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 nickname “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 development.

Only a precious few section remained visible to the modern eye that provided present-day visitors a glimpse of the former architectural splendor and romantic ambiance that once defined Bologna as “Little Venice.”

The golden, honey-warm Mediterranean 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 numerous eager young men and women 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 melodious, 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 times, appearing somewhat 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 temperament, his wisdom and those intensely deep, piercing eyes that seemed to perceive far more than they revealed always subconsciously compelled people to think of him as an ‘old soul’ like someone 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 sentiment,

“Work responsibilities have been so demanding lately that I’ve barely had the time or energy to properly reminisce about the beautiful, carefree days of my student life—”

Kingsley, who was leading the way, also seemed unexpectedly affected by this nostalgic conversation as his unwavering pace was briefly paused. Louise, who keenly noticed this, seemed to recall something, and her curious gaze began shifting back and forth between the backs of the two men’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 same secretive government department, right? But you seem to differ greatly in age—that’s quite unusual in conservative government bureaucracy, especially in a traditional British department with its rigid hierarchical structure.

Bryan, how did you manage to become Kingsley’s superior so quickly? Hmm, let me guess… Watson… I have indeed heard about a certain influential high official on Downing Street with that surname…”

As Louise slowly made her guesses, she carefully observed Bryan’s expression, hoping to discover some clues from his demeanor 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 government department? Hmph—” Louise scoffed incredulously.

As if recalling some unpleasant memory from her prior investigations into government 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 meaningful information from either of the men.

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 time 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 limestone blocks.

On the other side of the bridge, the formerly picturesque canal was completely filled with foul-smelling silt, rotting plants, and decaying leaves that formed 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 frames 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 submerged 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 domed 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 member 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 name. 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 some reason, Bryan wasn’t touched by this story at all. Instead, his pale purple eyes, shimmering 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 time I visited Bologna and came here investigating Fraser’s disappearance, it was Valeria who personally took me to that mysterious basement laboratory where Fraser had been staying. She was a very beautiful and cheerful girl, and she was also a member of that magic research society.

Except for being unwilling to discuss specific details about the society’s objectives with me 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 comment 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-smelling silt.

Although the sunshine remained brilliant, Louise shuddered suddenly upon entering this place. The sky, though unclouded, seemed 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 former 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 something, listening to the wailing in the gloomy wind. After a moment, 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 meaning. 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 former 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 medieval private confinement 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 some reason, Kingsley felt an urge to draw his wand, but glancing at Louise, who also seemed 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 seemed 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 immediately transformed 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 seemed desperately eager to accomplish something 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 something that confused both Louise and Kingsley.

“Let’s go help him.”

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