To ensure the “Welcome Party” served as an effective template, Wayne deliberately created an atmosphere of “not needing to be too rigid with rules” last night.
This allowed the Agents to act freely, and the new members could truly relax and adapt as quickly as possible.
However, on the other hand…
Everyone was still in Richmond, after all, and whether the local Agent organization would view the Detective Agency as an “enemy” was still an unknown.
“Relaxing” was fine, but if they “relaxed too much,” it would still appear to lack sufficient vigilance.
So, on the second morning, Wayne specifically checked the security status of the restaurant, and then had Sanders hang Liam up again.
The beams in the restaurant lobby were more effective than those in the temporary stronghold; once a person was hung, they could swing freely up, down, left, and right without hitting the wall.
Liam watched a group of people eating breakfast around the long table, his face drawn in misery from mid-air, “Boss, I think I’m sober now…”
Wayne didn’t even turn his head: “No rush. We didn’t have enough leftover ingredients from last night, and the freshly bought ones are still being prepared. I’ve already told Parker that once he finishes the ‘second batch,’ he can let you down.”
“I wasn’t the only one who got drunk last night, Willie and the others are still asleep… I even guessed that you, Boss, might check this morning, so I specifically reminded those new guys last night…” Liam was still protesting.
At this moment, the “new members” around the long table secretly glanced at Liam, seemingly feeling a bit of lingering fear at having “escaped a calamity.”
In fact, there were also new members who couldn’t get up this morning, but some of them remembered Liam’s reminder and woke their companions up in advance.
Wayne patiently explained: “Last night was a celebration and welcome party, so it’s understandable for everyone to relax a bit. New members temporarily have immunity until their training is complete, and old members who stayed up until midnight or are not in good shape this morning can take turns or shifts to rest, but you said you were fine, and then you fell asleep at the surveillance post by the back door—isn’t it right for you to be hung up?”
Liam swayed back and forth like a large lobster tied by the waist, a fawning smile on his face, “Boss, you said before that I could go to the office, so I wanted to appear more proactive…”
“That’s not being ‘proactive.’”
Wayne pointed to the seat next to him, “Look at Ryan; he knows to maintain his condition and is still sober. I told you to learn from him, and this is what you learned? The person in charge of the office isn’t forbidden from resting, but safety must be the top priority. You need to ensure that the Agents ‘on duty’ are in good condition, not forcing themselves to push through.”
Liam’s head lifted, “I can still be the person in charge of the office?!”
“Temporarily. At least you’ll need to pass a three-month probationary period before it’s confirmed. And I’m already considering re-evaluating the candidates.”
“Don’t, Boss. Look, wasn’t I very vigilant this morning? I found Peter as soon as he crawled over. I’ll pay attention in the future.”
This was actually one of the reasons Wayne would consider Liam: his personality was sufficiently smooth, and his perception of danger was adequate.
Although his “head-on” combat level in the Arena wasn’t top-notch, he was the type who could fight a second round immediately after finishing one, instinctively “reserving strength” for himself, making him more suitable to be the person in charge of the office than the “all-out, collapse after winning” offensive types.
At least in terms of style, he was relatively less likely to be caught off guard by a “mantis stalking the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind.”
After breakfast, there were six peripheral members who were provisionally new and under probation from last night. The partners each took two, mixing old and new, and then Wayne and Inessa left one after another.
Lina, meanwhile, stayed behind to guard the house and also serve as a “supervisor.” The bar’s original haunted house style, relying entirely on candlelight, needed renovation to a bright, storefront window style.
In addition to continuing to separately confirm the current situation in Richmond, the Detective Agency now also had to investigate the targeted journalist case.
Inessa was taking the traditional investigation route, but Wayne’s approach was the opposite—since they needed to confirm the accuracy of the list Father Tyrrell provided, then “working backward from the answer” was actually a method.
With names and addresses, the deceased “victims” and “perpetrators” were difficult to investigate, but the “mastermind” was still alive, and he could also explain himself.
By then, Inessa would have clues, and Wayne would have confessions. By cross-referencing the two, any disputed points would likely emerge quickly.
…
Sanders gradually accelerated the carriage, heading towards the “slum” near the docks.
Inside the carriage, Wayne was sitting opposite “Soften” and “Peng Zhang,” both of whom appeared a bit nervous at the moment.
