Han Serin glanced around the room as a matter of course.

It was an occupational hazard, and a habit.

It had been that way when she worked at Galdman Sachs, and it was the same after she moved to Northbridge.

Whatever event she went to, she checked out the people before the room.

Who had come. Who they were talking to. Who had people crowding around them, and who, by contrast, nobody walked up to first.

That was the most objective gauge of a party's real caliber.

She hadn't gone more than a few steps before her expression changed.

That man…….

From the taxi, she'd watched him step out of a car. That same financier was inside now, chatting with other people.

Next to him she saw another familiar face.

Anyone who'd worked on Wall Street for even a few years would know every one of them on sight. And there weren't just one or two of them.

Han Serin's eyes swept the room a little faster.

Private equity. Big law firms. Real estate investment firms. She spotted media people too.

But something was strange. People from completely different industries had gathered in one room, and yet the mix didn't feel awkward.

Who picked the guests?

Invite the wrong people, and a gathering like this splits up fast.

Financiers huddle with financiers, and the real estate people talk among themselves.

The fashion and media crowd clump off to one side and do their own thing, of course.

Here, though, the lines between them were so blurred you couldn't tell where they were.

A few steps away, a fund manager was laughing with someone from the fashion business. Behind them, a real estate investor and what looked like a reporter leaned on the same table, sipping their drinks.

These people hadn't just been invited.

They'd been chosen and mixed. Only then did Han Serin take a glass of champagne.

"Thank you."

She took a sip and looked around again. Then her eyes stopped on one spot.

"……!!" A middle-aged man smiling in the middle of a crowd. Michael Herrington!

Honestly, she'd…