The boss's brow twitched, his murky eyes glancing at the photo, asking, "Why are you looking for him?"
Tom Hake perked up, a gossipy smile appearing on his face: "His wife insists he's cheating, and hired me to investigate. Some people say they've seen him around here."
"Oh, well, they're not wrong."
The boss sneered with undisguised disdain and a hint of envy: "That guy is a guest of the Stonefield Family. See, just in the building behind you, they've got every indulgence in there!"
Tom Hake timely handed over a few bills, asking, "When? You know, I need to snap a few photos to report back to his wife."
As he spoke, he casually patted his camera.
"Oh, well, I can't quite remember... those big shots, when their cars pass by this dump of a shop, the windows are tightly shut, swoosh, and they're gone!"
The boss mumbled while reaching for the money on the table.
Tom Hake pressed down on the bills, looking at him with a half-smile.
"Alright, alright, I do know a bit more, but you mustn't tell anyone I said it."
The boss lowered his voice: "That old guy from the Stonefield Family, the one in the wheelchair, even the president stretches out his hand when he sees him, is surprisingly polite to the man you're looking for, even personally entertained him."
As he took the money and stuffed it into his pants pocket, he nervously glanced around and leaned closer to Tom Hake:
"Once, when I went to the alley to throw out the trash, I heard their two bodyguards saying that man could give the old patriarch unimaginable power."
His face broke into that smile all men understand as he spoke.
"What exactly is he selling? William Stonefield is so old, and he still can't settle down. Since you know that man's wife, do you have any way of getting some..."
Tom Hake blinked, "—Ah?"
"Of course, I actually haven't reached a point where I need that kind of potion," the boss said, feigning: "I just want to try whatever it is that even that old guy wants so bad!"
Tom Hake casually said a few words and left the shop, trembling with excitement all over.
Kobit disappeared.
The Magic Congress claims that the guy colluded with the Scourers and Muggles, selling out the Magic World's secrets, severely violating the Confidentiality Law.
When the Aurors tried to capture him, Kobit resisted, injuring six before fleeing heavily wounded.
The Magic Congress issued a wanted notice throughout the Magic World, sternly declaring that they would not tolerate such actions and anyone providing clues about Kobit's whereabouts would receive a handsome reward.
But Tom Hake was not interested in Galleons; he was too excited about the big secret he was about to uncover.
Just what kind of enticing benefits could make a high-ranking deputy minister of the Security Department risk betraying his own kind?
What secrets did the Muggles gain from him, and why haven't they been revealed to their society?
After Kobit went missing, is he now colluding with those Muggles? Before his disappearance, did he drag anyone else down as a high-ranking official?
Every time these unanswered questions crossed his mind, Tom Hake was as if wound tightly and wished he could be on the investigation path twenty-four hours a day.
Now, he finally acquired a useful clue—
Kobit was helping a Muggle gain unimaginable power.
Tom Hake certainly wouldn't stupidly believe it was some little pill for elderly men to regain their vigor.
What needs a wizard involved? An Elixir of Life? Invisibility Cloak? Or magic itself?
He seemed to hear his pulse clearly, pounding one beat after another, hurried and full of anticipation.
But Tom Hake murmured to himself: "Be patient, Hake! The investigation is just starting..."
"Jingle bells, jingle bells, the bells are ringing..."
A somewhat noisy song echoed beside him, along with a man's intentionally lowered voice: "Your chocolate ice cream, here you go."
Tom Hake touched his pocket, saw he had two Muggle bills left from his last exchange, and headed toward the ice cream truck.
—Better get an ice cream, it's rewarded for himself! Today is worth celebrating.
Suddenly, Tom Hake stopped dead in his tracks, his gaze landing on the side profile of a man in a baseball cap, bending over to give a child a cone.
At the moment the person stood up, Tom's smile instantly froze into utter bewilderment.
"—Rolando Stern?"
The memory of that shy and quiet yet highly accomplished excellent student contrasted sharply with this vendor's image, dressed cheaply and looking weary.
"What's up with this guy? I thought he'd surely be an elite at the Ministry of Magic! Who would've expected him to be like this!"
Tom Hake grumbled, casually raising his camera.
"Click!"
The lens perfectly captured Stern handing a cone out the window to a Muggle child at that instant.
"Next week's dinner is all on you, Stern," Tom Hake muttered to himself: "Lately, what's going on with everyone? After Rappaport's Law was repealed, everyone's rushing to interact with Muggles?"
He didn't buy ice cream anymore. When he turned to leave, he glanced back at the man surrounded by customers.
"Don't blame me for showing your embarrassing side," Hake mumbled: "When the report comes out, maybe some bigwig will want to sponsor you voluntarily. Then, you might actually thank me!"
...
Stern didn't notice what the scruffy man was doing from afar; his full attention was drawn to someone else.
Headmaster Fontana seemed determined to help his former student, and after sending his daughter home, he changed into Muggle attire, following the ice cream truck from a distance.
Yet, while stalking, he didn't specifically hide his presence. Every time Stern spotted that shadow in his view, it felt like a nerve being heavily plucked.
Fontana is nearby; he can't just call the leader, instead must keep up the act thoroughly without doing anything that doesn't fit his identity.
But now it's already late, and when there are no more customers on the street, does he have to take Fontana to his place?
Stern feels anxious, even accidentally mismatching ice cream, and has to remake another for the little customer in front of him.
He's now regretting—regretting not disguising himself before going out.
But who could've expected? In a city with eight million people, total separation of the two societies, and still bumping into acquaintances...