Strongest Among the Heavens
Chapter 476: The Truly Powerful

Chapter 476: The Truly Powerful

A cutthroat voice and an imposing posture despite her humble height.

Madame Devereaux was woman of impressive aura, dressed in a gown of blood-red silk, her mask a delicate creation of black lace and gold. She carried herself with the poise of someone who had long since learned to command a room without speaking a word. It was simple enough to read her thoughts, wants, expectations, and emotions. The woman had the same silky hair as Pauline, although longer, silkier, and chestnut rather than black.

For the first time that evening, Pauline faltered. Her fingers brushed against Kazi’s.

Kazi did not react outwardly. He wanted to, suppressing his instinct to yank himself away. The idea of casual touch was not one he entertained, but they were both wearing gloves. A layer of separation existed. That was enough for now. The mission. The necessity to be disguised, to be in-character. That was more important than his ethics.

Madame Devereaux’s gaze flicked between them, assessing.

"Well," Madame Devereaux said smoothly, a smile that did not reach her eyes forming beneath her mask. "It seems I finally have the pleasure of meeting Pavvo in person."

Kazi inclined his head slightly. Time to be every bit the eccentric noble he had crafted himself to be. "The pleasure is all mine, Madame, although we have met before."

"We met when you were but a child. What I see before me is a man."

Pauline, fingertips touching and never committing to his hand, remained silent.

The moment stretched, tension thick beneath the polished elegance of the ballroom. Kazi, ever the observer, noted the minute details—how Madame Devereaux’s fingers twitched slightly against her champagne glass, how Pauline’s faux smile tightened just a fraction more, and how the butler stood a few feet behind them, ever the loyal shadow to the Madame.

No, not a butler...

Kazi froze up. ’How did I...?’

It was impossible. It should have been impossible. Kazi should have seen him. He must have concealed his presence up until now. Everybody else was starting to note him too.

"Is that really him...?"

"No question. Look at those badges."

"Broke the record, didn’t he?"

"Scary..."

"Is he not to be stationed in Afghanistan? Why is he here?"

"For the president’s sake, no doubt."

The butler behind Pauline’s mother was no butler at all. It was the strongest man in the world, the one touched by God. It was Booker Davis Jr. The greatest soldier on the planet, in his prime and silently acting as an attack dog for these powerful men and women.

They made the briefest second of eye contact. Kazi flicked back to Pauline’s mother. Kazi saw it though, the fractional dilation in his pupils and the twitch in his nose. Booker was saying, "You smell familiar."

’Haah...this man is like a hound. He can smell you from a mile away.’

Not good, not good at all. Kazi’s saving grace was the ballroom and the mingling opulent perfumes, on top of the strange perfumes Pavvo was renowned for and that Kazi applied profusely. Even with all those factors, Booker knew something was up. His nose was slowly peeling through all the layers.

Two minutes. No, one minute and Booker was going to sniff him out unless he diverted his attention.

"You don’t like me," Kazi stated plainly to the madame.

"..."

"What? Come on, let’s talk. Who cares if others are watching?"

Madame Devereaux was unamused. She did not want this to be so public. "You have no manners—like that ridiculous suit you wear."

It stretched Pavvo’s personality just a bit. Would he wear a suit with a hoodie at a ball where costumes were insisted and the president was there? It was fifty-fifty. He had to balance being formal and informal in order to be taken seriously.

Kazi unglued his hand from Pauline’s and did a theatrical bow. "I do my best, madame."

"...I anticipated this would happen so I adjusted your invitation so that you would come an hour earlier," Madame Devereaux stated. "You people came late anyway."

"Apologies."

That was because Kazi was aware of her plan.

"Boorish, foolish, and alone. I only permissioned you and my daughter because she too is the same and I reasoned our circles should not drift apart." Madame Devereaux looked him up and down. Her face became one of disgust. "I have nothing more to say to you. The president will arrive in five minutes and—"

"Don’t worry, we’ll see ourselves out. I didn’t realize we are THAT unwanted." Kazi flashed a smile at Pauline. "Why stay, right?"

