My Bank President Father

"Londan has been very dangerous lately, especially at night. Keep your doors locked and stay inside." Having received the message from his statuesque teacher, Wayne nodded in complete agreement. Nighttime Londan was shrouded in thick fog, which severely impaired a mage's perceptual abilities. No one could say for certain what lurked in the dark. Take the elusive urban legends, for example: even if only half of them were true, that was more than enough to prove how terrifying Londan's nights were. To look no further than Yulia: The Death Knight's steed wandered about aimlessly in the dead of night and had befriended an evil spirit hound. Two skeletal figures roaming the streets after dark was hardly a friendly sight for ordinary folk. If not for the fact that beneath their ferocious exteriors, Yulia and Abin possessed kind hearts and had no desire to cause wanton destruction, the two of them alone could have stirred up quite a commotion. Yulia and Abin might be benevolent, but the same could hardly be said for other monsters. Wayne chose to heed his teacher's advice and resolved to stay off the streets at night as much as possible. He would take the sewers instead. Wayne released the white pigeon, only to discover that this carrier bird was single-use. After taking flight, it didn't travel far; instead, it dropped straight down into a corner of the detective agency's backyard and squatted there. *You'd better stay away from that spot—you're blocking Abin's doghouse.* To ordinary people, white pigeons were a dime a dozen and hardly unusual; many public squares bred them in abundance. In the eyes of a mage, however, the sight of a white pigeon readily brought carrier birds to mind, leading to the deduction that the occupant was a mage. Not wanting to expose his identity, Wayne waved the pigeon over, tossed it a handful of corn, and let out his own white pigeon so they could play together. "Coo, coo, coo—!" x2 "Coo!" After a brief exchange, Wayne's pigeon drove off the disposable one, claimed all the corn for itself, and tilted its head to glare intently at its master. That look seemed to say: *When did you get another bird on the side?!* Wayne rolled his eyes and promised he wouldn't bring stray pigeons home on a whim in the future. Only then did the pigeon relent, lowering its head to peck at the food that belonged solely to it. For the first time, Wayne learned that carrier birds actually possessed a sense of territoriality. Now came the question: would the snowy owl drive the pigeon away? Both were diurnal types, meaning there was no such thing as day-and-night shifts between them. "That was careless!" Wayne scratched his head. Things had already reached this point, so he had no choice but to let it be. Remembering that snowy owl that looked at people through squinted slits of eyes, he secretly hoped his pigeon would knock it flat with a bump of its backside. It was only a hope, of course. Owls looked cute, but they were bona fide birds of prey. Just like fellow felines such as lions and tigers, they sat at the apex of the food chain, possessing virtually no natural predators in the wild. While the pigeon pecked at corn on the desk, Wayne began scribbling furiously. He was rushing his diary entry, eager to craft a glorious image of himself before the next victim made their entrance. Half an hour later, Wayne set down his fountain pen and glanced toward the entrance outside his office. Someone was unlocking the door. It wasn't a burglar, though. Judging by the scent, it was the magical girl who shared an affinity with tentacle monsters. Veronica put away her key, locked the front door of the detective agency behind her, and pushed open the office door. Leaning against the frame with her arms crossed, she said, "It really is you. I knew you were back." "How did you know? Did the butler tell you?" Wayne inwardly chided his own blunder. He had promised his teacher he wouldn't disclose his whereabouts, yet his cover was already blown. Still, Fra couldn't be blamed. Veronica was the eldest daughter of the Landau family; no servant would lie to their master for an outsider's sake. Wayne felt a twinge of disappointment. In the end, he was not Fra's master, and his place in the butler's heart didn't compare to Veronica's. He rose and walked toward Veronica, opening his arms to offer her a reunion embrace—which she rejected as a matter of course. Veronica stepped briskly over to the desk, sat down, and playfully flipped through Wayne's diary. As a devoted reader, she took great interest in Wayne's endless stream of lies, curious as to just how many new tricks he could pull off. "'An upright, kind-hearted young man of society...'" Veronica was thoroughly amused by the jokes in the diary. The university girl considered herself lucky to have crossed paths with societal trash, suffered losses, been deceived, and thereby gained a profound understanding of human duplicity. Her academy professors had taught such lessons and reiterated them often, but knowledge from the lecture hall was never as vivid and sharp as firsthand experience. "Where's the rest? Why does it stop here?" "I'm still writing." "Here's a pen. Write it now. You write, and I'll read." "..." Wayne shut the diary. A diary was sacred personal privacy; a peek or two was enough, but subject it to continuous public execution? Absolutely not. Veronica wore an expression of disappointment, wishing she could read a bit more about the darker facets of society. Wayne changed the subject. "You still haven't told me—how did you know I was back in Londan? Did the butler tell