Kevin wasn't intentionally belittling Julian; it was just the reality. To such high-level figures, Julian was a nobody. Regardless of his achievents, until he beca a tycoon in this city, he was nowhere near that level. Let alone establishing a relationship with giants like the mayor or council mbers.
Julian didn't shy away from the issue, revealing the truth directly. "Wood probably paid a price and brought Gador to deal with . You know, while I have so people working for , I'm far from matching soone like Gador, who has been dominating East City for so many years. I need soone at that level of power to exert pressure on Gador and force him to change his plans."
Kevin put down the docunts and luggage he was sorting and sat down across from Julian with an exaggerated, amused expression. "My God, you really aren't afraid of death. Gador rarely engages in killing anymore; he's been busy cleaning up his image."
After teasing Julian, Kevin grew serious, thinking for a mont before speaking. "I can help you get in touch with the mayor's… wife. But as for how to leverage that to get to the mayor, I can't help. You'll have to figure that out yourself."
Julian didn't press Kevin to stay. He had discussed with Kevin earlier, hoping Kevin would stay and help, but Kevin had refused. His ambitions lay in the tempting allure of the big city, not this small town. Money alone wouldn't convince Kevin to stay. Though Julian was disappointed, there was nothing he could do to keep this brilliant rising star, smart enough to alter legal outcos, from leaving.
The two had made what seed like a childish promise: if one day Julian entered the heart of the Empire as a victor, Kevin would imdiately quit all his jobs to serve him. Of course, Julian would have to offer a salary befitting his status.
"The mayor's wife is nad Vivian, a classic Ordinian high-society woman. She has impeccable taste and style. Her favorite activities are organizing flower arrangents or tea parties with won of similar status."
"Vivian was the key reason the mayor erged from seven candidates to beco the mayor of Ternell city. When it cos to her requests and suggestions, the mayor often chooses to support and approve them."
"If you can win over that woman, any trouble you have will no longer be trouble!"
Kevin rummaged through his cardholder for a while before pulling out a card and handing it to Julian. "This is the card of the curator of Delier Art Museum. Say Kevin referred you, and he'll et with you. As for the rest, I can't do much more to help, as you know!"
Julian accepted the card with sincere thanks, knowing that his relationship with Kevin ultimately hinged on the thousand dollars and the favor of helping Kevin take down Camille. The two could be considered friends, discussing so "deeper" topics, but their friendship hadn't reached a point where Kevin would use his connections to solve Julian's problems.
Many say that big figures lack humanity, but it's not that they lack compassion; rather, those saying this aren't qualified enough for these big figures to show compassion. Until Julian proved himself equal to Kevin in status and power, deepening their friendship was just wishful thinking.
After leaving Kevin's place, Julian imdiately headed to Delier Art Museum on 8th Street, holding the card.
Although Ternell is a small city, it has all the essentials because, no matter how small, a city still has its big figures. How do you distinguish yourself from those who emit the stench of the ordinary? High art is clearly the simplest and most direct way! To cater to the city's elites and legally extract money from their pockets, Delier Art Museum was born.
Every Monday and Friday, the mayor's wife, Vivian, hosts a salon party for elite won, usually centered around flower arranging or other trendy activities.
This was Julian's only chance!
The curator of the Delier Art Museum, as his na suggests, was Delier himself—a man with an unmistakable Ordinian arrogance. Even though he exuded a certain artistic aura, it couldn't hide the disdain in his eyes when he looked at Julian.
It was the kind of contempt a gentleman wearing polished boots in a grand hall might feel, looking down at a muddy-footed country boy leaving dirty footprints on the pristine floor.
Delier was a very "artistic" man. He wore a shiny purple, androgynous suit with silver threads outlining the edges of the white collar—probably pure silver, judging by the way it glead under the light.
His white crocodile-skin shoes set him apart from the rest; people generally preferred boots over shoes because, in a society where roads were still problematic, shoes made it far too easy for dirt to sneak in and soil one's socks.
His hair was slicked back like Wood's, but it appeared softer, not stiff. Seven parts of his hair curled toward the right, while the remaining three parts were brushed back. His pale, thin face was even adorned with light makeup. If it weren't for the "Mr." at the end of his na on the business card, Julian would have thought Delier was a rather masculine woman.
Delier took Julian's card and glanced at it. Like many artistic types, Delier's business card had an artistic flair. His na was handwritten, and Julian had to consult soone just to recognize the flourished strokes as letters. Delier slipped the card into his pocket, crossing one arm over his chest while the other rested on it, holding a thin white cigarette between two fingers.
"So, you're friends with that scoundrel Kevin? Then you must be no good either," Delier said in a high-pitched voice, this ti making no effort to hide the hint of revulsion in his gaze, as if Julian were not a person but a pile of trash. Delier and Kevin didn't have the smoothest relationship. In fact, they had t when soone hired Kevin to sue the Delier Art Museum.
It was during that case, which was settled out of court for a thousand dollars after Kevin's persuasion, that the two got acquainted. read-on-MVLeMpYr
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