0709 Following the Clues
Thanks to the extraordinary prosperity of the once-thriving textile industry that dominated the regional economy for centuries, Bologna was historically crisscrossed with an intricate network of carefully engineered canals throughout the city's streets and bustling neighborhoods.
This complex aquatic infrastructure earned Bologna the nickna "Little Venice of the North".
However, in the aftermath of that infamous and catastrophic World War that intensely affected both the wizarding world and the Muggle world, most of the city's canals were forced underground.
Municipal authorities, facing the dual challenges of post-war reconstruction and modernization, made the controversial decision to conceal these historic waterways beneath layers of concrete and asphalt, sacrificing aesthetic beauty for pragmatic urban developnt.
Only a precious few section remained visible to the modern eye that provided present-day visitors a glimpse of the forr architectural splendor and romantic ambiance that once defined Bologna as "Little Venice."
The golden, honey-warm diterranean sunlight spilled like liquid amber onto a sparkling, curving river that cut through the densely packed, architecturally complex buildings of the university district.
Along the sporadically placed trees on both banks of the canal there were nurous eager young n and won clutching thick academic books and journals, basking contentedly in the dappled, speckled light that filtered through the gently swaying branches above them.
These energetic Muggle youths, representing dozens of countries and academic disciplines, gathered in small groups with enthusiastic expressions, vigorously discussing various topics ranging from Renaissance art theory to advanced biochemistry while their lodious, carefree laughter occasionally startled small flocks of pigeons into sudden flight.
"Where exactly did you attend university, Bryan?" Louise asked curiously.
As they continued their walk along the picturesque riverbank, the carefree, pleasantly nostalgic atmosphere of the lush grove slightly dispersed the rising worries and dark premonitions that had settled in Louise's heart. Fondly recalling her own wonderful student days, she noticed Bryan also watching those carefree students, and she impulsively decided to satisfy her curiosity.
"Hmm?" Bryan blinked rapidly several tis, appearing sowhat caught off guard by her question.
"University—" Louise repeated with a deliberately emphasizing tone. She closely studied his profile against the sun-drenched backdrop. His youthful complexion made it relatively easy to determine that Bryan was actually quite young, perhaps no more than twenty-five.
However, the man's composed temperant, his wisdom and those intensely deep, piercing eyes that seed to perceive far more than they revealed always subconsciously compelled people to think of him as an 'old soul' like soone who had experienced far more than his apparent years.
"I'm guessing you graduated no more than three years ago, am I right?" She pressed, her tone light but her attention was sharply focused on his reaction.
"Ah—" Bryan responded with a smile that revealed nothing while appearing completely honest. "Perhaps—"
Instinctively recognizing that such a vague answer wouldn't possibly satisfy her, Bryan pursed his lips thoughtfully. His gaze swept slowly over the eager, enthusiastic faces in the grove, and he finally spoke with a touch of sentint,
"Work responsibilities have been so demanding lately that I've barely had the ti or energy to properly reminisce about the beautiful, carefree days of my student life—"
Kingsley, who was leading the way, also seed unexpectedly affected by this nostalgic conversation as his unwavering pace was briefly paused. Louise, who keenly noticed this, seed to recall sothing, and her curious gaze began shifting back and forth between the backs of the two n's heads in front of her.
"Speaking of professional matters—" Louise said casually, raising an eyebrow.
"Bryan—and Kingsley, you two obviously work for the sa secretive governnt departnt, right? But you seem to differ greatly in age—that's quite unusual in conservative governnt bureaucracy, especially in a traditional British departnt with its rigid hierarchical structure.
Bryan, how did you manage to beco Kingsley's superior so quickly? Hmm, let guess... Watson... I have indeed heard about a certain influential high official on Downing Street with that surna..."
As Louise slowly made her guesses, she carefully observed Bryan's expression, hoping to discover so clues from his deanor and body language.
"Not even the least bit close to the truth, I'm afraid, Louise—" Bryan responded with calm confidence as he gazed steadily ahead, his smile revealing absolutely no flaws or openings for Louise's probing to exploit. "Could it perhaps be credited simply to my genuinely outstanding professional abilities?"
"Outstanding professional abilities? Successfully demonstrated within a notoriously inefficient British governnt departnt? Hmph—" Louise scoffed incredulously.
As if recalling so unpleasant mory from her prior investigations into governnt incompetence, Louise gave several more scornful, disbelieving snorts.
Louise was very interested in this question. She tried probing indirectly through conversational tactics, hoping to understand why Bryan could be Kingsley's superior, and also hoping to confirm their true identities through these inquiries.
But facing the combination of Bryan's tactful evasiveness and Kingsley's stoic uncommunicativeness, her limited investigative skills proved to be insufficient to achieve her purpose, falling embarrassingly far short of extracting any aningful information from either of the n.
Before long, without having successfully uncovered anything of practical value, she found herself inadvertently divulging quite a significant amount of her own information instead. By the ti Louise slowly realized that she had said far too much, she had already followed Kingsley to an increasingly deserted, eerily desolate area far from the university's vibrant social center.
The river that had accompanied them throughout their lengthy walk gradually dwindled to a pitiful, purring trickle, finally disappearing into a moss-covered underground stream beneath an ancient, crumbling arched bridge constructed of gray listone blocks.
On the other side of the bridge, the forrly picturesque canal was completely filled with foul-slling silt, rotting plants, and decaying leaves that ford a nauseating organic mud.
On the opposite higher bank stood a once-magnificent red-brick monastery probably dating back to the early Renaissance period, now so thoroughly dilapidated and abandoned that even the wooden window fras had completely separated from the main structural walls.
The monastery's outer wall facing their position was densely covered with withered vines and the lower corners of the structure subrged in damp soil due to poor drainage showed signs of black mold damage and structural instability.