you?" "Fra didn't say a word. I guessed it myself." Veronica had phoned the manor to reassure Wayne and tell him to hold tight a little longer, while also mentioning that Chris's birthday was on the seventh and that she had prepared Wayne's gift on his behalf. Fra had answered the phone, explaining that Wayne was indisposed at the moment and would return the call when free. Veronica hadn't thought much of it at the time, but when she called again the following day, Wayne was still supposedly busy. She immediately realized that Fra was concealing something. Coming to the detective agency to confirm Wayne's whereabouts proved that Fra had indeed lied. Veronica eyed Wayne with suspicion, wondering what sort of ability this fellow possessed to actually subvert a Landau family butler into lying to the family's master. Could Fra have read the diary too? That shouldn't be possible—Fra was no fool. On Wayne's end, hearing Veronica's explanation brought immense relief. Fra truly lived up to being his one-of-a-kind butler; the man was loyal enough that had Veronica not been slightly too clever, the trick would have worked seamlessly. "Why did you suddenly return to Londan? Aren't you afraid of being stuffed into a cement drum by that big shot and sunk in the river?" Veronica asked curiously. She felt it necessary to remind Wayne that the influential figure wielded immense power in Londan. Mr. Landau had spent three months without making any headway, suggesting the culprit was very likely a member of the royal family. "Not anymore. Someone has already taken care of that big shot for me." "Impossible. Even he couldn't..." Refusing to believe it, Veronica frowned. "Tell me, who was it? Wayne, don't say I didn't warn you: love doesn't appear out of nowhere without cause. Watch out that they don't harbor ill intentions." "It's my teacher. She taught me magic and guided me into the halls of the arcane." "What? You have a teacher? And a female teacher at that? Is she pretty?" Veronica was astonished. "As her student, it wouldn't be proper for me to judge her looks, but she is indeed extraordinarily beautiful—near-flawlessly beautiful." Wayne didn't hold back his praise, giving Xifei a lavish compliment. "Then you'd better be careful. There's no reason for such a beautiful and powerful mage to dote on you so thoroughly. She definitely has a scheme—she might even sacrifice you on an altar one day." Veronica curled her lip. "Mr. Landau once said that the prettier a woman is, the better she is at deceiving people. You think she isn't lying to you, but maybe you're just blinded by her beauty." *What, did your last name become Zhang or something?* Wayne rolled his eyes. "Don't talk nonsense. I respect my teacher deeply." "Then what about your promise to Chris? You said you would join the Church of Moonlight." "Uh, my teacher is a devotee of the Goddess of Nature. From now on, both of us are followers of the Goddess of Nature." Wayne shrugged. Breaking his word was his fault, but Chris was magnanimous; she would surely forgive him. "Is that so..." Veronica blinked. Meeting Wayne's contemptuous gaze, she blushed and took back her earlier remarks about the female mage. There were no conspiracies or sacrifices; anyone who worshipped the Goddess of Nature was bound to be a good person. "So what should I do about my promise to Chris? I did say I would join the Church of Moonlight," Wayne said, turning the tables. "What does that have to do with me? I'm not the one who promised her..." Veronica muttered under her breath before quickly pivoting to change the subject. "What is this elegant lady's name? If she managed something even Mr. Landau couldn't do, she must be quite famous. Maybe I even know her." "That isn't convenient to disclose. My teacher has plenty of troubles on her hands right now, so she forbade me from telling anyone I'm her student. As you can see, I've been very obedient—cooped up inside without going anywhere, not even making phone calls to you all." "..." Hearing this, Veronica pressed no further, though she couldn't help feeling a little annoyed. Despite her radiant popularity at the academy, where countless younger girls idolized her as a star senior, she actually had very few friends. Counting on one hand, there was only her roommate Villy and Chris from the graduating class above hers. Veronica treated others with polite humility, never forgetting her aristocratic grace. Her manners made her seem easy to approach, but anyone who spoke with her for long would realize that she was far from warm. Her temperament leaned toward distant, stubborn, and somewhat scheming; she preferred solitude. Over time, Veronica developed an aura that kept people at arm's length. She could be the academy's idol, but never a confidante to younger students. Her personality had formed as a result of her family: her parents were in a cold war, living separately, and her mother had moved away to Paris in Frank. Were it not for the dragon-blooded girl being slightly tougher than her peers, she would have fallen victim to school bullying long ago. Of course, it was also possible that certain classmates had entertained such notions, only to be threatened with cement drums before they could even act. Put simply, in the entire women's academy, only Villy and Chris could pierce her aura of indifference. Villy was even more remarkable—not only could she break the aura, but she could also tussle with Veronica until they were rolling on the floor in a heap. A while ago, Veronica had reluctantly categorized Wayne as a friend, quite pleased to see her social circle expand. Little did she expect that Wayne would downgrade her friend ranking, having inserted an unexpected teacher above her. *Hmph, what's so great about that? Your rank on my side has been downgraded too!