Laira stepped forward and bent down, picking up a distorted button from the ashes.
Then she turned and looked at the others.
Under the grape arbor, the woman's back was upright, and the moonlight outlined her calm profile.
Among the many cloaked figures, she was the only one whose face was not covered, and at this moment, everyone's gaze was fixed on her.
She looked at everyone with eyes that were not sharp, yet carried a quiet pressure similar to Hosone's, as if they could penetrate the disguise and flesh, and see straight into the depths of the soul.
"Brothers, sisters, comrades in our common cause!"
Laira slowly began to speak, letting the weight of each word sink into everyone's heart.
"Tonight, there are no flashbulbs, no glamorous stage, and no empty promises, only us! And the truth we mutually protect!"
"For many years, we have danced with darkness, we have made rules for chaos, and delineated boundaries for violence!"
"We have allowed the existence of things outside the rules, used methods not recognized by law, not out of worldly greed and desire, but because controlled chaos is the foundation of stability!"
"Our hands may not be purely immaculate, but our goal remains to make the future of this country clean and strong!"
"We cannot let the fate of the country fall into the hands of those naive fools; it must be we who truly understand the rules of the world to steer the country's direction!"
"Everyone, the time is here!"
"The time for... determined and capable people to lead us forward! We are about to step into a new era, an era where we make and control the rules!"
"We will set a new order together, and I will also ensure everyone's contributions are rewarded accordingly, ensuring our shared ideals come to fruition, protecting the true future of the American Magic World!"
As soon as the words fell, the night wind suddenly grew, rustling through the leaves.
After a long, suffocating silence, one of the cloaked figures slowly raised his right hand, placed a clenched fist against his chest, and bowed his proud head slightly.
"Ms. Laira Piqueley, I am willing to support you on behalf of my family and myself. What I trust is not only your determination but also the foresight and ability that runs in your blood."
His voice was old and deep, pausing before saying: "Madam Seraphina Piqueley once led the American Magic World through the most terrible crisis in history."
"And in you, I see greater courage and wisdom, as well as determination and responsibility."
"We believe that the path you lead will undoubtedly surpass the past, creating a truly strong new order that belongs to us!"
Subsequently, the second, third, fourth...
Like a silent tide, everyone present responded to Laira's call with the same gesture.
Laira watched as everyone bowed their heads, a genuine, ambitious smile finally appearing on her lips.
...
"Jingle bells... jingle bells... jingle all the way..."
In the afternoon, cheerful but slightly off-key music approached as an old ice cream truck drove slowly and was immediately surrounded by a group of children from the community park.
"Take your time, take your time."
The vendor driving the truck smiled gently, saying, "Don't worry, everyone can get one. Kid, what flavor would you like?... Strawberry? Okay, just a moment."
The vendor parked the truck by the roadside, swiftly serving ice cream to the children.
He seemed an ordinary middle-aged man, wearing a somewhat greasy baseball cap, with a few strands of brownish-gray hair sticking out under the brim, and a weary yet kind smile on his face.
Soon, each child had an ice cream, but the vendor seemed to want to take a break, looking at the children with a smile, not immediately heading to the next place.
However, occasionally, his eyes, hidden under the shadow of the cap, would glance over the children's heads and towards the end of the street where a heavily guarded mansion with tall iron gates and lush gardens stood.
On either side of the iron gate, bronze emblems with no writing were embedded, featuring an eagle surrounded by oak branches;
Near the entrance was a dark, matte steel plate that almost blended with the surrounding tree bark, with only one word on it—
[Stonefield].
It seemed that this surname alone conveyed a strong sense of weight.
And indeed it did.
The vendor lowered his eyes, smiling as he made ice cream for a young customer who had just run over.
...
Across the street, the disguised Vid and Antoine sat at a window seat in a coffee shop, and after ordering, both looked out the window coincidentally.
Under the shade, the ice cream vendor did not have many customers and was using his hat to fan himself.
"It seems he doesn't plan to leave anytime soon." Antoine added two sugar cubes to his coffee, took a sip, and frowned, "Is there something wrong with the house he's watching?"
Vid squinted his eyes, reading the words on the steel plate.
"Stonefield..."
He recalled the information Elise had given him and said softly:
"If I'm not mistaken, they initially made their fortune in mining and timber, ventured into oil, military, and finance during World War II, and in recent decades, they've been involved in biotechnology and media; they're a true giant in Muggle society."
"Really?" Antoine raised an eyebrow and looked at the three-story building, muttering, "Isn't this house somewhat mismatched with their wealth status?"
"This should be just an insignificant property among their family holdings," Vid said. "Muggles don't have the Floo Network, so their wealthy like to buy properties in every place they fancy."
"Oh... this guy dares to keep an eye on such a top-tier wealthy property, so he must have some issues... but how did you find out he was problematic?" Antoine asked curiously.
Images of various sizes of snails flashed through Vid's mind before he said:
"The truck... it never goes to crowded places with lots of kids, instead always wanders in places it shouldn't."
"Like near several regular entrances of the Magic Congress, outside shops like the White Bridge Inn, near the entrances and exits of the Magic Hospital, and in communities near the abandoned factories overturned by Delaine in Brooklyn."
"What kind of person do you think loiters in such places?"
...
The ice cream vendor pressed against his ear, whispering, "...Cooperation is possible, but we must confirm what they can offer and what the cost is!"
"I don't trust this group, Mr. Bloren. I need to see their sincerity and ability with my own eyes, not just empty promises!"
"Please give me a bit more time, don't make promises lightly! I..."
Before he could finish his sentence, a voice suddenly sounded behind him:
"Rolando Stern? Is that you?"
The person exclaimed in surprise, "I really didn't expect to see you here!"
Stern's entire body tensed up instantly, his fingers gripping the truck body turning white with exertion.
He did not turn around immediately but stared intently at the figure behind him through the reflective stainless steel bars on the truck, quickly recalling every word he had just spoken...