At the highest point of the deteriorating religious building stood a surprisingly well-preserved white dod with a beautifully designed openwork bell tower supporting a tarnished yet still impressive gilded crucifix.
From all indications, this ancient monastery no longer served its original purpose. Now, it was probably a paradise for sewer rats.
"This is Onisto Pastore's current residence, Mr. Watson—" Kingsley said grimly as he stopped at the midpoint of the arched bridge, turning to look at Bryan, who was examining the abandoned monastery complex with scrutiny.
"And his daughter, Valeria Pastore, was the only mber who mysteriously disappeared without explanation shortly before that so-called magic research society was disbanded—she was one of the most promising students according to faculty reports.
Before his daughter's misfortune, Onisto Pastore successfully ran a locally renowned and highly profitable leather boot workshop, a small manufacturing factory with nearly forty employees. He himself seems to have been a financial sponsor of that society—"
Kingsley paused briefly to gather his thoughts, then continued,
"—According to what I've learned, after his daughter inexplicably vanished, Pastore completely lost his mind and all interest in managing his previously thriving factory. He quickly and recklessly sold all the profitable companies operating under his na. According to those who knew him, he simultaneously sold his luxurious villa, his cars... Finally, he donated a large sum of money to charity, then chose to live on the streets—"
For so reason, Bryan wasn't touched by this story at all. Instead, his pale purple eyes, shimring in the sunlight, flashed with a cold light.
"I never imagined—"
Louise blew her nose heavily choking on these words, speaking with both sadness and anger,
"The very first ti I visited Bologna and ca here investigating Fraser's disappearance, it was Valeria who personally took to that mysterious basent laboratory where Fraser had been staying. She was a very beautiful and cheerful girl, and she was also a mber of that magic research society.
Except for being unwilling to discuss specific details about the society's objectives with despite my persistent questioning, Valeria was otherwise very talkative and welcoming. Because of her, I even developed a considerably more positive impression of the society Fraser had joined—"
Bryan didn't comnt much on this matter. He gazed at the forgotten monastery amid the wild grass, his sharp gaze scanning through the shabby courtyard walls to assess the situation inside.
"Let's go in and say hello—" Bryan said calmly, then took the lead, stepping past Kingsley toward the monastery.
Inside the courtyard walls, the weeds grew even more vigorously than outside. These weeds had caused the original stone slabs to crack and split. Due to blocked drainage, almost half the courtyard had turned into a 'pond' full of foul-slling silt.
Although the sunshine remained brilliant, Louise shuddered suddenly upon entering this place. The sky, though unclouded, seed to be covered with a strange, gloomy veil.
"Mr. Watson..." Kingsley said hesitantly, his deep voice carrying a note of warning.
The colored stickers on the broken stained-glass windows of the dilapidated church had not completely faded. The colored light they scattered in the sunlight shone upon the intruders, silently relating the forr prosperity of this place.
Even Kingsley frowned at the coldness in the air, lowering his head and calling out softly.
"It's quite obvious, hmm—"
Surprisingly, Bryan was in no rush to explore the monastery. He stood behind the rotting door, closing his eyes to carefully sense sothing, listening to the wailing in the gloomy wind. After a mont, he slowly opened his eyes, smiling slightly, but with no trace of smile or humor in his gaze,
"I bet this place is terrifying at night—"
Louise failed to understand Bryan's implicit aning. She frowned deeply, scanning the surroundings.
"I genuinely don't understand—" Louise said in confusion, "Unless he's completely lost his sanity to grief, why would any rational person deliberately choose to live in such a dangerously dilapidated and thoroughly depressing place?"
"Perhaps he truly has fallen into madness, this unfortunate Mr. Pastore—"
Bryan shook his head slightly. He did not rush into the main hall to pay homage to the deity on the crucifix, nor did he search each room. Instead, he walked lightly along the cloister toward the monastery's backyard.
Standing in the middle of a patch of wild grass was a snow-white building, once grand but now equally dilapidated. This round, spire-topped structure, not particularly tall, had an unknown forr purpose. The thick brick walls had only a small square window about seven or eight feet above the ground, giving the disturbing impression of a dieval private confinent cell or a prison.
"Is he actually in there?"
Kingsley's deep voice revealed caution. He had noticed a series of crooked footprints on the ground, leading from the end of the corridor to the entrance of the building bathed in sunlight, yet with a dark, deep doorway. For so reason, Kingsley felt an urge to draw his wand, but glancing at Louise, who also seed to shrink from the aura emanating from the entrance, he restrained himself.
"Let's proceed cautiously, we'll pay a respectful visit to Pas... Oh, I'm not entirely certain if it's actually him inside, but he should logically be the current 'master' of this abandoned place—"
Bryan said with remarkable composure that seed at odds with the increasingly oppressive atmosphere surrounding them.
THUD!
Just as he confidently took a single step forward toward the white structure, a heavy, knocking sound suddenly erupted from deep inside the building, instantly freezing Bryan's newly initiated step.
Louise's face imdiately transford with horror. In that terrifying split second of fear, she instinctively chose the one between Bryan and Kingsley who intuitively gave her a greater sense of security and protection—she pressed herself tightly against Bryan's back, desperately clutching the tip of his sleeve with trembling fingers.
THUD, THUD, THUD!
The deeply disturbing, dull knocking sounds grew increasingly urgent and forceful, each impact more frantically desperate than the last. The unseen person creating this rhythmic noise seed desperately eager to accomplish sothing beyond the understanding of them three.
"Let's go—"
In Bryan's faintly glowing, pale purple eyes, mysterious whirlpools of concentrated magical energy slowly rotated like millstones grinding an invisible substance. He said sothing that confused both Louise and Kingsley.
"Let's go help him."
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