"...right."

Aside from the handholding, Pauline’s eye contact constantly strayed. She did not like her mother. She was biting her tongue like her life depended on it. If there was another aspect that differentiated mother and daughter, it was physique. Pauline was obviously less...shaped. Thinner from her eating disorder. The comparisons, the words, the memories—Pauline wanted to hold his hand because of the sudden weight of expectations and unwanted memories.

"Pauline," her mother called out, "have you been eating?"

Pauline’s eyes dimmed as she met her mother’s gaze. "Yes."

"No, you have not. Anyone can see." Madame Devereaux narrowed her eyes and pointed her wine glass for Booker Davis Jr to take. "You can stop."

"What...?"

"You’ve long since gotten my attention. You can stop with this...disorder nonsense. Pierre has been telling me all about it."

"Has...he...?"

"I don’t understand it: why do you do that — why do you eat all that food when you know you’re just going to throw it all up anyway? It is disgusting."

Kazi didn’t like the nobility. He probably never would. The hate that simmered in his heart was too strong a fire.

He also hated mothers and fathers who acted this way. This complete disregard for their children. Kazi never truly believed in feeling empathy for people obscenely wealthy—until tonight.

An ache seized his heart and he ended up opening his mouth.

"You really are who I thought you were," Kazi said. "I’m so glad."

"Excuse me?"

"I’m saying you’re a delightful piece of golden shit is all." Kazi’s eyes flicked. Some gasps were heard in the background. Luckily, it was not because of his remark. "Looks Mr. President is here early. I’ll leave you to it."

Both Booker and Madame Devereaux turned their attention over. The pressure and the weight of anonymity returned with the country leader’s arrival. The president of France was a beacon of light that cast a shadow on everyone else, whether they be of new or old money. Everyone here was the pillar that he stood upon.

"Hello, everyone. Yes, good to see you."

A classic wave and smile from the president with everybody parting like the sea. The president’s mask occupied only the top half of his face. Even then, it was easy to identify him. Guards shuffled inside, some obvious, others discreet.

Kazi smiled. ’This is it.’

The moment when security was most vulnerable was the moment they were still evaluating the area. Eye contact was made. In a matter of seconds, by observing the micro-expressions and mouth-covered whispers, Kazi found every single planted secret agent. This was the president. Security was suitably advanced. He counted five agents pretending to be elites here. Four more entered with five outwardly presenting themselves as such.

He glanced at Pauline. He thought about comforting her. For some reason, despite how stupid it sounded, he wanted to.

Too late. His body moved faster than his heart.

In the minute where the president shook hands and greeted everyone, in the minute that everybody’s attention was averted, Kazi already pickpocketed twenty-seven people. It wasn’t like they carried too much on them. Expensive pockets, watches, cigarettes, that sort. He picked and then he returned. Nobody noticed.

Soon, there were two sides of the room with the president in the middle making a speech. Kazi did not listen. He took tiny steps and pretended to be searching for wine. He pickpocketed and he pickpocketed until...

’Ah, look at that. Meth. Pavvo’s type.’

Out slipped zip-locked bag of meth from a young brown-haired man. Kazi had never seen this youth. Judging by his close proximity to an old face he did recognize and their similar clothes, he instantly figured out which family this belonged to. The Derlanger house: they ran and held stock in a majority of the banks in France.

If the young son was being dealt the meth then...

Kazi’s photographic memory kicked in his and he deduced the rest with the information supplied. He remembered the specific Middle Eastern people the young man and his father talked to. It was but a glance but he remembered. Those Middle Eastern men came more than just Qatar. The likeliest possibility? They were all bankers. Following that logic, it all became clear to Kazi.

’So that’s how he hid his finances. That’s how Pavvo managed to spread his formula so far. Bankers from all over the world were helping him out.’ He smirked. ’And all it took was one idiotic noble son to tell it all. Thank you.’