“Soften”s real name was Wagserna, and his ability was “liquidification under the skin.” “Peng Zhang”s real name was Pekankano, and his ability was to inflate some organic matter into a “honeycomb” or “sponge-like” state.
Both names were transliterated from Indigenous languages. “Soften” also came from the last Indigenous community, but according to their own accounts, they and the previous “apprehended leader” were, strictly speaking, not from the same tribe or clan, but only belonged to the same “tribal alliance.”
And it must be said, if judged solely by “appearance,” neither of them had the “obviously Indigenous” look; the differences only became apparent upon closer inspection.
Their skin tones were also closer to that of white immigrants who had “sufficient sun exposure,” at least they could pretend to be descendants of immigrants from certain regions of the Old Continent or something.
It’s unclear if it was “survival of the fittest” or “mixed bloodlines…” A private matter, and it felt a bit inappropriate to ask.
It would be impolite.
You can’t make people say they’re “mixed-race,” what if it was truly natural evolution.
—“White-skinned immigrants” aren’t all very white; in fact, they range from “pale white” to “light brown,” otherwise Snow White wouldn’t be characterized by her “skin as white as snow.”
It’s not like it’s because her goods were the purest, after all.
But no matter what, judging solely by their names, “Soften” and “Peng Zhang” must have received Indigenous education in their childhood. Even though they can now enter “civilized society,” they still consider themselves Indigenous at heart.
Wayne had specifically singled them out, wanting to see if he could open a breakthrough.
So he thought for a moment, and then spoke: “I’m very curious, how do you view the relationship between white-skinned immigrants and Indigenous people?”
“Enslavement and domestica—…”
“Soften” had barely begun to speak when he was forcefully interrupted by “Peng Zhang.”
The version “Peng Zhang” provided was more in line with the self-perception of “civilized society”: “It’s probably like how immigrants also gather in different communities based on their hometowns; everyone wants to be a part of American society…”
Wayne didn’t want to hear such platitudes. His eyes shifted slightly, “Do you know that in America today, white-skinned immigrants can legally hunt Indigenous people?”
In fact, the American bounty on Indigenous people had a “cultural hunting” nature.
It was somewhat reminiscent of the saying “keep your hair or lose your head.”
If a person’s appearance, language, behavior, clothing, and etiquette were no different from others in “civilized society,” and they were accepted by the local society,
Then, without delving into details, that person would be considered a member of civilized society and no longer someone ordinary people could casually harm.
The Fisk siblings had even said that even black-skinned slaves in the South could become slave owners—you see, even real great slave owners recognized that.
But conversely, if a descendant of white immigrants grew up in an Indigenous tribe, wearing their clothes, following their traditions, only speaking Indigenous languages, and fighting resolutely for them,
Then they could also have their scalp taken—after all, even their hairstyles were distinctly different, and their faces might be “colorful,” so probably no one would scrutinize the corpse.
“Soften” and “Peng Zhang” were instantly choked by Wayne’s profound question. “Soften” still looked a bit “accepting of reality but subtly unconvinced,” while “Peng Zhang” already had the feeling of “swallowing insults, with only helplessness and no heart left.”
Just as the two lowered their heads slightly, hesitating to speak, likely preparing to say “we know,” Wayne’s second question was already out:
“If you were given an opportunity to also legally ‘hunt’ certain white-skinned immigrants—who might actually be the very people who enslaved you before—would you be interested?”
Both instantly straightened their backs and widened their eyes. “Peng Zhang” didn’t know what he was thinking of, but he was already swallowing saliva in fear at this moment.
Meanwhile, “Soften’s” fist gradually tightened in hesitation, and his gaze fixed on Wayne, “If the blame ultimately falls only on me and won’t implicate my tribesmen or family, I can.”
Wayne rolled his eyes at him: “What are you thinking? Our Detective Agency only ever does things that comply with the law. How can combating evil be a crime?”
It seems I was right after all. If a person has light in their eyes and hatred in their heart, then perhaps all they lack is a “sword in hand.”
If I want to secretly pry open a crack in the local Agent organization, it won’t be easy without “acquaintances leading the way.”
Alas, corrupt officials must be cunning, and upright officials must be even more cunning, otherwise, how can they deal with those bad people?
I’m also afraid of being assassinated or framed…
