"Miss Tomie, this is an artistic philosophy unique to the Reibin Club. They collaborate with several top-tier bio-material artists, pursuing a kind of primal, lifelike texture."
Toshiyuki Eide hurriedly explained to Tomie.
Though, truth be told, he himself wasn't fond of this kind of art either.
Although quite a few people in the Toshiyuki family enjoyed dabbling in this sort of thing, displaying it as art—didn't they have too much time on their hands?
Toshiyuki Eide grumbled to himself.
Kawakami Tomie nodded as though she half-understood.
Simply put, it was the high-end taste of upper-class society, right?
She didn't understand art, nor did she care about it; but as long as it was high-class, that was enough.
Amamiya Rin shook his head slightly. He couldn't understand this kind of art, and he didn't want to.
Skirting around that carpet, Amamiya Rin swept his gaze around the living room.
The party wasn't all that large—perhaps twenty or thirty people. At a glance, most were handsome men and beautiful women, aged between twenty and thirty, with a smaller portion being middle-aged and older folk in their forties and fifties, all impressively dressed.
A few waiters in champagne-colored uniforms wove silently among the guests, balancing silver trays.
Toshiyuki Eide straightened his back, took a stemmed glass from a tray, and raised it toward a middle-aged man in a purple suit some distance away, who responded with a smiling nod.
"That gentleman is one of the club's founders, Mr. Tokugawa Mitsuyoshi."
Toshiyuki turned his head and said to Amamiya Rin and Tomie, his tone carrying a familiar sort of boastfulness.
"I imagine I needn't explain the surname Tokugawa, do I?"
Amamiya Rin nodded noncommittally.
At the mention of Tokugawa, the first person he thought of was Tokugawa Mitsunari—though it made no difference; the Tokugawa in Tokugawa Mitsunari was the same as the Tokugawa in Tokugawa Ieyasu.
For Toshiyuki Eide to mention him in such a tone, that man must have come from this old shogunate lineage.
Seeing that Amamiya Rin's attitude remained indifferent, Toshiyuki felt a bit put out, and as if to save face, went on: "This is Amamiya-kun's first time at such an occasion, isn't it? Relax a little, treat it as broadening your horizons. Those few over there are industrialists who've been drawing a lot of attention lately. The one in the dark blue suit is the CEO of Sanryo Heavy Industries; the lady beside him is the principal of the National Opera House; that one is Mr. Motoyuki of the Inotomo Foundation; and that one is a blood relative of Lord Numahira of the Funki Party..."
Toshiyuki Eide spoke with great eloquence, looking every bit like a man holding forth on the affairs of the world.
Amamiya Rin merely stared at those bizarre pieces of furniture.
He still felt something was off. They called it bio-material, but with his powers of observation, the more he looked, the more it seemed to him to be human skin.
And Toshiyuki Eide, after talking at length, turned to look and saw Amamiya Rin wearing an absent-minded expression—evidently, all his introductions just now had gone in one ear and out the other.
The curve of his lips instantly collapsed, and the anger in his chest that he'd only just pressed down flared up again in a flash.
"Amamiya-kun."
Toshiyuki Eide raised his voice a little, with obvious irritation.
When Amamiya Rin turned back to look at him, that nonchalant air made Toshiyuki Eide want to explode all the more.
No! He couldn't lose his composure in a place like this!
Toshiyuki Eide drew in a deep breath, forced down the anger in his heart, and said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes: "If you're not comfortable with this sort of occasion, you can go sit in the lounge area over there."
He pointed toward the corner; the meaning behind his words was obvious—he was sending Amamiya Rin packing.
"Sure."
Amamiya Rin nodded gladly. He wasn't good at these occasions to begin with, nor did he intend to curry favor with those Japanese aristocrats, financial magnates, and bureaucrats. Staying alone in a corner, eating something, then heading back—that suited him just fine.
Toshiyuki's lips twitched. Before he could say a word, Amamiya Rin had already walked off toward the long table at the edge of the living room.
The long table was draped with a snow-white cloth, the food taking on an enticing sheen under the warm light.
Chilled oysters were piled atop crushed ice, accompanied by lemon wedges and a red wine vinegar sauce. Several plates of exquisite sushi and sashimi were neatly arranged—the tuna belly a lovely pink, the salmon belly gleaming with an orange-red luster. There were also caviar-topped blinis, flower-shaped desserts, all manner of wagashi, and fresh fruit.
Amamiya Rin took a white porcelain plate, first picking up two pieces of tuna, then a few pieces of sushi, and casually grabbing a few slices of watermelon, before heading toward the lounge area.
As his gaze swept over those eerie seats, just as Amamiya Rin was about to find a normal chair to sit in, he overheard the chatter and laughter of several women seated on the so-called art sofas.
A beauty in a silver sequined gown stroked the surface of the seat with her palm, chuckling softly: "Hehehe, the feel of sitting on this is really lovely—soft and form-fitting."
"Of course," remarked the short-haired beauty in a little black dress beside her, swirling her champagne glass and commenting offhandedly. "The grade of material used is different, after all. Just look at this luster—what ordinary fabric could ever have such a living, lifelike texture?"
The doll-faced, adorable girl gave a giggle: "The luster really is extraordinary—this, after all, is the luster of youth."
Their conversation drifted into Amamiya Rin's ears, making his steps falter slightly.
He simply stopped a few paces away, turned to the side, and looked carefully at that sofa.
Earlier, viewing it from afar, he'd only felt uneasy; now, up close and under the bright lights, the lifelike grain on the sofa, the fine pores, even the faint bluish veins lurking just beneath the skin, were all so clear that it turned his stomach.
That texture was absolutely not plastic or resin!
Amamiya Rin's brow gradually furrowed, and the conjecture he'd previously dismissed surfaced again from the bottom of his heart.
Was it really that kind of material?
Such a thing—a violation of ethics, morality, law, and human rights—actually appearing so openly at a so-called upper-class party? Even Lamaism wouldn't do something like this anymore!
Because his scrutinizing gaze was too direct, it soon drew attention.
The woman in the silver gown was the first to turn her head. When her gaze landed on Amamiya Rin's face, she was visibly stunned for a moment.
The young man before her had an upright build, and the simple suit on him carried a crisp, sharp elegance. His features were handsome, his nose high and straight, his brow firm—his whole being possessing a masculine vigor that most idols nowadays lacked.
But what was more striking was his gaze—like the water of a deep, secluded pool, calm on the surface and reflecting all things, possessing a clarity and serenity that seemed able to pierce through every glittering, superficial façade.
This stark contrast formed a peculiar sort of charm.
A flash of amazement and keen interest crossed her eyes; the hand she'd casually draped over the back of the seat now came down, a radiant smile blossomed across her face, and she gazed at Amamiya Rin with sparkling eyes.
"Oh my, a new face. Is this your first time at a Reibin party?"
Amamiya Rin nodded absent-mindedly.
Seeing that he didn't pick up the conversation, the woman didn't mind; on the contrary, she found that this aloof manner of his added a few more touches of allure.
She stood up with a smile and stepped two paces closer: "I'm Tsubakihara Tomomi. And you?"
"Amamiya Rin."
Amamiya Rin's answer was very terse, his tone dry; uncharacteristically, he showed little courtesy toward another person.
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