Masquerade parties are a tradition during the Festival of Smoke. Though it may be considered cliché, the most important thing is that it is romantic enough. Girls wear masks, dressed in their most confident and beautiful attire, with their personal numbers hanging around their waists. They showcase their youthful and stunning appearances on the dance floor, using their charm and conversation skills to conquer their male companions at the dining table. A girl's ball is like a battle.

During the masquerade, unmarried boys from various places are randomly invited. They jot down the numbers of the girls they genuinely admire and then cast their votes for them at the end of the party.

Of course, the organizers also include some professionally trained etiquette professors among these boys, and their voting weight is often higher.

During the masquerade, there is dining, dancing, just like any other party. But when it comes to the end, the girls will one by one step onto the central stage of the hall, take off their masks, and reveal their beauty.

As the girls reveal their true faces, everyone will rate their appearance.

In fact, the true purpose of the masquerade party is to judge a girl's virtues, temperament, manners, and appearance separately, and to make an objective evaluation.

As long as you wear a mask until the party ends, the mask is your identity, and the organizers won't care who signed up for the competition.

Even the nobles don't have to worry about it, but if an ordinary commoner wants to participate in this grand selection, inevitably, she either has to go on an adventure with her companions or volunteer to accumulate a certain amount of reputation among the crowd and be nominated.

The nomination by men is based on the mask or number plate worn by the girls, so it doesn't matter if the competitors don't reveal their faces. After all, whether they are likable or can gain popularity, it has nothing to do with how pretty they look.

"Raphael from the McNew Society seems to be appearing at the bar. It seems like someone important." Merka stood beside Turing, nodding nonchalantly.

"But it seems like he appears at the bar every day. I just don't know which hotel in Red Port."

[Raphael, what is this guy planning?]

[My mother never told me about this. I thought being a noble would guarantee a chance to participate, even without saying anything.]

"Merka, let's go inside and take a look." Turing, contrary to his previous indifferent attitude, shook Merka's arm as if coquettishly and rushed into the tavern.

"Eh, this child..." Merka adjusted his collar and a small vine curled up on his face, climbing up his cheek.

"What's wrong, little Gear?" Merka lowered his head slightly and whispered.

"Ah... is it like this? There are many electrical devices in this shop." The leaves on the vine trembled slightly, as if cheering.

"That is also normal..." Merka smiled knowingly, touched the glass door of the bar crafted with modern technology, and followed Turing into the shop.

The elaborate and magnificent crystal chandelier shed gentle light on the murmuring crowd in the bar.

Highball glasses, sofas, elegant bottle openers, ice-making machines. Merka enjoyed the sight of these aspects of Acadia's modern industry that shouldn't be seen.

As if inspired, Merka unconsciously reached out to Turing's shoulder, gently stroking and comforting him.

"Look at these, although dazzling. But if you were abroad, they would be commonplace," Merka said, "Isn't it impressive?"

Waiters moved back and forth in pairs, wearing tuxedos with bow ties. They carried trays or pushed liquor racks. Each of them had a small microphone hanging by their mouths and occasionally spoke in low voices, appearing as if they were talking to themselves in Turing's eyes.

"Well... it's impressive." Turing couldn't help covering his nose and mouth, and his small eyelashes trembled.

[A hint of wormwood scent... what's going on?]

[Does this hotel spray this perfume?]

Unexpectedly, even though Turing covered his nose, the milky, dry fragrance irresistibly entered his brain."What on earth is going on... What is it... What is emitting it... Where is it?" Turing looked around in confusion, taking in the surroundings - the marble bar, the classical flower vases with flowers, the statue of Sphinx, the Yamaha grand piano, and other luxurious items.

"It's that person... No, it's that piano." Turing's gaze crossed over the middle-aged man in a black tailcoat, who was being lectured by a woman wearing a fitting suit and a mask, and found the piano.

"It must be the scent coming from that piano." Turing walked straight towards the grand piano, ignoring the ongoing conversation between the two.

"Hey, Sisi, don't go." Merka whispered quietly behind Turing.

"Unbelievable, your clumsy fingers can even get tangled up. Thankfully Lord Raphael is not here today, or I would have left before you could even submit your resignation letter." The woman scolded the man mercilessly.

"I'm sorry... Miss Golding, please give me another chance..." The man almost bowed his head to his chest.

"His fingers are fat, and there are broken nails on them. It's surprising to see a professional pianist's fingers in this condition." Turing furrowed his brows slightly.

"His eyes are so red, he must be an alcoholic."

"No, why do I know this? I don't think I learned to play the piano when I was young."

"Maybe I did learn, who knows, I've learned so many things, I can't remember everything."

"Little girl, what are you doing?" The woman, even with her mask on, exuded a cold aura and a bad mood.

"Um... I want to play the piano, is that okay?" Turing's heart skipped a beat when he saw the mask on Miss Golding's face, which had a pattern depicting a swirling fiery sword.

"Of course... No, this is not a place for children to fool around." Golding said.

"Then I want to work here, can I give it a try?" Although Turing had no idea about the procedure for job interviews or the contract that should be followed between adults in the workplace, she still had the courage to speak up.

"Ugh, dealing with useless people all day is tiring enough... Now I have to deal with kids too, spare me." Golding said, glaring at the middle-aged man beside her. The man continued to hang his head obediently.

Upon hearing this, Turing didn't say much, bypassed Golding, and walked straight towards the piano.

"Ah... I'll indulge you this time." Merka, who was standing not far away, murmured to herself, softly speaking into the collar of her shirt, "Little gear, destroy it." Soft leaf blades extended onto Merka's cheek, revealing a sharp gash.

"Hey, send someone from the security department to take this unknown child out," Golding said as she held the intercom to her mouth.

"Hello? Hello? Why is there no sound?" Golding tried a few times, but there was no sound coming through the earpiece.

Unbeknownst to her, leaves had grown on the cable of Golding's earphones at some point.