Unveiled Conversations

In the grand hall, a long table was meticulously arranged in the center, with seating positions meticulously assigned. Only 60 individuals were invited, each receiving one of three types of invitations: copper, silver, or gold. The significance behind AR's choice remained a mystery, yet as glances were surreptitiously exchanged, a sudden wave of envy and arrogance filled the air. The opulent hall of AR's residence resembled an European Renaissance palace, emanating an atmosphere of unspoken competition. Assumptions began to form, suggesting that the type of invitation received signified the value AR placed upon each guest.

Human nature, with its oftentimes misguided interpretations, was at play once again.

Aisha had been standing next to a distinguished middle-aged man since earlier, radiating freshness and charm. They were well acquainted through business and ultra high-end lifestyle magazines. It was Martin Ingmar, the late Mason Durlach's cousin and the second-in-command at Durlach Corporation. For the attendees, it was undoubtedly an extraordinary honor to be in the presence of a prominent heiress and engage in conversation with a globally influential figure. Visiting the grand residence of a wealthy magnate and mingling with such a distinguished individual was an unparalleled opportunity. However, many were curious, where was AR truly?

Or rather, who was AR?

But Martin Ingmar paid no heed to the lingering question on everyone's mind, effortlessly playing the perfect host for the impeccable dinner. The post-dinner conversations in the living room of AR's residence, named Weathergrass, were delightful, gradually causing the guests to forget that their primary purpose was to uncover AR's true identity. However, Aymard couldn't shake off his curiosity about the heiress.

"Hey, is she the Aisha that Alaric mentioned with the exquisite legs?"

Marcello Frey, Aymard's childhood friend, suddenly appeared, interrupting Aymard as he leaned against the balcony railing. They had spent their elementary years together on the West Coast before Aymard heeded Dharma's request to move to Indonesia. Aymard followed Marcello's intense gaze, leading him to Aisha. A small laugh escaped his lips as he cleared his throat, straightened his posture, and turned to face Marcello, standing shoulder to shoulder.

"I noticed those exquisite legs first, my friend," Aymard whispered.

Marcello chuckled, "Damn, Alaric was right. Ah, why is she wearing such a modest dress?"

Aymard sighed, "She's an assistant, you fool. Also, she's a mother."

Marcello smirked now, "That's precisely it. Martin Ingmar should have instructed her to dress more alluringly. A mother? Seriously, Aymard? What does that even mean? Besides, her child isn't here."

Aymard simply smiled, observing Aisha, who appeared the most understated amidst the grand dinner. No excessive shimmering jewels adorned her, no garments made from rare materials. Nor did she wear seductive low-cut dresses crafted by renowned and captivating designers.

"Ah, Aymard my friend, your eyes look hungry," Marcello teased playfully.

Aymard smiled broadly.

"Well, Isabel is over there, let me take care of the Long-Legged Beauty for you," Marcello quipped, winking mischievously.

Aymard burst into laughter upon hearing his remark. Isabel was Aymard's most recent ex-girlfriend and also had a blood relation to Marcello through his sister's side, tracing back to Marcello's maternal grandfather. As usual, almost everyone seemed to be distantly related when tracing the complex family tree.

"Is she satisfying you?" Marcello elbowed into the railing.

"Enough with your nonsense, Marcello. This is a respectable gathering," Aymard nudged him back.

Marcello grinned, "A respectable gathering? Considering the people present here, I'd rather call it a constellation effort, okay?"

Aymard chuckled, glancing at Aisha who was constantly by Martin Ingmar's side. Marcello was right. Considering the fact that Martin Ingmar personally greeted the guests with golden invitations, it was evident that this was a business-oriented event. Moreover, now Martin Ingmar was seated with Dharma and those individuals - whom Aymard knew better not to mention. They were the shadowy figures who held control over the nation's executives. This would be a premium-level business affair.

"Where's Alaric? Your foolish little brother hasn't been seen flaunting himself for a while," Marcello asked.

Aymard shook his head, "He's probably off somewhere looking for a quiet spot with your little sister."

Marcello squinted, "You little bastard."

Aymard laughed until he noticed Dharma turning to him, signaling him to join. Marcello grumbled in annoyance.

"You're lucky to have a seat to listen to Martin Ingmar. Don't forget about your friend here if you ever need assistance."

