One Face in Public, Another in Private, and Several Houses in the Suburbs

"Who is this big shot?" "I don't know!" Feeling the hard barrel press against the back of his head once more, the man in black nearly burst into tears. "I really don't know! The boss didn't tell us anything, and it's not like I'm supposed to know anyway. I barely make enough to get by each month—I don't have the clearance to know that much!" Logical and well-argued. Wayne had no rebuttal. He made a few more threats, but seeing that there was truly no more intelligence to be extracted, he gripped his revolver and brought it down hard on the man's head, knocking him out cold. It was his first time knocking someone unconscious, so his control over his strength was naturally imperfect. He hoped the guy would be all right. Wayne kicked the other man awake and ran him through the exact same interrogation, receiving essentially the same information. A powerful figure had set his sights on him—someone with immense influence in Londan. If not an outright ruler who held the sky in one hand, he was certainly someone whom both the underworld and the establishment groveled before. In other words, it wasn't just gangsters keeping tabs on him; even the police were watching him. Wayne frowned deeply. This sudden, high-tier hammer coming down out of nowhere was completely absurd! According to the confessions of the two thugs, a big shot of that caliber wasn't someone you could just offend on a whim. They existed in entirely different worlds. He didn't even have the credentials to offend the man; he wouldn't even know whose doorstep to grovel on. *Could it be the pet shelter from before? Was that big shot a shareholder, and when I was drumming up publicity, I slipped up at the newspaper and exposed myself, so now he wants payback?* Wayne turned it over in his mind and felt that this had to be it. In a society overrun by material greed, kind and righteous young men were always suppressed by powerful factions. Of course, there was another possibility: he was taking the blame for the original Wayne. The original Wayne might have crossed a high-ranking figure—perhaps by sleeping with his wife, mistress, girlfriend, darling, or sweetheart—and then pulled up his pants, trembled, and vanished into thin air, leaving Wayne behind to pay the debt. *Damn it, what was the rush? The least you could have done was leave behind a few flashback clues!* Looking at the two unconscious men on the ground, Wayne thought the situation was quite thorny. He had agreed to keep a low profile and develop slowly, only to suddenly stumble into this sort of massive trouble... The crucial issue was that he had no idea why he had landed in hot water in the first place, leaving him at a total loss for where to begin unraveling it. Fighting fire with fire was out of the question. The snowball would only roll bigger and bigger, which directly conflicted with his current strategic goal of laying low. Matters of the underworld were best settled through underworld channels: his only option was to find someone of stature to step forward, host a banquet, and make amends. *Sleeping with your wife was wrong of me, but believe me, she was screaming your name the entire time!* Wayne nodded to himself, finding the logic sound. Fighting and killing was far too violent. Since that big shot had reached his current position, he surely understood the virtue of peace. First, however, the person speaking on his behalf could not be a nobody. *Who should I ask...* Veronica's figure floated into Wayne's mind. The young lady was a Londan native and extraordinarily wealthy; her father's social standing was bound to be impressive. Even if his future father-in-law couldn't match this big shot, he certainly had to know fellow luminaries who could stand on equal footing with the man. *This could work!* Wayne gave himself a silent thumbs-up, but a fresh problem immediately presented itself: Why on earth would his future father-in-law stick his neck out for him? Why would he owe someone a favor just to protect a wild boar that had rooted up his precious cabbage? Putting himself in the man's shoes, Wayne realized this path wouldn't work. Yet apart from Veronica's father, he couldn't think of any other prospective father-in-law. Dick? Come on. The gay meathead would laugh himself to death! After a moment of contemplation, Wayne put away both revolvers, picked up the birdcage and the tote bag, and headed back toward Strength and Faith Fitness Center. He had no way of contacting Veronica directly for the moment, so he could only pass a message through Villy, hoping Veronica would come to the detective agency to meet him as soon as possible. If his future father-in-law was unwilling to step in, that was fine. Helping him would be a favor, and refusing would be within his rights; simply finding out how he had offended that big shot would be plenty of reason to be grateful. ... Back at the gym. The trainers were extremely wary of Wayne's sudden return. They didn't kick him out directly, but they all kept their mouths shut, grunting as they pumped iron while keeping their gazes locked dead onto him. *Watch yourself, kid. We've got our eyes on you!* x N Head Coach Dick stepped forward, lifted the curtain on the birdcage, and stared at the snowy owl for a good while before giving Wayne a string of cold sneers. Wayne felt completely uncomfortable. Previously, Dick's attitude toward him had been one of casual dismissal; though there had been warnings and threats, the man clearly hadn't taken him seriously. Now it was different. This was a deep, genuine wariness and dread! Villy showed up in the nick of time and brought Wayne into the office. After hearing the situation, she tilted her head. "Both the law and the underworld are investigating you? Speak up—what kind of monstrous crime did you commit? Are you the culprit behind the serial disappearances of young girls?" "Cut it out. I used to shiver just walking down the street at night. How could I have that kind of nerve?" Wayne rolled his eyes. "Hiss—you didn't even deny having the thought!" Villy's eyes widened, her hands flying to her chest so fast that her blouse deformed under the pressure. *That's right, I have the thought. Once I've got the skills, the first thing I'll do is tie you up and lock you in the detective agency's basement!