London, Regent Street.
A sleek black car slowly pulled up along the bustling thoroughfare, yet it blended into the surroundings, hardly standing out on this famed shopping street. What drew attention, however, was its driver—
Ian Russell.
Britain's—and arguably Europe's—top hunter.
Yes, he liked to call himself a hunter, specializing in tracking down the most valuable targets in the world. Those familiar with Ian knew that for him, hunting was all about speed—faster, or even faster still!
But now, the car had been stationary for a long time. Dozens of groups of shoppers had passed by, yet his hands remained firmly on the steering wheel, hesitant to let go. For the first time in his career, Ian found himself feeling uncertain.
This was something he had never experienced. If his enemies knew, they would likely be left speechless! Is this really the legendary Ian, the hunter?!
Hmph. Just a mask-selling merchant hiding behind a façade. There's nothing I can't catch! His gaze hardened, and slowly, he regained his usual composure.
Since receiving the meeting invitation yesterday, his emotions had been all over the place. But he had come alone. That was his confidence—even for a negotiation, he dared to come without a single hound at his side!
A soft, firm female voice suddenly reached his ear.
"You must be Mr. Russell?"
Ian was startled, but he simply tightened his grip on the steering wheel, then turned his head with an outwardly composed expression.
Elegance. This woman had a beautiful face, flawless white skin, and a graceful figure. But what struck Ian first was the word elegance. Her lips curved into a slight, composed smile, one that seemed familiar with such situations.
"You're the owner of Violet Corporation?" Ian asked calmly.
It wasn't until then that he realized he was still sitting in the car while she stood outside, speaking to him. She lightly raised her right hand and gestured toward the street.
"My employer is waiting for you on the street. Please make the most of this rare opportunity."
Ian turned his gaze to the street, but all he saw was a dense crowd, with no sign of the employer she mentioned. Odd. He had encountered many unusual meeting places—by rivers, at sea, in the sky, even in bunkers. But he had never heard of discussing business in the middle of a crowded commercial street.
"Perhaps the fact that you're sitting in the car right now is even stranger?"
The woman seemed to read his thoughts, her eyes falling on his hands still gripping the steering wheel as she kindly reminded him. Ian finally realized and pulled his hands away from the wheel.
"My apologies," he said, still composed as he unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out of the car. "I seem to have been a bit rude for a lady like you."
"But your observation is truly sharp. May I have the honor of knowing your name?"
"Cynthia Vasyka. Please follow me closely. You might get lost in the crowd."
Cynthia nodded slightly and then started walking ahead, showing little interest in continuing the conversation.
As she led the way, Ian frowned slightly. To him, her words conveyed unmistakable confidence.
"Ms. Vasyka, have you ever considered changing your work environment? Honestly, I admire someone as exceptional as you."
Just moments ago, the way she moved had inexplicably made him think of this. Cynthia's long stride faltered for just a second before continuing with firm steps. Her lips curled into an even wider, almost imperceptible smile, drawing the attention of several passersby watching her.
"Sorry, I don't think you can afford what I'm asking."
"Not to brag, but honestly, very few people in Britain make me feel like I can't pay."
Ian's interest grew even stronger.
But Cynthia suddenly turned around, her right hand held out flat as if grasping something.
But this was just an empty lot in front of a coffee shop?
Just as Ian was puzzling over it, her right hand swept through the air. "Now I do."
Ian's confusion lasted less than half a second before two young men suddenly materialized before him.
"My apologies," Ian said, his expression still composed as he unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out of the driver's seat. "I seem to have been a bit rude to a lady like you."
"But your powers of observation are truly sharp. Might I have the honor of knowing your name?"
"Cynthia Vasyka. You must follow me, or you'll likely get lost in the crowd."
Cynthia gave a slight nod, then led Ian forward without much interest in further discussion.
Walking behind her, Ian furrowed his brow slightly. To him, such words clearly conveyed confidence.
"Madam Vasyka, have you ever considered a change of workplace? Frankly, I admire employees of your outstanding caliber."
Her mere movements moments ago had inexplicably sparked this sudden thought in him.
Cynthia's long stride faltered momentarily, yet her foot landed firmly. The slight upturn of her lips grew more pronounced, drawing the quiet attention of several passersby.
"I'm afraid you couldn't offer me the compensation I seek."
"Not to sound arrogant, but honestly, few in Britain make me feel I can't afford them."
Ian's interest deepened.
But Cynthia suddenly turned, her right hand held out flat, as if grasping something.
But this was just an open space in front of a coffee shop?
Just as Ian was puzzled, her right hand swept through the air. "Now I do."
Ian's confusion lasted less than half a second before two young men materialized before him.
This was more secure than any heavily guarded conference venue he'd ever seen!
"What magic exists in this world? How could you possibly think that?" Tver chuckled lightly, while Cynthia and Marvolio behind him exchanged helpless glances.
"No, I know magic exists in this world!"
Ian's eyes sharpened as he fixed his gaze on Tver, his tone even more resolute than his stare.
"Are you certain?"
"Absolutely certain. Because I witnessed it myself, just a year and a half ago!"
This time, even Tver couldn't help but grow serious.
Ian was satisfied that he'd finally seized control of the conversation. He didn't beat around the bush, immediately recalling the experience.
"At the time, I'd just closed a deal worth over a billion pounds with the city government." He subtly flaunted his influence.
"Standing at the window of my top-floor office, feeling elated as I took in the view of London below..."
"I saw a flying car—not in a movie, not suspended by wires, but a real car soaring through the sky!"
"I still vividly remember the laughing faces of the two children inside."
"Many others saw it too, but their expressions quickly turned blank. All because a man in a long robe suddenly appeared and waved a small wooden stick at them!"
"I instantly realized this wasn't something I was meant to know, so I quickly turned away, pretending nothing had happened."
"Since then, I've secretly followed newspapers and TV news programs, but not a single person, not a single word, has mentioned that car."
"So I dared only bury this memory deep inside, never telling another soul."
Tver shrugged noncommittally.
"Maybe you were just so busy at work you hallucinated it?"
Ian stood up straight, his posture so commanding for a moment that Tver felt a fleeting illusion of seeing Rowena Ravenclaw in him.
"No, my eyes saw it, so it must be real!" he declared confidently.
...
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