Aymard smiled, patting Marcello's shoulder, "Of course, my friend!"

As Aymard approached, Aisha turned her head, visibly taken aback for a moment before nodding politely and gesturing for Aymard to take the additional chair promptly offered by a servant. Aymard restrained his smile, trying to maintain a professional distance, even though he secretly longed to greet Aisha with a warm and beaming smile.

"Allow me to introduce Aymard Dirdja, Lord Martin Ingmar. He is the eldest son of Dharma Dirdja and Magdeléne Proust," Aisha introduced, her voice filled with grace.

Martin Ingmar observed Aymard extending his arm for a handshake during the introduction. Martin attentively watched before returning the handshake and then turned to Dharma, engaging in small talk with a touch of praise. Dharma responded with a practiced smile that exuded warmth and sincerity, just like most others in the room. It was evident that Dharma was pleased with the positive impression Aymard had made.

"Alright, Aisha. Now it's the men's turn. You may take a short break. Joining the ladies is another option," Martin Ingmar said fluently in Indonesian.

Aisha smiled, nodding obediently before stepping away. Aymard glanced at her briefly, hoping for a word or two from Aisha. But she seemed indifferent and turned away without acknowledging anyone. Aymard had hoped to exchange pleasantries with her, but it wasn't reciprocated.

Martin Ingmar observed Aymard and smiled knowingly when their eyes met.

"She is quite intriguing," he teased.

Aymard froze for a moment before letting out a controlled hearty laugh. It was a polite laughter that he had cultivated over the years through his experiences with various individuals. Dharma maintained her smile, although questions started to fill her mind. It was apparent that Aymard was genuinely interested in the Assistant who was currently greeting the ladies. This was highly unusual because, to Dharma's knowledge, Aymard always chose not to show his interest in a woman in public.

Martin Ingmar cleared his throat, "Well then, I must say we are delighted to be warmly welcomed in this country," he said, initiating the conversation as he nodded to a Senior Official from the Central Bank.

"And also, to all the friendly colleagues who have taken the time to attend this dinner invitation. I am here to seek your cooperation in assisting our Heiress."

Aymard looked at Martin Ingmar, the powerful man who had just thrown out the initial proposal.

"She is still too shy to present herself at her own home, so I am here as her representative. I kindly ask for your patience and willingness to guide her in various matters. Of course, we will never forget your kindness."

Aymard didn't blink. It was indeed a straightforward opening speech, without any unnecessary pleasantries. It seemed that Martin Ingmar had chosen them all as allies. Aymard observed Dharma's relieved smile and that of the others. It was a mediation of risky agreements, displaying an extraordinary level of confidence for a newcomer. Then, in the next second, Aymard held his breath momentarily. No, with that level of confidence, it was highly unlikely that Durlach was a newcomer. Perhaps they had conducted business under a different name in the past. Or maybe they already had powerful backers.

"Meanwhile, all our affairs here still remain under Aisha's control. Please forgive us if it makes you all uncomfortable. But what can we do?"

Laughter of understanding filled the air, accompanied by polite remarks. Aymard scanned the room. His gaze stopping at a young man in the far corner. He held his breath, finally understanding Martin Ingmar Durlach's unwavering confidence. It appeared that Durlach had already formed an alliance with a brilliant young man from a family that shied away from the limelight of power struggles. A family that excelled in erasing any traces. The young man represented the old corporation, a family that should never become an enemy.

"And I am pleased with the young people who quickly understand their responsibilities. We can breathe a little easier because this cooperation involves them."

Aymard turned and found Martin Ingmar looking at him warmly, alternating his gaze with the other person. Despite the complex thoughts swirling in his mind, Aymard mustered a smile in return. The other person smiled back at him. Eventually, Aymard and the person exchanged respectful nods.

"Both of you, the young people, can certainly provide a fresh perspective," Martin Ingmar remarked.

Both Aymard and that person nodded, accompanied by their practiced laughter. Indeed, socializing was always exhausting. However, Aymard hadn't anticipated it to be this draining. Magdeléne and Alaric seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the party, while he was starting to feel weary. Ironically, Aymard had been the most excited initially, hoping to find a moment with Aisha for a casual conversation. He had wanted the opportunity to get to know her better. Unfortunately, everything seemed to be going in the opposite direction now.

Damn it. That golden box, Aymard still had to pay the price for it.

*****