There were no lights on the terrace, just pitch darkness. Three figures stood by the front stone railing, with Claude Dawling on the inside. From their vantage point, New York's streets stretched straight to the horizon. Jenny watched them, identifying two by their silhouettes. One was her boss, another was the boss from the upstairs department, and the third was presumably the famous writer Mr. Aernai. She walked along the corridor to get closer, catching fragments of their conversation about the book fair. Mr. Claude's tone sounded forced; she heard him give a dry laugh and then tilt his head back to down the liquid in his glass. Jenny looked thoughtful, then turned and walked toward the wine room next to the cigar room. A waiter was working inside. She exchanged a few words with him, then carried a tray of several glasses of soda water with honey toward the terrace. Claude was leaning sideways, talking to Zweit, who stood further inside. Jenny lowered her head, approached the men, and naturally took the empty glass Mr. Aernai handed her. She now acted completely professional, as if she had worked in the hotel for years, moving briskly and making no sound with the glassware on her tray. Two minutes earlier, she had specifically asked a waiter for tips, holding the front part of the tray with five fingers. Claude also reached for a glass, placing his empty wine glass on the tray. He turned to his cousin and said, "...I heard that at next month's book fair, Gaiernie and the others will come. You stayed there so long, you're on good terms with him—shouldn't you know best? It should be a sure thing. Honestly, I've always thought you're much better than Remiel. Uncle's temper is really..." Zweit, without a glass in hand, turned his head, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment, then reached out and took a glass of soda water from the tray. After listening to Claude's praise and disparagement, his expression didn't change. "Connections are connections, business is business. No matter who Gaiernie approaches, they have to pay, so naturally he'll prioritize cost-effectiveness," he answered the previous question. "Well said." When it came to the cost-effectiveness of products, Claude believed his department was second to none. He smiled confidently, but the mix of soda water and cocktail in his stomach churned, making him feel a bit nauseous. "The wind is strong outside. I'm going for a smoke." With that, Claude tossed his glass onto the tray and walked contentedly toward the cigar room. Jenny glanced at him and planned to leave as well. "Wait." She turned her head at the sound, asking curiously, "Is there anything you need?" "Change this to plain water." Zweit's thin lips touched the glass, then he suddenly put it back, his fingers waving before her eyes. Jenny's fingers on the tray edge tightened, but she still looked at him with an innocent expression and nodded slightly. "All right." Behind her, Zweit and Mr. Aernai began discussing something... Jenny left the terrace, feeling as if he had looked at her in a certain way, making her uneasy, as if everything she did was written on her face. Soon, she walked past the corridor to the edge of the cigar room. Through the crack in the door, she could see inside. Sure enough, Mr. Claude was sitting next to Mr. Baker, eating almond cookies from the table and talking with him. Mr. Baker, a senior subordinate, prided himself on his prestige and disliked flattering partners in their twenties like others did. He had come upstairs today of his own accord, no doubt forced by something important. Jenny didn't care about the specifics; she just wanted to finish her tasks. She went to the wine room again. Glancing inside, the waiter had disappeared, so she poured a glass of water herself and carried it back to the terrace. However, when she returned, the two figures that should have been there were gone. Jenny was puzzled and was about to leave when she turned and saw figures in the small hall opposite the terrace. That was the card room, its wall lamps already lit for the guests. Now, during dinner, it was empty. She slipped through the door and saw Zweit sitting at a corner teakwood card table with its lid closed. She handed him the water. He took a sip, looking very casual. "Is there anything to eat?" About to leave, Jenny frowned slightly and thought. He must not have eaten enough downstairs because of the constant interruptions. Now that he was free, there was no need to deny his needs. She considered the dishes downstairs—rich, heavy meats—and wondered what would be more suitable. She wouldn't make her boss think about such things, so she thought about what was easiest to get from the kitchen. "Cheese ham or fruit?" "Fruit." She nodded knowingly and said it would take about five minutes. In five minutes, Jenny went to the kitchen on the ground floor, fetched a silver platter with seasonal fruit, and added a napkin, black tea, and a spoon. The card room door creaked as she entered with the items. She saw him flipping through a magazine in the room. Placing the tray on the card table lid, she set the utensils. As he reached to put down the magazine, she moved aside, and her