Chapter 11: The Event

The boutique manager dismissed the sales associate and led Elias Crane into the back showroom.

"This way, Mr. Crane. Please come in."

The interior lights were bright, illuminating the stately, European-inspired wooden furniture that lined the walls, giving the room a refined, old-world charm. In the center stood several tall glass cases, each displaying a meticulously tailored suit.

"Mr. Crane, I understand you're attending a formal dinner tonight. There's no time to craft a custom suit from scratch, but here we showcase several top-tier, ready-to-wear pieces. We can alter one of these to your measurements. Your build is quite standard, so with minor tailoring, you'll be all set."

She gestured to the leftmost display. "If I may suggest, I recommend this one—it's not too formal but still vibrant in design."

Elias followed her gaze to see a blue-black suit behind the glass. Even to his untrained eye, it looked significantly higher-end than what was out front.

"All right, let's try that one," Elias said. He only owned one off-the-rack suit from a past interview and trusted a professional's opinion over his own limited experience.

After changing, Elias admired himself in the mirror. Indeed, clothes made the man—this top-of-the-line suit gave him a strikingly polished look.

"I'll take it," he decided.

"Certainly, Mr. Crane. This way, please. I'll have our tailor finalize your fit. Would you like me to suggest a tie?"

Elias nodded. "Sure. Please pick one that matches."

***

An hour later, Elias stepped out of Brioni carrying a suit carrier—he'd learned for the first time that high-end suits often come in such protective cases. The manager had explained that once he got home, he should hang the suit properly to avoid creases; the carrier was meant for safe transport.

"Quite the delicate thing, huh?" Elias muttered, feeling as if he were holding a case of gold bars.

He was curious about the suit's actual cost—none of the three display cases had price tags, and the manager simply said it would go on Ms. Harrington's account. In the end, Elias left without learning the exact figure.

***

By 7:00 p.m., Elias arrived by taxi at the event venue: a grand, historic mansion—perhaps the most luxurious in New York. Upon pulling up to the entrance, a valet opened the cab door, shielding the frame with an outstretched hand.

"Careful stepping out, sir," the valet said politely.

Elias made his way into the mansion's foyer. Several guests passed by, each greeting him with a friendly nod or smile, which Elias returned with polite bows of his head. Everything exuded an elegant, old-European feel—arched corridors, carved pillars, the warm glow of chandeliers.

Inside the main hall, the banquet hadn't officially begun. Attendees milled about with drinks in hand, chatting in small clusters. A live violin-piano duo performed from a raised landing on the second floor, the music softly drifting through the space. Elias couldn't help but think of scenes from Titanic, picturing a lavish ballroom alive with quiet sophistication.

He soon spotted Miranda Harrington. Tonight, she wore a deep burgundy evening gown, her hair in a formal updo. She'd switched her morning silver earrings for ruby-red studs that complemented the dress perfectly. Compared to her usual business attire, she now looked every inch the elegant socialite—like a rose in full bloom, aloof yet alluring.

***

"Elias, you're here." Ms. Harrington noticed him, her eyes flicking over his new suit. She nodded, clearly satisfied. "You have good taste—this style suits you."

She stepped closer and adjusted the knot of his tie, pulling it snug.

"Remember, Elias: a suit is a man's armor, and the tie is his sword. Keep it tight."

"Ah, right… thanks," Elias murmured, feeling mildly self-conscious.

Ms. Harrington tapped his lapel, then reclaimed her wine glass. "Let's go. This is a scientific fundraiser, hosted by the Greater New York Business Council's president: Chase Rivers."

She nodded toward a tall, broad-shouldered man standing by the grand staircase, surrounded by other well-dressed individuals.

"That's Rivers—the most influential figure in New York business circles right now."

"I've heard of him," Elias replied. Indeed, Chase Rivers was a name almost everyone in the city knew: as the head of the local business council, with countless connections both overt and behind the scenes, he was not someone to cross. Many half-legend stories circulated about him, from philanthropic initiatives to rumored under-the-table deals. Some claimed he doted on a daughter, though Elias wasn't sure if that was true.

"I heard he's known for spoiling his daughter," Elias said, remembering one of the rumors.

Ms. Harrington smiled. "That part seems accurate. He adores her."

"Guess that explains why people call him a 'girl-dad.'"

She nodded, glancing around. "He usually brings her to events, but I don't see her tonight. She's a sweet kid—quite pretty."

"Got it," Elias said noncommittally. He wasn't that interested in local gossip.

***

"Look over there," Ms. Harrington said, steering Elias's attention across the room to a lone figure standing by the far wall. The man, looking somewhat out of place, wore a rumpled dress shirt that didn't really fit the upscale occasion. A scruffy beard shadowed his jaw, and thick square-framed glasses—fogged from humidity—sat askew on his nose.

"That's Professor Ethan West, from Hudson University," she explained. "Ever heard of him?"

Elias shook his head. "Can't say I have." Hudson U was a big institution. He didn't even know every professor in his own department, let alone others.

"West is the only scientist in the country focusing on hibernation pod research—like futuristic cryosleep. He's been at it for years with little progress, lacking even basic theory for practical results. It's too… outlandish, and no institute wants to fund him. Former colleagues and students gradually abandoned him. He's stuck as an associate professor—no major breakthroughs or grants."

"Sounds pretty sci-fi," Elias mused.

Ms. Harrington's gaze shifted to her wine glass. "Yes, it's generally seen as impossible. Yet…fate can be funny. He had another setback recently while experimenting with a certain cryo-fluid formula. Instead, he accidentally discovered a brand-new chemical compound."

She swirled the wine, then set her glass on a nearby table, exchanging it for a fresh one from a passing server.

"This compound interacts with water molecules to form a single-layer membrane—breathable, but completely watertight and harmless to human skin."

With a hint of a smile, she cast Elias a meaningful look. "To Professor West's cryonics project, it's a failure. But, Elias—do you realize what this could mean in our skincare industry?"