* "Right, since you're back, I'll bring your owl over tonight." "So soon? Why not look after it a bit longer?" "It doesn't get along with Monica. They've nearly gotten into fights multiple times," Veronica refused. Veronica's household had a black cat named Monica, who was Mr. Landau's pet. Butler Megan had always taken care of it; Mr. Landau was only responsible for petting the cat and had never scooped a litter box, not even once. The snowy owl and the black cat were both felines, and because their coats were polar opposites, they got along terribly. Even when separated into different villas, the two cats would sneak off to pick fights with each other; if this continued, there would be a feline fatality sooner or later. "All right. I won't be going out much lately anyway, so it'll be good to bond with it." Wayne inwardly lamented the misfortune—yet another mouth to feed in the house. Wayne's residence wasn't the Landau estate. There were no servants to clean the litter box, nor were there mouse fries or mouse chips readily available for snacking. He hoped the snowy owl would mature quickly and learn to provide for itself through its own hard work. "One more thing: have you considered relocating the detective agency somewhere else?" Veronica asked. "Relocating somewhere else..." Wayne gave the matter serious thought before answering, "I have thought about it. The agency's location is too remote, so I can't land big commissions. But moving to an affluent neighborhood isn't something I can..." "I'll pay for it." Veronica cut him off directly. Wayne probably didn't know that not long ago, the agency had faced a crisis when the landlord came knocking for rent, and it was she who had paid to settle the matter. Two days later, and Wayne's home would have vanished entirely. "Then I have no problem with it. Wherever you say, we'll move there." Wayne raised both hands in favor. Living off a benefactor brought him zero shame—there was no need to feel embarrassed when some people literally titled their school essays 'My Bank President Father.' "I'll have someone scout a location. When the time comes, you can move right in. Just remember to reserve an assistant position for me." "Uh, you're serious?" "Yes." Veronica nodded. Her mother had returned home, but before long, she was quarreling with Mr. Landau again. The moment the two met, they spoke with barbed sarcasm, bearing no resemblance to proper parents. It wore on her nerves, and she wanted a place to find some peace and quiet. The Wayne Detective Agency was quite nice; she could read the latest diary updates whenever she pleased. The only drawback was the distance, which wasted a lot of time on each round trip. If the agency moved, that trouble would disappear. Veronica took her leave, locking the front door of the agency from the outside. Before departing, she promised to bring the owl over as soon as possible. Wayne also asked her to keep the news quiet, making sure not to let Villy and Chris know he was back. Especially Villy—otherwise, the very next day, homosexuals would be gathered at his doorstep, playing boulder-smashing-on-chests. "Fine, but you'd better give Chris an explanation. For your tutoring sessions, she's stayed up late every night compiling teaching materials, and she's already written all the way up to the fourth-year curriculum." Veronica held out her hand to demonstrate—a stack roughly that thick. Wayne felt thoroughly sheepish. Chris had worn herself out trying to recruit him into the Church of Moonlight, only for him to turn around and throw himself into the embrace of the Goddess of Nature. In a sense, wasn't this a form of cuckoldry? Wayne disliked being indebted to others. After thinking it over, he resolved to attend those one-on-one tutoring sessions after all. Failing to join the Church of Moonlight was already breaking his word once; if he squandered the materials Chris had painstakingly prepared, wouldn't he be lower than a beast? He would attend—no matter what, he had to attend. After seeing Veronica off, Wayne resumed working on his diary while awaiting word from Abo. The sooner he had his revenge, the sooner he could report for duty. Contracting a Spirit of Vengeance granted him their abilities. Abin had provided Wayne with an enhanced sense of smell and supernatural perception; the former still fell within biological bounds, but the latter somewhat exceeded the limits of animal instinct. Wayne suspected it had something to do with the Book of Greed, though he couldn't rule out the possibility that Abin was an exceptional case. Out of so many pets that died in the shelter, only Abin had turned into a vengeful wraith, which proved he was unique. Abo was unique as well; a certain special bloodline ran through his veins, granting Wayne the skills of marksmanship and super-vision. Super-vision allowed Wayne to see much farther and discern minute details that normally required specialized instruments, letting his eyes switch freely between a telescope and a microscope. At the same time, he could perceive a broader spectrum of colors. With the addition of magical enhancement, his super-vision could be amplified even further. Marksmanship was easy to understand. As a police inspector, Abo was naturally proficient with a handgun, which was entirely reasonable and logical; super-vision, on the other hand, was rather difficult to explain. "Hopefully next time I draw a body of steel..."