Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 419 Never Stop Learning (Second Update! Please Vote!)

"Mr. Damonette, you shouldn't be here." When Finch returned to the abandoned library with a cup of green tea, he was startled by the arcane mage standing in front of the iron gate. The little bear that should have been guarding the house was now lying at Salomon's feet, cuddling. This was not a good sign. It not only meant that Finch's hideout had been exposed to "unrelated personnel," but also that he and Mr. Rither could not stop Salomon from doing whatever he wanted.

Upon being discovered, Salomon calmly greeted Mr. Finch. Although it appeared Salomon was currently sharing candy with ROOT, Harold Finch had no idea what they had discussed earlier. Considering Salomon's revelation of his collaboration with the machine, ROOT, imprisoned in this quiet room filled with interference signals, had most likely received new instructions from the machine.

"Where is Samun Shaw?" Salomon pulled his hand out of the metal sliding door, bent down, and carefully poked the little bear's head. He didn't reveal his true purpose, but instead brought up a trivial topic.

"Don't worry, this is just a casual visit; it's just that your place is a little hard to find." Salomon smiled and took several glass jars from his bag, handing them to Mr. Finch, who seemed somewhat bewildered and wary. "These are gifts for you. My family has just made a pot of beef broth that has been simmering for four days; the flavor is incredibly rich, the kind of deliciousness you only find in Michelin-starred restaurants. This is red wine beef broth, this is black pepper beef broth, and this is the original sauce, which can be paired with a simple tomahawk steak or a more elaborately cooked filet mignon."

After handing the sealed glass jar to Finch, Salomon took out a bottle of red wine.

"I'm so sorry I didn't inform you beforehand; it was very impolite. This is a gift for you." Salomon nodded slightly in apology to Mr. Finch. The overly polite atmosphere made Mr. Finch subconsciously bow in return, but after straightening up, he forgot to dwell on the question of "what Salomon and ROOT discussed."

"Romagnac de Romanée-Conti." Mr. Finch accepted the wine with his free hand. He glanced at the label and vintage and roughly judged the value of the bottle. "This is a very valuable gift, Mr. Damonette."

"But it's nothing to you or me." A $60,000 bottle of red wine was given away in the blink of an eye; it was truly nothing to a sorcerer. The collectible value of this level of wine far outweighed its tasting value, and dollars were just pieces of paper to him. Aside from necessary research equipment, he had nowhere else to spend his money.

To this end, he specifically contacted a wine supplier and signed a contract to supply various types of high-quality wines as employee benefits within the Immortal City.

Italian wine brand Romanée-Conti is one of the major wine brands, and the supplier also gifted him a 2012 vintage of Salomon worth $4600. The Romanée-Conti in Finch's hand, however, is a 1995 vintage, a rare collectible for someone with extensive wine knowledge.

ROOT stood in front of the metal sliding gate, watching Mr. Finch and Salomon's increasingly nerdy conversation. She smiled as she popped a rainbow candy into her mouth and reached out for a few candies for the little bear.

Salomon did tell her something and gave her something. It was a deal between the artificial intelligence and Salomon. As a top hacker and the executor of the artificial intelligence, ROOT was on the same side as Salomon—ROOT would execute any command from that machine without hesitation.

Without asking the reasons, without asking the results.

With such a useful asset, Salomon must enhance her survivability. The circular amulet hanging around her neck was hand-carved by Salomon using the copper casings of bolt-action bullets. This amulet is decorated with clover and Vishanti prayers, granting ROOT a +5 luck value when facing gunfire—meaning that within a range of approximately ten meters, ROOT also has a chance to dodge incoming bullets.

"Oh, right." After a string of complicated and polite platitudes, Salomon finally remembered what he wanted to say. "If you see Samon Shaw, please say hello for me," he said. "My girlfriend wants to host a private wine tasting at her home, not many people. Shaw is one of Bayonetta's few friends, and I'd really appreciate it if she could come."

These were all excuses. He had done what he needed to do, and ROOT waved to him with a grin from behind the door as he said goodbye. By the time Finch came to his senses, Salomon had already stepped through the portal and vanished without a trace.

"I'd like New York strip steak today, Harold," ROOT said with a smile, "with the sauce our good neighbor brought over."

“Of course,” Finch said, “but I ask you to tell me exactly what Salomon said to you.”

"It's not gentlemanly to pry into a lady's private life," ROOT mocked the conversation between Salomon and Finch that had taken place not long ago.

"You're not a lady, ROOT. A lady doesn't kill people."

“But you’re a gentleman.” ROOT smiled slyly, leaving Finch with almost no room for argument. “Hurry up, I’m starving.”

"Woof!" The little bear stood up, agreeing with ROOT's statement.

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"You're not Salomon! Salomon would never be so polite! Tell me! What did you do to Salomon?!" Nick Fury pounded his chest, looking extremely angry and remorseful. Salomon, sitting opposite him, rolled his eyes and made to leave.

He had given Nick Fury a farewell gift—a bottle of red wine of the same caliber as the one he had given Finch. When Nick Fury learned the value of the wine, Salomon knew that this guy had definitely embezzled a significant amount of public funds. Sixty thousand dollars a bottle of wine—not a huge sum, but not a small amount either—perfectly positioned between the middle class who were trying to flaunt their wealth while also paying off their mortgages and the truly wealthy bourgeoisie. Nick Fury, a public servant, absolutely couldn't afford such a bottle of wine unless he had embezzled public funds.

"Wait, wait," Nick Fury called out to Salomon. He had no intention of mentioning the Asgardians, much less Salomon's super-soldier program. He had already arranged for people to handle it, and the results would naturally appear on his desk. "Do you need something from me?" he said, putting the wine in the drawer. "This isn't a bribe; it's just a gift between friends."

"Yes, I'd like to ask you for a spot." Salomon sat back down in his chair. S.H.I.E.L.D. was on the verge of collapse, so before it did, Salomon didn't mind using the organization's influence to do something for himself.

"As you know, I will be managing a large organization, and I chose physics as my major..."

Nick Fury nodded; he roughly understood what Salomon meant. "You want to learn how to manage and operate a large organization, right?"

"Not entirely," Salomon shook his head. "As the head of the organization, I have plenty of manpower to manage it, but I don't know what happens in a tightly structured organization."

"So, you want to learn how to administer," Nick Fury asked. "You want to work in the US government?"

“Not entirely,” Salomon said. “The organization in the U.S. government is too surreal and crude, like a savage shack. Elected officials are unscreened, untrained, stupid and blind, spouting nonsense after taking bribes. Working under such people is like entering a pigsty crammed with filthy pigs.”

Nick Fury glanced at Salomon's sharp black striped suit, his ironed shirt collar, and the blue handkerchief tucked into his pocket, and a bad feeling instantly crept into his heart.

"I want you to help me get a civil service intern position in Whitehall," Salomon said with a smile. "I want to learn from the cabinet secretaries how to manipulate intrigue, pass the buck, shirk responsibility, embezzle bribes, and incite the mob."

"You want to control the British government!?"

Please vote for me!

(End of this chapter)