Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 711 Violets and Bergamots

"You still smell of blood. Even though you changed your clothes, I can still smell it." She leaned closer, her warm breath brushing against Salomon's ear. "Don't forget, I'm the best agent."

Even though Salomon had changed into a spotless suit and wore a black tie with scarlet rose vines, she could still smell the gunpowder clinging to his skin. There were also traces of dried blood in his knuckles; even though they were just small, brownish fragments, she noticed them instinctively. She would never mistake them for rust or anything like that; she was very familiar with blood. Romanov easily reached a conclusion, and although there wasn't strong evidence to support it, she knew she was right.

"You've really opened my eyes. Although I was mentally prepared, I underestimated the limits of mortals."

The sorcerer nodded with satisfaction.

Agent Romanov's intelligence-gathering abilities exceeded his expectations. Even with the S.H.I.E.L.D. intelligence network destroyed, she could still find the information she wanted through her own methods. This skill and way of thinking are timeless and invaluable, worthy of study by all intelligence personnel. The watch Romanov had given him was right in front of him, while the earrings Salomon had given him were already on Natasha's ears, looking perfectly matched with her long dress.

"You've won this time. The victor usually receives spoils. What do you want from showing me this information, Natalia Romanova?"

Natasha raised her head haughtily, stood up with a smile, picked up her expensive handbag, and walked down the jewelry store stairs without looking back. The strange color changes in her ethereal body made the sorcerer wonder if Agent Romanov's split mind was malfunctioning.

"You're too direct, Mr. Pendragon," the manager said slowly. "I'll pack up the jewelry you need and send it over later. Also, I suggest you wear this watch before trying to salvage the situation; it will be more effective that way."

Salomon glanced at him.

"If you want to solve the problem completely, I suggest you order a diamond ring. Like the earrings you ordered via text message before, they're from Tiffany's legendary jewelry designer Elsa Peretti's platinum and diamond collection—simple in design, suitable for everyday wear. Not satisfied? Then I recommend the BLUE BOOK high jewelry collection, suitable for important occasions like evening parties. If you need to propose… well, I still have a word of advice." The manager raised an eyebrow, showing him his left hand, "A proposal might solve the problem temporarily, but you'll have to bear the long, drawn-out pain afterwards."

The sorcerer looked at the manager with surprise, "Why are you talking so much today?"

"Because you are our honored guest, Mr. Pendragon."

"Isn't it because women spend money on jewelry?"

"That's one of the reasons. We've rarely seen customers like you since the economic crisis," the manager smiled shyly. "The more female companions you have, the higher Tiffany's sales are, and I'm specifically responsible for meeting your shopping needs... My son needs tuition, and private school tuition isn't cheap."

"You've pulled more money out of my pocket than any woman could, and you're a man." Salomon rolled his eyes, signed a few checks, and said, "I'm in a hurry. You know where to send them, but..."

"Of course, of course, two different addresses." The manager made a zipping motion on his face. "I'm excellent at keeping secrets, you can absolutely trust me. The ring you need will be delivered soon, I promise it won't take long... What? You don't need a ring? Aren't you planning to propose?"

"Just as you said, I won't make a decision I'll regret for the rest of my life."

Salomon got up and left his seat, walking down the stairs.

Natasha Romanoff appeared silently behind him, her movements as graceful as a heron's, even in four-inch heels. Fifth Avenue, in the heart of Manhattan, remained bustling as sunset approached, its shops illuminating their windows. Just before the winter solstice, the orange-red sunlight still painted the rooftops of the skyscrapers along the street. In a few days, the "hanging sun" phenomenon, stretching across the island, would arrive, bathing the entire street in the red glow of the setting sun behind the thin clouds.

“Just a few hours ago, there was an explosion at Pym Technologies. Strangely, the explosion didn't cause much chaos; local police, while maintaining order, noticed unusual activity from the local gang.” She picked up her handbag and shook it, demonstrating to the arcane artist that she wasn't carrying any recording equipment. “They're all dead. The autopsy reports show numerous wounds from melee weapons, and some large-caliber bullets that closely match the weapons used by the androids you created. Do you have anything to say, big boy, about why you did this? I don't want you and Stark to clash again.”

"Because it is necessary."

"Guilt?" She looked at Salomon as if he were a stranger, her eyes gleaming in the afterglow. The top notes of violet and bergamot, exuding mature charm and wild allure, made the sorcerer inhale for a while longer.

"The Only One, an extremely rare perfume."

The female spy smiled. "You actually smelled it! But don't think you can change the subject like that."

“Alright, then I’ll answer your question.” They walked slowly, turned a corner, passed St. Patrick’s Cathedral, and headed toward Madison Avenue. A walk in the sunset was a wonderful idea; everything slowed down, giving them more time to talk. She listened intently to every word Salomon said, not missing a single one.

"I can only assure you that those who shouldn't have died are all alive and well. From now on, the crime rate in that city will decrease until gun dealers fill the market again." Salomon made this assurance at the end, while not forgetting to mock the so-called "free world."

"I don't think you care about the lives of some gangsters. Shouldn't you be more concerned about the black market for guns or the Second Amendment than holding me accountable?"

"I think it's a good suggestion, but why did you take me to the Lotte New York Palace Hotel?"

“I rented a room there long-term, and that room is yours. It has a private bathroom and a minibar, a large bed, and we can see the skyline from there.” Salomon had remained silent until they arrived at the hotel. He only spoke again while riding the elevator. “I personally executed many people, Natasha,” he said. “To quell the unrest in the shortest amount of time, I had to completely dismantle several blocks of guns. Some people were just confused and trying to protect themselves, but I still hurt them—probably fractures, arthritis, and concussions. The guilt is still there, but I had no choice; if I let it go, more people would get hurt.”

"Are you atoning for the bombing?"

"You could say that, ma'am."

"Now you're calling me 'Madam' again?" The female spy raised an eyebrow. "We haven't even entered the room yet, you heartless man! What are you planning to call me later, Madam? Do you really have to remind me of my age?"

"I haven't said anything yet!"

"I'll say it for you first: this is a woman's privilege—men who say one thing and mean another!"

Please vote for me!

(End of this chapter)