Chapter 905
The oriole is behind
Chapter 905 The oriole is behind
"Communication pea?" Fontana frowned. "You're not mistaken?"
"I didn't see wrong!" the little girl shouted indignantly. "My eyesight is perfect!"
Fontana remained silent for a moment, and when he raised his eyes again, his expression still carried an unmistakable sense of protectiveness:
"Perhaps Stern has some secrets that are unknown to others, which I, as a professor, cannot delve into, nor may I fully understand. But that absolutely does not mean I can tolerate others 'taking care' of my students in this way!"
"You're not Aurors, nor are you from the Congressional Security Service, are you? You might not even be American wizards... So who exactly are you? What are you trying to do by watching Stern?"
Just as most wizards in Britain graduate from Hogwarts, most wizards in America also enter Ephamony at the age of eleven.
As the principal of Ifamoni, even if Fontana didn't remember every student's name, he would always have some impression of what they looked like.
So he immediately recognized that these two were not students from his school.
Wid and Antoine exchanged a glance, then Antoine shrugged and wiped his face.
When he looked up again, he had returned to his original appearance and said with a smile, "Hello, Mr. Fontana."
Fontana was stunned.
“You are…” he asked hesitantly, “Professor Antoine Moreau from Salem?”
They had met at Hogwarts, but hadn't spoken much.
Salem College originated as an association established by persecuted witches during the witch hunts to protect other witches, and later developed into a school. Initially, they only admitted girls, and only in the last decade or so have they begun admitting male students.
Most wizards in the United States graduated from Ephamoni, while the remaining small number naturally graduated from Salem.
Upon seeing Antoine, Fontana was finally less tense, but he was plunged into deeper confusion and asked:
"So... what exactly happened? Can someone explain it to me?"
Antoine tilted his head and asked softly, "Mr. Fontana, do you really know Rolando Stern? Do you know what he's doing now?"
“It seems you have some information I don’t know.” Fontana pulled out a chair and sat down, saying seriously, “Please explain in detail and see if you can convince me not to hinder your actions!”
Antoine sighed and asked, "Then let me ask you something first: do you know anything about the Purifiers... and Prometheus?"
……
While the two men were talking, Wade, like an ordinary, taciturn entourage member, silently observed the scene outside the window without saying a word.
Suddenly, the sound of a chair being pulled out came from beside him—Fontana’s daughter sat down in the empty seat next to Wade, swinging her legs and beckoning to Wade with her little hand, signaling him to come closer.
Wade leaned down and asked her, "What's wrong, young lady?"
With childlike certainty, the little girl said, "That ice cream vendor was a bad person, wasn't he?"
Wade was taken aback and asked, "How did you know?"
The little girl looked at her father with a disappointed expression, sighed like an adult, and said helplessly:
“I saw it right away! My dad is such a fool, he’s so easily fooled! That person’s smile was fake, and his eyes were scary, but he didn’t even notice.”
Wade laughed: "Your observation is very sharp. He is indeed not as simple as he seems on the surface."
The little girl immediately cheered upon receiving affirmation.
Her young heart couldn't hold too many worries; the joy immediately overshadowed the unpleasantness Stern had just caused her.
The little girl took a rabbit puppet that she could hold in one hand from her backpack and started playing with it, using the unused tableware on the table as her imaginary forest. "Chirp, charge—"
The rabbit puppet plunged headfirst into the teacup.
"Chirp, chirp, I picked some radishes...it's for tonight's dinner..."
The rabbit puppet bit the handle of the teaspoon and shook it vigorously.
These puppets sold to children are the most mentally challenged type. They are similar to real rabbits, except that they know who their owner is and do not need the owner's care.
Seeing that Wade's gaze fell on his pet, the little girl enthusiastically introduced, "This is my best friend, Panpan. It's always there for me when I'm sad."
After she finished speaking, she pouted again and lowered her head sadly.
"But it's not as smart as Maria's Mint... Dad won't buy me a better magic puppet pet."
"Why?" Wade asked in a low voice, puzzled.
Principal Fontana seemed to dote on his daughter and didn't seem like a stingy person.
"Because Dad said..."
The little girl hung her head and said sullenly, "The smarter the puppet pet, the less trustworthy it is. Because if you can't see its brain, it means that its brain may be under someone else's control."
Wade was taken aback and couldn't help but look up at Fontana across from him.
Fontana was angry and worried about the truth she had heard, but seeing that the black-haired young man was willing to patiently play with her daughter so that she wouldn't have to hear such a cruel reality, she managed to put on a gentle smile.
His smile gave no indication that he would utter such cold and suspicious words.
Or perhaps... someone else conveyed a similar idea to him?
Wade smiled and lowered his eyes.
……
Stern had no idea how many pairs of eyes were staring at him in the coffee shop.
However, he did not stay in one place for long. After quietly gathering opinions about the Stonefield family from those around him, and seeing that no one was coming or going from the mansion, Stern drove his ice cream truck, clanging and clattering, to the next place.
The Stonefield family is a large and multi-generational family with hundreds of members involved in various industries, so naturally they don't have just one residence.
Stern was very patient.
The Magic Congress has been making frequent moves lately, so even if the Purifier wants to cooperate with Prometheus, he has to lie low for the time being, giving him ample time to investigate.
Accompanied by a jingling children's song, the ice cream arrived at the foot of a building in the business district, and children and pedestrians on the roadside gathered around the cart.
In a small shop not far away, journalist Tom Heck tossed a pack of cigarettes onto a wooden table.
The shop owner glanced at it and said, "Two dollars."
Tom Heck pulled out two crumpled banknotes and handed them over, with a photograph between his fingers.
In the photo, Aldridge Corbitt is looking at the camera with his chin slightly raised, his expression haughty.
“Hey bro, have you seen this guy before?” Tom Heck asked.
(End of this chapter)