The reception was held in the garden courtyard during the evening.
This was quite different from what most people imagined a garden to be like at night: a dark, gloomy place where you couldn't see anything once the sun went down.
As a master of landscape gardening, Mrs. Rachel Lambert Mellon had put considerable thought into the lighting arrangements for the nighttime scenery.
She hadn't flooded the entire grounds with enormous spotlights until they were as bright as a sports stadium in broad daylight. Nor had she taken the tacky approach of stringing together rows of Christmas tree lights and hanging them everywhere.
Most of the lighting was directed at the plants. The light reflected off the foliage then illuminated the surrounding areas. This approach gave the garden a soft, gentle glow at night, while naturally drawing people's eyes toward the plants.
The artworks, meanwhile, received different lighting effects according to their individual characteristics. Some antique oil paintings, for instance, weren't suitable for direct exposure to intense light. Prolonged exposure to strong light and heat could cause the paint to soften and damage the paintings.
Other modern artworks, particularly three-dimensional pieces and sculptures, required careful consideration of how they would look under artificial lighting. Some of the original artists had come to help with the arrangements or had provided suggestions.
More often, however, it was Mrs. Rachel Lambert Mellon's distinctive artistic vision that determined the final setup. Under her design, the addition of lighting breathed new life into these works, almost as if they had undergone a second artistic creation, allowing them to display a completely different charm from what they showed during the day.
Henry's crystal hologram was one of the few exceptions, since the work itself already incorporated a light source. Its three-dimensional projections appeared even more vivid at night. Subtle differences in color that had been difficult to see during the day also became visible as the surrounding light levels dropped.
The reception was arranged as a buffet, with servers circulating among the guests to offer low-alcohol beverages and collect empty glasses.
Since the event was being held outdoors, there was naturally a contingency plan for rain and other adverse weather. Fortunately, the weather had been cooperative over the past several days, with clear skies and gentle breezes.
While everyone else focused on socializing and making connections, Henry was far more interested in the delicious food the Mellon family had laid out.
The dishes prepared by old-money families weren't usually accompanied by elaborate plating or decorations in a rainbow of colors. Their presentation was rather ordinary, without the emphasis on visual appeal commonly seen in French Michelin-starred cuisine.
But one bite was enough to reveal the extraordinary refinement of the food.
Take a piece of fish, for example. A dish carefully prepared with the finest ingredients was worlds apart from one made using merely premium ingredients available at a supermarket. The same was true of every dish, from potatoes and spinach to bacon and oxtail soup.
Even prepared using the simplest cooking methods, the finest ingredients could produce flavors far superior to those of fruits, vegetables, dairy products, eggs, meat, and poultry raised with flashy techniques but ultimately produced using chemical fertilizers, pesticides, growth enhancers, and other chemicals.
Of course, Henry wasn't just eating. He was also observing the many different kinds of people at the reception.
The most relaxed group consisted of the old-money guests who already knew one another. They had longstanding relationships with Mrs. Mellon and belonged to roughly the same generation. Even those who weren't quite her contemporaries were at an age when retirement had left them with plenty of free time. Naturally, their conversations were the most relaxed and effortless.
Another group belonged to the same social class, but its members were noticeably younger. Though "younger" was relative, of course, since they were being compared with a crowd approaching a hundred years of age.
These people were probably CEOs of various companies or directors of prominent foundations. They were approaching retirement, but still occupied positions of power. The air of authority they naturally commanded was noticeably different from that of the retired old men and women.
Within their own families, however, the real power still rested in the hands of those retired elders. That authority might not be passed down until the elders had finally been laid to rest.
Consequently, these executives, who appeared so imposing to outsiders, behaved rather more respectfully here. They didn't bow and scrape to everyone they met, but they were considerably more deferential than usual, keeping any unnecessary displays of arrogance firmly in check.
There was also a group of younger people around Henry's age. Their attire was less formal than that of the old-money crowd, and they dressed in a more casual style. These were probably the creators of the newer works on display.
They had finally secured an opportunity to make contact with the Mellon family, and now these young men were strutting around like peacocks, doing their best to promote themselves in hopes of winning the favor of even one influential figure.
Still, none of them had been as crude as Henry. His artwork practically announced that it had been created to flatter the hostess.
These artists had brought works that best expressed their ideas and showcased their individual personalities. They hoped their creations would catch the eyes of those viewing them.
Henry couldn't read their minds, of course. But from the occasional disdainful glances they cast his way, the Kryptonian, whose understanding of psychology was reasonably good, could tell exactly how viciously they were cursing him in their heads. They simply weren't saying it out loud.
But everyone had different goals, and Henry had no intention of clinging to the Mellon family's coattails. He'd created the crystal simply to make an elderly lady happy.
After all, before preparing the exhibit, he'd privately contacted Givenchy to ask for some information. Only then had he decided to make the piece and present it as a gift.
But even if he publicly explained his reasoning, would anyone believe such a weak excuse? People always seemed to prefer interpreting others' motives in the worst possible light.
Fortunately, having nothing to gain from the event allowed Henry to ignore most of the hostility. He even took the opportunity to observe, at close range, a spectacle of human behavior not unlike an investment-pitching session: a group of young people trying to win the favor of the elderly.
The Kryptonian was convinced that if selling their bodies would help, some of them might have done so on the spot...
Of course, behaving that way at Mrs. Mellon's reception would mean accepting that their future relationship with her would be beyond repair.
Although Henry's eyesight hadn't recovered enough for him to clearly make out every corner of the moonlit reception, his superhuman hearing was working perfectly well. The self-promotional speeches he overheard were often so artfully phrased yet so utterly nonsensical that he repeatedly struggled to contain his laughter.
"Mr. Henry Brown?"
The man who approached Henry didn't look like the stereotypical bloated old-money executive. Judging by his gait and the way he distributed his weight as he moved, he seemed more like a mercenary accustomed to combat.
"That's me. And you are?" Henry asked, extending a friendly hand.
Based on his memories and observations, this man didn't belong to the group of young creators looking for wealthy patrons and financial backing. He seemed to be one of the still-active corporate executives, men in their prime who hadn't yet retired.
The people in this group all knew one another, however, so no one had bothered to introduce themselves or explain who the others were. Naturally, the Kryptonian had no way of guessing this man's identity.
"I'm Ezekiel Sims, CEO of Sims Future Ventures."
"Ah, pleased to meet you."
The two shook hands.
A venture capital firm was what people in Silicon Valley commonly referred to as an "angel investor."
These firms primarily provided funding in exchange for early equity in teams that had promising ideas but lacked the capital to develop them. Sometimes, they also taught these teams how to establish a legitimate company and operate it in accordance with the law.
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