Chapter : 642

"This gala is ruining my schedule," Ken thought casually to himself. He stared at the ceiling. "I usually spend Tuesday afternoons taking a very long nap on the rug. Then I wake up, eat a bag of sour cream and onion chips, and read a comic book. It is a flawless routine. Now I have to stand in a giant room full of arrogant snobs. I have to listen to politicians brag about their money."

Ken let out another loud sigh. He looked at his team.

"This is like the terrible ballroom dancing episode in an anime," Ken analyzed in his mind. "The main characters go to a fancy party. They try to act polite. But someone always steps on someone else's toes while dancing. Then a villain shows up and ruins the chandelier. It is highly predictable. I just hope nobody asks me to dance. Dancing is a massive amount of cardio."

Naomi noticed his gloomy expression. She stepped closer to him. She did not tell him to stop pouting. She offered a comforting, quiet smile.

"It will be over before you know it, Ken," Naomi promised softly. "We just have to show our faces. We have to prove to the 1st Prince that we are a united front. Once the polite greetings are finished, we can find a quiet corner. We can eat cake and make fun of the snobby nobles together."

Ken’s goofy grin returned instantly. He liked that plan.

"Making fun of rich people is my favorite hobby," Ken agreed lazily. He gave her a lazy thumbs-up. "You have a deal, boss lady. We will form an alliance near the buffet table. We will defend the snacks from the enemy."

"It is a flawless strategy," Naomi chuckled.

Princess Iris clapped her hands gently. The soft sound drew everyone's attention.

"The carriages are waiting outside," Princess Iris announced. Her violet eyes looked very determined. "Remember our goal tonight. We are not looking for a fight. We are not investigating a crime. We are simply projecting strength. Do not let anyone intimidate you."

Laxmi punched her open palm. "I will not let anyone push us around! If some rich guy insults us, I will accidentally spill hot soup on his nice shoes."

"Please do not spill soup on anyone, Laxmi," Sayma requested politely. She pushed her glasses up. "We must maintain decorum."

Luna sat up on her wooden bench. She rubbed her eyes. She let the knitted blanket fall to the floor. She wore a simple, loose gray dress. She yawned loudly. "Can we just go? The sooner we arrive, the sooner we can leave. I want my bed."

"Let us go," Zinia agreed. She opened the front door of the estate.

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The 13th Unit filed out of the house. They stepped into the bright afternoon sun. Two large, polished black carriages waited in the courtyard. The horses stood patiently.

Ken dragged his shiny black shoes on the stone path. Scuff. Scuff. Scuff. He put his hands toward his pockets, remembered they were fake, and let his arms flop uselessly to his sides. He looked annoyed by the lack of pocket space.

He climbed into the carriage and sank into the leather seat. He prepared himself for a very long, very boring night of fake smiles and tiny foods. He had no idea that the rest of his family was also dealing with the exact same massive event, just from a different perspective.

---

Far away from the wealthy Inner City, the atmosphere was different.

The Iron Rose District buzzed with ordinary, everyday noise. Wooden carts rolled down the dirt roads. Street vendors yelled out their daily prices. The smell of fresh bread and roasted vegetables filled the warm afternoon air. The citizens here did not wear silk or gold. They wore simple cotton shirts and sturdy leather boots.

Inside a small, white stone house, Jasmin sat at a square wooden kitchen table.

Ken’s younger sister stared at a massive stack of thick university preparation books. She held a wooden pencil in her hand. She chewed on the end of the eraser. Her dark eyes scanned a page filled with complex math equations. She rubbed her forehead. The numbers blurred together on the paper.

"This is impossible," Jasmin muttered to herself. She dropped the pencil onto the table. It made a soft clacking sound. "I will never memorize all these formulas. My brain is officially full."

Khadija walked into the cozy kitchen. Ken’s plump, kind-faced mother wore a bright floral apron. She carried a small glass bowl in her hands. A sweet, delicious smell drifted from the bowl. She placed the bowl gently on the table right in front of Jasmin.

"Take a break, sweetheart," Khadija smiled warmly. She patted Jasmin's dark hair. "You have been staring at those books for three hours. Eat some fresh caramel pudding. It will give you some energy."

Jasmin looked at the golden pudding. A small smile touched her lips. She picked up a silver spoon. "Thank you, Mom. I really need a sugar boost. These exams are difficult. The university fees are also very expensive. I need to get a top score to earn a scholarship."

Khadija sat down in the chair across from her. She rested her chin on her hands. Her eyes looked a little sad. "You work very hard, Jasmin. Your father and I are very proud of you. I just wish we could help you more with the money."

"It is okay, Mom," Jasmin promised. She took a bite of the sweet pudding. It melted perfectly on her tongue. "I will find a part-time job soon. I can work in the evenings after my classes."

Brandon Eliot walked into the kitchen. Ken’s father wore a faded gray work shirt. His hands looked rough from working at the textile factory. He smiled a gentle, quiet smile at his wife and daughter.

"Finding a good job in this district is tough right now," Brandon noted softly. He walked over to the sink and washed his hands. "The factory cut our overtime hours last week. The economy is a bit slow. But we will manage. We always do."

Jasmin swallowed her food. She looked at the empty chair at the end of the table. It was Ken's usual spot.

"I wonder what Ken is doing right now," Jasmin said. She shook her head. She rolled her eyes playfully. "He is probably asleep on a fancy couch somewhere. He always finds a way to avoid doing any actual work. He is so lazy."

Khadija chuckled softly. She wiped a spot of flour off the wooden table. "Your brother has his own way of doing things. The news says the 13th Unit is very successful. He must be helping them somehow."

"He helps them by staying out of the way," Jasmin joked.

Suddenly, a firm knock echoed from the front door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Brandon dried his hands on a towel. He walked out of the kitchen. He opened the front door.