Chapter 1054 - 141: Snail
"It’s not exactly an emergency, just feels a bit odd."
Ezra Hughes, still carrying the dampness from outside, spoke with a stern expression, "Last night, we detected unusually frequent magic fluctuations. They weren’t intense, appearing intermittently, making it hard to pinpoint the exact location, but the frequency far exceeded normal levels..."
Laira Picquery, holding a file, stood aside and laughed, "Could it be that you’re overthinking it, Mr. Hughes?"
She said casually, "With the weather these past few days, anyone stepping out would need to cast seven or eight spells—Waterproof Spell, Dehumidifying Spell, Warmth Spell, Scouring Charm, Rain Shield Spell... The frequency far surpasses the usual, which should be expected."
Ezra Hughes looked at her and said seriously, "When I say ’unusually frequent,’ it’s naturally a judgment made after considering the weather!"
Hosone leaned back in his chair, his gaze piercing through the large floor-to-ceiling window, gazing at the city as if reborn after a disaster.
"Laira makes a good point, but during bad weather, it’s also the best time to fish in troubled waters. Surely, many Dark Wizards... or those persistent Scourers... will seize the opportunity to stir up trouble."
He said in a deep voice, "Ezra, go investigate as needed! You can mobilize whatever personnel you require..."
He hadn’t finished speaking when the heavy wooden door of the office suddenly swung open, and a young clerk burst in, panting, clutching a roll of accidentally crumpled parchment.
"Chairman Hosone!" the clerk shouted shrilly, "Something... something big has happened!"
Ezra looked at him and felt as if his temple had been hammered, a bad omen instantly making his veins throb uncontrollably.
Hosone stood up abruptly, while Laira immediately took the parchment from the clerk, urgently asking, "What happened?"
As she spoke, she unfurled the parchment.
A series of death lists were on it.
The clerk said in horror, "So many... so many people have died... and they’re all high-ranking Muggle government officials!"
...
The mayor of New York City, Rudolph Weyland, hurried into the city’s emergency operations center, with a secretary jogging beside him, quickly reporting the situation:
"The main members of the Harrington Clan had a violent conflict in their mansion, with the scene extremely chaotic. Richard Harrington and his daughter Victoria were both killed, the murderer possibly being Victoria’s husband, Jonathan, but he also died unexpectedly..."
"Senator Elijah Stockton was found dead due to a sudden heart attack in his bedroom, with no noise heard by his family."
"Samuel Blackster, the CEO of a military company, seemingly slipped during a shower at night and drowned in the bathtub."
"Dexter Rhodes from the Department of Homeland Security... he died unexpectedly in bed after a particularly riotous night, suspected of drug overdose."
"Additionally, several prominent figures in politics and business died in accidents, with the estimated times of death differing by only a few hours. For example, Evelyn Shaw, LeBron Johnson..."
The operations center was brightly lit, with a huge electronic screen displaying a map of New York City, some red dots marking areas like the Upper East Side, Georgetown, appearing extraordinarily jarring.
The mayor stared at those red dots, his face ashen, his hands trembling slightly.
"Tell me, what is this? An extermination of New York’s elite? At this time? In my city?"
He laughed angrily, looking around at those present, "Tell me—has World War III already broken out?"
The police chief, sweating on his forehead and pale-faced, said, "Our preliminary investigation of the scenes showed that every site seemed to be... accidental or internal conflicts... no signs of forced entry and no... outside biological information found..."
The mayor’s voice turned icy, "So, are you telling me that such a dense sequence of deaths within two or three days is purely coincidental?"
"Of course, it can’t be coincidental," the security advisor said gravely, "but... up to now, no organization has claimed responsibility, and the methods vary greatly; this doesn’t look like a conventional terrorist attack..."
"So, we might have to consider another possibility," the chief of staff said in a deep voice, "This could be the work of a highly disciplined organization possessing technology or... or capabilities we cannot comprehend."
He exchanged a silent, meaningful glance with the mayor.
The mayor thought of certain legends and was aghast, breaking into a cold sweat on his back.
He suddenly realized that if some people had targeted him last night, he might already be dead.
The press secretary didn’t understand and hesitated to ask, "Do you mean... that this series of deaths was the work of Russia? Or the East..."
The mayor waved his hand, interrupting her, taking a deep breath, "The deaths... since there was a communication breakdown and no timely report, let’s not go public for now! We can disclose it in phases, in batches, to reduce the impact on the public."
"As for these people..."
He stared at the photographs of the deceased on the screen, seeing their brilliant smiles at the peak of their lives, and said in a deep voice:
"Investigate!"
"I want the FBI, NYPD, Department of Homeland Security... all to get moving!"
"Investigate all the information of the deceased from the past ten years, twenty years, even from birth! Find out what connections they had among themselves! Check their business rivals, their secret collaborations, anyone they may have offended!"
"They can’t be unrelated; this is a targeted assassination operation!"
"I need to know the truth," the mayor said, almost talking to himself, "I want to know... what kind of... thing is hiding in my city?"
The secretary heard this clearly, and she suddenly felt a chill, involuntarily shivering.
...
While New York’s government departments were overwhelmed by a series of deaths, the lives of ordinary people remained largely unchanged.
Traffic had just barely begun to recover, and the hot dog vending cart eagerly occupied a prime spot, providing warm breakfasts to the passersby.
A young man with disheveled hair, wearing a crumpled plaid shirt, leaned against the cart, saying wearily, "Heat the bun, add chili sauce and cheese, I want the Mexican peppers."
In a nearby appliance store window, displayed television sets were broadcasting the morning news. On screen, a well-groomed female news anchor was doing a live interview with an ecologist.
"...so, Professor," the blonde lady asked worriedly, "we’ve all noticed a large number of snails on the streets after the downpour. What do you think is the cause of this phenomenon?"
The ecologist confidently stated, "This is largely the result of unusual rain and humidity changes combined. The snail population will quickly breed and become active under suitable conditions, which is a normal natural phenomenon..."
The young man turned his head, watching the screen for a while, then looked around.
Suddenly, he strode towards the street corner, bent down, and picked up a slowly creeping snail by the wall.
The snail was startled, its soft body quickly retreating into its shell, leaving behind a small moist spot.
The young man casually picked up a stone, and without hesitation, smashed it forcefully—
"Crack!"
With a faint cracking sound, the delicate spiral shell shattered, the gelatinous living organism inside, now unprotected, exposed in the air, trembling slightly.
He observed for a while, then, like a pervert, patiently crushed it bit by bit with the stone, the slime pulling into thin threads, a faintly sweet and fishy scent permeating the air.
"So it really is a snail." He tossed aside the stone, casually took out a tissue to wipe his hands, revealing a relieved smile, "I thought... these were some terrifying things!"
"Sir... your hot dog is ready," the vendor cautiously called out, looking at the young man as if he were a future serial killer.
The young man took the hot dog, taking a big bite, mumbling, "Don’t be afraid, you have no value to me, so you’re harmless to me."
The vendor didn’t quite catch it, offered a polite smile, eyes shifting to the street, hoping for the next customer to come soon.
The young man devoured his breakfast, letting out a satisfied sigh, eyes turning to the snails crawling on the corners or under the window sills, suddenly saying:
"Can you imagine? Suppose these seemingly ordinary creatures were actually controlled by someone, being his eyes, his ears, and could transform into assassins at any time, taking anyone’s life..."