sleeve nearly knocked over a graceful but unstable gilt porcelain cup. She reached to steady it, her fingertip pressing against the back of his hand, pausing for a moment, then withdrawing as if nothing had touched. He looked up, and she lowered her head, seeming busy tidying something. Soon, she left the card room. He picked up a slice of cut apple and ate a bit, finding it acceptable. ... Jenny hid for a while in a corner of the wine room, sighing inwardly. She didn't know why, but every time she performed best, luck seemed to run short. She hadn't knocked over a glass all day, but at a critical moment, she almost did. It made it look intentional. After a while, she peered through the door crack at the card room. It was empty. The utensils were still on the table, and the clean white napkin, initially folded into a barrel shape, had been used and folded neatly on the side, still clean. Jenny went to collect the items. When she touched the napkin, she felt a metal corner. She pinched it with her fingers, lowered her head, and unfolded the napkin. She looked around cautiously, puzzled. Unfolding it, she saw a coin. ... As night faded, the clerks in the lounge collapsed onto sofas and beds, grumbling. "Hey, how much tips did you get today? Did you talk to the famous writer Mr. Aernai?" Several clerks from the distribution department who were close gathered together, laughing and comparing their luck today. Jenny sat in a corner picking at her nails, silently thinking about where to exchange the coin and what the approximate exchange rate was. A heavy gold mark had mysteriously appeared in her pocket, a twenty-mark coin engraved with the statue of the King of Prussia. It had been wrapped in the napkin, and if she hadn't noticed, she might have lost it. Jenny had bitten it; it was pure gold. The group rested in the room for a while. Midway, Donnie brought in a pile of leftover materials and gave each person a bag. Jenny also received a bag, containing leftover items from the wedding: oil-paper-wrapped food and a small bottle of wine. Donnie said the wine was valuable, and everyone was grateful. "Alright, no need to thank me. The guests haven't left yet. Let's hold on a little longer. A few of you, come with me to distribute some towels." Downstairs, a dance was in progress. Guests who weren't dancing stayed in the adjacent card room. Among them were Jenny's leaders, Mr. Baker and Mr. Alpha, who seemed quite pleased and in good spirits. Before returning to the lounge, Jenny had gone to show her face there, and Mr. Baker had praised her. With enough face time, she was now slacking off again. A few distribution department people had gone out. Jenny sat for a while, then heard a commotion downstairs that persisted for a while. She was about to get up and look out the window when a female colleague next to her asked for a handkerchief. As Jenny pulled one out, a clerk suddenly ran in. "Something terrible!" It was Denise, looking upset. The others in the room quickly asked what had happened. "...It's Mr. Claude. Just now, when he was about to leave the hotel downstairs, someone rushed out and hit him. It took two waiters to pull them apart." Jenny snapped to attention. She quickly moved to the window, pushed aside the heavy curtains, and lifted the glass pane. Clear sounds immediately came in. She stuck her head out and saw, at the street level, several waiters in formal wear holding down a man. The man was shouting, demanding that Claude Dawling return his hard-earned money. Jenny looked around. Many of the dinner guests were literati from the industry, and now they were all leaning out of windows to look downstairs. She could already imagine what the tabloids would say tomorrow. Obviously, someone else had thought of that too. Jenny watched as another carriage approached the roadside. A nimble person got out, stuffed a cloth into the shouting man's mouth, and silenced him. Mr. Claude seemed to have been taken away; she didn't know how badly he was hurt. The ground was wet with rain puddles, but no blood was visible. Then, the otherwise fine banquet was thrown into chaos by this incident. The entire room was full of Dawling Publishing Company employees, and a partner had been attacked right under their noses. Jenny followed the crowd downstairs to find out what happened. She heard someone say they would call the municipal police. Another person immediately vetoed that, insisting everyone keep their mouths shut. Jenny didn't remember how she got through the chaotic rest of the night. Donnie still had them help departing guests retrieve their coats. She worked until her eyelids were heavy, saw off almost all the guests, then grabbed her things, wrapped her coat around her, and rode back to the dormitory with Denise in a carriage. The dormitory building was brightly lit. As the distribution department people spread the news without restraint, it seemed the whole company knew about Claude. Polly, who had been woken up halfway through the night by the noise next door, opened her eyes to see the pitch-black room. Jenny had just taken off her dress and was standing there. Seeing Polly awake, she told her that the boss had been assaulted.