Chapter 361

The evaluation didn't drag on.

Within the first thirty minutes, participants began submitting their answer sheets.

The venue slowly emptied, but Evelyn Carter remained at her station, carefully composing her responses.

Identifying the ingredients was effortless—she could have listed them in seconds.

What intrigued her was how nearly identical the two fragrances were. Not just in hue, but in their layered notes as well.

Their strengths and flaws mirrored each other so closely it gave her pause.

Around her, competitors shifted nervously as others finished quickly. After brief hesitation, they too completed their papers.

Only a handful remained when the examiner announced, "Ten minutes remaining. Unsubmitted answers will be disqualified."

The stragglers hurried to finish.

Evelyn inhaled the scent one last time. A knowing smile curved her lips as she finalized her notes and turned them in.

Exiting the hall, she found the early finishers gathered in a waiting area.

Organizers had instructed everyone to remain for immediate results.

With the test concluded, the atmosphere grew lively. Days of competition had forged familiarity among participants, and cheerful chatter filled the room.

"Mr. Whitaker's formulation was masterful," one woman gushed. "That complexity is beyond most perfumers. It's groundbreaking—this will dominate the international market this year!"

Several nodded agreement, but a scoff cut through the admiration. "Please. You actually believe Harrison Whitaker created that? Bottle labels can lie. This is clearly a test to spot the bootlickers."

The critic, a sharp-featured man, smirked at the woman. "If you couldn't detect the inconsistencies, maybe stick to baking. Perfumery requires actual skill."

Her cheeks flushed crimson. "I identified every floral variant and specially treated essential oil in that composition. Question my expertise again, and remember—your mother was a woman too."

The debate escalated into personal jabs, splitting the group into factions.

One side staunchly defended Mr. Whitaker's unparalleled artistry.

The other insisted the organizers had planted his name to mislead and test their discernment.

As voices rose toward confrontation, Evelyn retreated to a quiet corner.

"You don't share either perspective?"

The low voice startled her. Turning, she found a man studying her with unusual intensity. His striking features—high cheekbones, a blade-straight nose—marked him as distinct from the crowd.

Having paid little attention to fellow competitors, Evelyn had no recollection of him. Yet his presence here confirmed his status.

Like her, he seemed detached from the brewing conflict.

"I didn't voice an opinion," she deflected.

His gaze sharpened. "Your expression did. You think they're both wrong."

Evelyn's fingers brushed her own cheek. "You can read that?"