* Wayne gave an exasperated huff and told Villy to stop joking around and help him contact Veronica right away. He didn't want to waste too much energy on this mess; he was itching to learn magic! Villy tilted her head. "Actually, Dick... Never mind, let's just go with Veronica. Her father has a vast network of connections. As long as Veronica is willing to ask, he can sort this out for you in no time." "Then I'll leave the trouble to you." "It is a bit troublesome. Veronica has a terrible relationship with her father..." Villy dialed Veronica's number, but nobody answered. In this era, there were only landlines and no mobile phones, so failing to reach someone by phone was common. She switched to sending a letter via carrier owl, asking Veronica to go find Wayne at the detective agency as soon as possible. Wayne thanked her once more, stepped outside, hailed a cab, and headed straight for the detective agency on Berick Street in the East District. He took the scenic route yet again! Money stiffened a hero's spine, and coin gave a man his mettle. That damned cabbie squeezed out the last ounce of Wayne's courage and vitality, firmly cementing the potato's indispensable position on Wayne's dinner table. Wayne was deeply annoyed, but without navigation systems in this era, he had no choice but to endure it even though he knew the driver was being dishonest. *Cabbie: This is an honest rate, and I didn't take any detour! If you don't like it, buy your own car and let fuel prices rob you blind!* Arriving at the entrance of the detective agency, Wayne noticed something amiss the moment his fingers brushed the doorknob. There was someone inside. The lockpicking technique had been remarkably deft, as if the person had a spare key to the agency. He gave a sniff. A fragrance mingling pomade, milky sweetness, chocolate, and the unique scent of a young woman drifted into his senses, and Wayne finally breathed a sigh of relief. Not an intruder—it was Veronica. She really did have a spare key. "You got here fast. I really did get taken for a ride." Veronica was sitting behind the desk, catching up on his diary. Hearing Wayne's voice, she didn't even look up. "Villy told me you provoked an influential figure, and they've already sent people to investigate you." "It's more than an investigation. I just ran into two gangsters from the local Black Snake Gang in the East District. They tailed me all the way to the North District. If I hadn't been cautious enough, they probably would have tied me up by now." Wayne attempted to play the victim to win her sympathy. The effect was middling; Veronica was chuckling at the diary. That was the thing about diaries. What self-respecting person kept a diary? Who put their true thoughts in a diary? Could anything written down truly be called one's honest inner thoughts? Shameless! Consequently, a diary could only fool strangers. To a beautiful young woman like Veronica who knew him inside and out, the diary was nothing more than a joke book. Resigned, Wayne pulled out the two revolvers, emphasizing how dangerous the situation had been and showing off his swollen knuckles, claiming they still throbbed with pain. "It was that serious?!" Seeing the two guns, Veronica asked in surprise, "East District gangsters went so far as to intrude into the North District just to capture you, and they even brought guns? That's not their usual style. Exactly who did you offend?" "If I knew, I wouldn't have asked for your help." Wayne shrugged and stated his purpose plainly. "I heard your father is very capable and knows plenty of powerful figures, so I wanted to ask a favor. Could you find out what I actually did to upset them?" Veronica furrowed her brows deeply. After a long pause, she said, "Fine. But you'll owe me a favor. In the future, no matter what I ask, you have to agree unconditionally." Wayne nodded and set down the tote bag and birdcage. Veronica walked out to find a public telephone booth and dialed her home. A red telephone booth, its dim yellow light flickering through the mist. Then she dialed another number. And another. There was no helping it; her father was like that. One face in public, another in private, and several houses in the suburbs. Without making multiple calls, she had no hope of tracking him down. After several attempts, Veronica finally got through to her father—Auston Landau. Her voice was cold, as if speaking to a complete stranger. Standing outside the booth, Wayne noticed the grim expression on Veronica's face and couldn't help shaking his head. Every family had its own cross to bear. Villy had it rough, and Veronica didn't have it easy either. He wondered what Chris's situation was. He would have to ask in a few days during their one-on-one tutoring sessions. If she was also a sad soul, he wouldn't mind lending his broad, warm shoulder for the college girl to lean on for a night while she wiped away her tears. "I understand. I'm fine, thank you for your concern." A few minutes later, Veronica hung up the phone and walked out of the booth with an irritated face. Wayne followed behind her, tactfully holding his tongue. As tempting as it was, trying to flirt or raise affection points at a time like this would just make him a scumbag. Veronica stepped into the office, picked up the diary, and began flipping through it again. Before long, she was amused, her foul mood improving slightly. She said to Wayne, "I asked. You really did offend a formidable big shot." "Who is it?" Wayne asked eagerly. "Mr. Landau didn't say. He said there's no need for you to know the person's identity, because knowing or not won't change that big shot's mind. If he said he's going to investigate you, he will definitely stuff you into a cement barrel and sink you in the river." At this point, a hint of confusion surfaced on Veronica's face as well. From what she knew, her derelict father held immense sway in Londan and kept several members of parliament as his lapdogs. For even him to refuse to disclose the big shot's name... Could Wayne have offended the Queen? Impossible. How could he have that kind of capability! "Then..." "Mr. Landau said he will step forward to settle this matter. But in return, you owe him a favor. When the opportunity arises, he'll call it in." "No problem." Wayne nodded readily. Owing his future father-in-law a few favors didn't matter in the slightest; once they became family, he wouldn't have to pay them back anyway. Freeloading felt amazing! "Mr. Landau is truly remarkable!" "Hmph, he just has a bit of filthy lucre. His heart turned black just to make money." "Pardon my curiosity, but what does Mr. Landau do for a living?" "He runs banks." "..."