not only has he invented so many interesting things, but his Japanese is wonderful too!"
The socially adept Francisco seized the chance to praise him.
"Hehe, it's nothing."
Having learned multiple languages through his dreams without ever putting in effort, Kraft felt a little ashamed. He raised a hand out of habit, intending to scratch his head, but after touching his stiff hair, he remembered that he had styled it today and awkwardly lowered his arm.
The three of them got into the sedan the school had specially prepared for them and headed toward the venue—a dedicated event campus belonging to a private middle school with outrageously expensive tuition. Just hearing the prefix attached to that campus was enough to understand why the school's tuition was so high.
Their fairly pleasant conversation helped the three of them pass the dull time on the road.
"This is... ridiculous..."
After arriving, Kraft smacked his lips as he stared at the so-called dedicated event campus before him, filled with every kind of envy and jealousy.
Since it was a ball, there was naturally a ballroom—not the sort for clubbing, but the kind of banquet hall used by high society that Kraft had only seen in TV dramas and movies. Beyond that, there were vast lawns outside the ballroom, a swimming pool equipped with diving platforms and lane lines, and even a racetrack farther back...
Kraft glanced at the student responsible for showing them around. The arrogance and contempt in his eyes were completely undisguised, and his tone made it clear that he thought, You've never seen anything like this before. It irritated all three of them, and even Francisco, who usually greeted everyone with a smile, had gone stone-faced.
In truth, previous exchange balls had not used such exaggerated venues. Put bluntly, this ball was merely an event for the descendants of so-called upper-class families to expand their networks. But whenever "commoners" like Kraft and the others tried to become new members, they would use methods like this to put the newcomers in their place. If the newcomers amused them, they did not mind gaining an entertaining lackey. If not, they simply would not send another invitation next time.
The principal of Vantas had actually hinted at this matter to Kraft and the others before. At the time, Kraft had not paid much attention, because the principal had only said, "It's your first time attending. You may feel a little uncomfortable, and some people may even reject you."
Kraft had assumed that rejection meant no more than ignoring them or refusing to speak with them. After all, this was "high society." They ought to have had some manners.
He had not expected these people to be no different from street punks.
Kraft silently lowered his gaze. He had not wanted to come in the first place, and since they were not welcome here either, he had no interest in maintaining some superficial peace. The principal had not said they absolutely had to join this circle. He had only told them to come broaden their horizons.
His eyes had certainly been opened.
The student giving the tour wanted to lead them farther inside to continue "broadening their horizons," but Kraft had no interest in listening to his snide remarks any longer. He turned directly away from the group and headed toward the banquet hall.
Even if he was leaving, he had to fill his stomach first... Kraft was a thrifty and sensible young man.
Long before Kraft and the others arrived, people from the other schools had already mostly gathered. After all, bullying newcomers was a rare form of entertainment for them, so they had come early to watch the show. The moment they saw Kraft leave the group and head toward the banquet hall, a stir ran through the crowd.
They were happy to see newcomers "resist." Yes-men were far too common in their everyday lives. Only bullying someone proud and unyielding like Kraft gave them a greater sense of accomplishment.
Inside the banquet hall, the leaders of several small groups exchanged looks. After a silent conversation, one of them stepped out with several lackeys and walked toward Kraft.
"You're Kraft, right?"
The leader tilted his chin up, imitating the way his father spoke to others at banquets, and introduced himself to Kraft with a seemingly reserved manner.
"My name is Slade. Slade Hammer. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Kraft took a sip of juice to wash down the pastries stuffed in his throat, then curled his lip. "You're happy too soon!"
Before the stunned Slade could recover, Kraft continued sarcastically, "Your performance isn't even as good as a third-rate actor in some trash TV timeslot. No matter how hard you pretend to be elegant, you can't hide that cheap nouveau riche air."
Of course Kraft could not actually tell what a nouveau riche air looked like, but as far as he was concerned, these people were all filthy rich, so calling them nouveau riche could not go wrong. Unexpectedly, he had hit the mark exactly.
Slade Hammer's father was the president of Hammer Industries. As a conglomerate that had risen to prominence in recent years, Hammer Industries truly was considered nouveau riche by the old established financial groups. Otherwise, Slade would not have stepped forward to trouble Kraft. The descendants of those old financial dynasties were all sitting back calmly and watching the show from afar.
Slade's face twitched. He struggled to maintain the smile on his face and said through gritted teeth, "Jealousy is the original sin, Kraft. I understand how ordinary people like you might feel uneasy when faced with the refined life of high society, but there's no need—really, no need—to be so hostile. I only came to make friends with you. It has nothing to do with whether your family is wealthy."
As he continued, Slade gradually regained his initial sense of superiority and began gesturing at Kraft from a condescending position.
Yet after hearing Slade's words, Kraft laughed. "So you really are nouveau riche... The news reports may have been suppressed, but the name Martin Lee shouldn't be unknown in your circles, should it?"
After Martin Lee had helped him settle the paperwork related to the mechanical lock, Kraft had specifically looked into his adoptive father's financial strength. Only then had he discovered that nearly eighty percent of the businesses in New York's Chinatown had ties to Martin, and Martin had the final say in more than half of them. Thus, even in New York's financial world, packed with wealthy people, Martin Lee had a place of his own. Yet this Slade did not even know about his family, which meant calling him nouveau riche earlier had apparently been a lucky hit.
Slade's expression changed dramatically. Although Hammer Industries had little overlap with Martin Lee's businesses, he had heard that name before.
He'd been set up!
Accustomed to intrigue and scheming, Slade quickly realized what had happened. He turned to look at the people who had egged him on earlier. They were now gathered together in quiet conversation. When they noticed Slade looking at them, they all gave him mocking smiles, while the others around them quietly laughed at what he had just done.
Having thoroughly humiliated himself, Slade could not stay any longer. With a dark expression, he quietly apologized to Kraft, then left in embarrassment with his lackeys.
"Looks like someone used him as a weapon... what an idiot."
Kraft curled his lip and continued sampling the food on the table. Setting aside those bastards' attitudes, the food they had prepared was quite delicious. It would be a shame to waste it.