New Gods of North America

The next day was Wednesday. Wayne hadn't even finished his afternoon Theology Theory class when Doug's blue-and-gold macaw fluttered onto the classroom windowsill.

The parrot wasn't making a racket, but it kept grinding its claws and pecking like it had ADHD.

At first, the professor tried to ignore it, hoping the wild bird would fly away on its own.

But when he noticed many students were distracted by it, he tried to shoo it away, but it wouldn't budge, and he felt his blood pressure rising.

If he had a shotgun, the professor might have just blasted it.

Wayne also pretended not to know it, held up his textbook, and waved, signaling the parrot to leave.

The bird ignored him and wouldn't move, but before leaving, it shouted at the windowsill, "Aye! Boss!"

Hmph,

I'll let the peregrine falcon educate it when I get back.

Lina and the others had been running their stall at the academy all afternoon.

They originally planned to sneak into Priest Pasiel's residence behind the academy church if he temporarily left, but they never got the chance.

Instead, Lina found a new, frivolous pursuit:

"I've realized that based on the past two days' revenue, the income from selling food seems higher than the detective agency's main business.

Should we just switch to selling food?"

Of course, the profit is high when you calculate it like that...

The average purchasing power in the academy is strong, and the chef's food is both delicious and 'fresh'.

Riding the wave of cheesy, meaty burgers and hot dogs allows them to sell beverages at such a high premium in the short term, without considering labor and venue costs.

But the current model clearly can't be replicated or sustained for long.

To make this business work, market promotion is the first issue, and more importantly, controlling overall costs and product quality.

If the latter two aren't done well, they might end up losing money the more they do, unless...

Wait,

That actually might be a viable path.

While pondering the feasibility of this idea, Wayne left Sanders to continue guarding and boarded the carriage with Lina, who was gleefully counting her change, heading back to the detective agency.

...

As soon as they returned to the detective agency's courtyard, Doug came up to Wayne and whispered.

Liam and the captives confirmed the identity of the visitor.

Barring any extraordinary abilities, the detective agency's guest was indeed the "Mr. Wiseman" known to them and Wayne.

Since the other party had taken the initiative to come, it would be impolite for the detective agency not to react.

He instructed Conner and Sanders to chat with the visitor's servants and coachman, while Damon McReady, whose appearance wasn't suitable for going out, went to the "guard room" at the courtyard entrance to read the newspaper.

As soon as Wayne entered the reception room, he saw the so-called "Mr. Wiseman."

Hooked nose, high cheekbones, and shifty eyes—he didn't look like a good person.

Out of courtesy, Wayne greeted him and then went to the liquor cabinet to get the cheapest whiskey, intending to probe what this guy was up to.

While rummaging for a glass, Wayne even imagined that this guy might suddenly pull out a potion and chug it down, then "transform" in the detective agency.

Although it might just be a desperate struggle, if he broke anything, no one would be able to pay for the damages...

This Mr. Wiseman seemed aware of his sensitive position.

After taking the glass, he proactively started the conversation: "Mr. Wayne, as you may already know, I used to work for Mr. Baker.

Some of the things he arranged for me to do were actually targeted at your detective agency."

Now that the agents were in position, Wayne appeared magnanimous:

"Ah, that's all in the past, no need to mention it.

I wonder what Mr. Wiseman is here to discuss today?"

Under Wayne's gaze, Mr. Wiseman opened his briefcase and handed over a list: "These are some of the matters that Mr. Baker had me handle.

I know some of them might not comply with the law, such as hiring bounty hunters to carry out 'missions' according to his instructions.

But if you look at the contracts alone, they are actually perfectly legal."

Wayne glanced at the items on the list, the dates, the number of people, and the amounts and payment details listed afterward.

After a rough calculation, the total outstanding payment was over $5,000.

Wayne was a little confused: "Mr. Wiseman, what does this mean?"

Mr. Wiseman picked up the glass but didn't drink, holding it with both hands as if looking into it:

"According to the recent information disclosed by the police, Mr. Baker used the people I found to launch several attacks on your detective agency.

"Although I wasn't aware of the truth beforehand, I knew it wasn't in line with a lawyer's professional ethics.

So, I want to transfer these outstanding payments to your detective agency as an apology and compensation from Mr. Baker and myself to Mr. Wayne.

"Mr. Wayne, you can rest assured that these funds were transferred through Mr. Baker's personal account and my firm's account, and have nothing to do with Cohen Pharmaceuticals.

I have the corresponding contracts here, which can prove that they are completely free of legal defects."

Hmm...

A simple murder charge wouldn't confiscate personal property.

As for this money that is already 'ownerless', it sounds like it would be foolish not to take it...

Wayne understood that this guy was trying to 'spend money to avoid disaster'.

Since it was all 'there for the taking', there was no reason to give it away for nothing.

So, Wayne took a sip of his wine: "Is there anything I need to do in return?"

Wayne seemed to understand why the big shots liked to drink or smoke cigars when discussing business.

The slow actions of 'tasting' or exhaling smoke could gloss over matters they didn't want to or couldn't answer immediately, and also naturally pass the conversational ball to the other party.

It was indeed a very useful tactic.

Mr. Wiseman quickly shook his head: "There's no need to do anything.

I believe that as victims, Mr. Wayne, you deserve this compensation."

After saying that, he seemed to ponder for a moment, then flipped through his briefcase again and took out another document:

"To be honest, I personally have another request for your detective agency, but this matter might sound a bit far-fetched.

I'm not sure if you, Mr. Wayne, would accept this request."

Wayne glanced at the opened sealed envelope.

It had a handwritten and uncommon name on it, 'Pasiel'.