Miss Wang Weina, even your cousin won't do!

“No problem, Professor Bruce.” Theresa replied readily, addressing him as “teacher” without any sense of inappropriateness.

However, Wayne felt a nosebleed coming on, because Theresa's voice was too sweet, and because of Theresa's stunning selfie just now, he was thinking of the amazing sight of Theresa in her youthful and beautiful school uniform, and the slightly forbidden teacher-student romance.

It's decided. We'll summon the diplomats from the East and see if they've developed that sailor suit thing yet.

"By the way, Mr. Bruce..."

"You should just call me by my name."

Wayne interrupted, feeling that if Theresa kept yelling like that, the driver, who kept looking worried in the rearview mirror, would really turn around and take him straight to the hospital.

"Hmm? Okay." Theresa nodded, puzzled, and changed her words, "How have you been eating these past few days, Mr. Bruce? Are you having any trouble getting used to the Colombian food? If you don't like it, I can ask Kal'tsit to cook for you. Don't let her appearance fool you, she's actually a very good cook."

"Well....."

"Don't worry, I know Kal'tsit doesn't seem to like you very much, but I'll ask her for help. Eating is very important, you must keep your diet healthy."

Theresa said with concern, then stopped chatting, probably to contact Kal'tsit.

Wayne's gaze drifted elsewhere.

Actually, Theresa, you might not know this, and you didn't even have to ask her, but Kal'tsit... has already started cooking for me.

.........

The Presidential Suite, penthouse of the Elizabeth Hotel.

Kal'tsit, who had just arrived at the hotel, hadn't even had a chance to sit down when she received a message from Theresa, the first thing she said being:

"Kal'tsit, your cooking skills are amazing, aren't they?"

The lynx's ears immediately perked up in alarm.

What does Theresa mean? Why did she say this at this particular time and juncture?

Could it be... that my cooking for Wayne has been exposed? Is Theresa here to confront me?

Kal'tsit suddenly panicked a little, but after a while she suddenly realized, "Wait a minute, why am I panicking?"

I prepared dinner for Wayne because I knew he might not be used to the Colombian cuisine, which was basically inherited from Victoria. It was for his nutrition, health, taste, and safety. Besides, don't be fooled by the fact that she rarely goes into the kitchen; her thousands of years of life experience are no joke. She, Kal'tsit, has done everything from bureaucrats and nobles to cooks and maids. She even passed the Yan Kingdom's top-level chef assessment eight times. Her culinary skills are naturally first-rate, and she certainly didn't skimp on Wayne.

Normally, apart from Theresa, no one else could ask me to cook a meal for them, even if they begged. Wayne was able to eat because of Theresa, so why should I, Kal'tsit, feel guilty?

I'm not afraid of Theresa!

Having sorted out her thoughts, Kal'tsit replied:

"I'm not that great. My main profession is as a doctor. As for cooking, I only know a little bit about it."

"Don't say that, Kal'tsit. There's something I'd like to ask you."

Kal'tsit raised an eyebrow: "You mean?"

"It's about Mr. Bruce. He's been traveling to Colombia lately, and because of my status, I can't go with him, so I'm really worried about his daily life. If possible, could you please take good care of him?"

"Um...."

Kal'tsit nodded in reply.

In fact, Kal'tsit had already started doing these things without Theresa even having to say anything. Although nominally the "Empress's agent" monitoring Wayne to prevent him from having affairs, Kal'tsit was also aware that she was more of a bodyguard and attendant.

She naturally knew how to wake Wayne up and cook for him.

This could be considered a meeting of minds between them and Theresa.

But Kal'tsit felt that something was off. Why did she and Theresa suddenly become so in sync about taking care of Wayne?

"A rational choice is not to overthink it," Kal'tsit said, frowning slightly as she reminded Theresa.

“Your Highness, although I understand your thoughts, I still have to remind you that the Princess is not a three-year-old child. If you spoil her like this, you will easily turn her into a useless person.”

Theresa smiled slightly and joked:

"Hey, compared to you and me, isn't Mr. Wayne a child?"

In the past, Kal'tsit would probably have said "indeed," but now it seems she really isn't. If her guess is correct, then Wayne is probably in the same grade as her, or even older. Theresa, you'll be the little kid then.

But isn't this a bit too strange? No matter how the roles change, there's always one side practicing the wet method on Tong?

This is terrible. Kal'tsit wisely decided not to pick up on the Theresa joke.

In short, be mindful of the limits.

"Okay, then I'll leave it to you, Kal'tsit. Please take good care of Mr. Bruce for me. I'll be going now."

Upon seeing this text, for some reason, Kal'tsit felt a sudden tightness in her chest and quickly typed:

"Where are you going?"

Theresa took a picture of the restaurant and Vina, and replied, seemingly confused:

"Let's have dinner."

Kal'tsit breathed a sigh of relief and patted her head helplessly.

Honestly, what are you thinking?

Everything is getting better now, and the sad things I used to imagine, the unacceptable endings, will never happen again.

This can be considered a blessing in disguise, thanks to that man.

It's decided. Since Theresa has asked me to, I'll show off my skills tonight.

Wearing an apron and rolling up her sleeves, Kal'tsit went into the kitchen.

Chapter Sixteen: One Minute!

Columbia, Silicon Valley, 33 Simpson Avenue, Ed Cafe.

The owners of Ed's Café are two young men from Lateran and Minos. Some might be surprised, as these two countries are worlds apart on a map of Terra, and their people should never have any connection. But that's the reality—in Colombia, a burgeoning nation, and Silicon Valley, ranked as Colombia's most prosperous tech city in 1092, the impossible becomes possible.

The Lateranites, with their sweet tooth, took charge of the café's excellent dessert menu, while the Fonhoes, skilled in bartending and cooking, crafted exquisite coffees, lattes, and Frappuccinos. Their shared heritage even allowed them to source high-quality dessert flavorings and Fonhoe milk from their homelands of Lateran and Minos. This collaborative effort propelled the café to greater success, making it a popular choice among the hundreds of residents on Simpson Street in Silicon Valley, though not quite a large chain.

Wayne's choice of this location for the meeting was somewhat strange. Logically speaking, when meeting with a client who had asked him to investigate such a significant case as the "Locken Tank Human Experimentation Case," the chosen location should be a dark alleyway, similar to a gang meeting place, or at the very least, a sparsely populated area.

But Wayne looked left and right, and the bustling crowd in the store didn't seem like a suitable place for a secret meeting.

But never mind, Wayne doesn't have that kind of penchant for sneaking into secluded alleys. Although it's not quite the secret transaction he imagined, at least the place is decent enough. Besides, the important thing isn't the meeting place, but the client.

Wayne pushed open the door and entered. The welcome bell on the door rang crisply, like those in an old-fashioned Victorian shop. A Carter's saleswoman, adorned with a halo supported by wire, quickly approached Wayne, pen in hand, and politely curtsied, saying:

"Sir, may I take your order?"

The folded-eared bunny girl's novel outfit caught Wayne's attention slightly. He raised an eyebrow and replied:

"A Matcha Frappuccino."

"Takeout, sir? We're fully booked right now."

"It's okay, I have an appointment."

Wayne waved his hand, watching the girl bow before turning and leaving. He then turned his gaze back to the packed café before him.

The client was among them; she must have seen me enter the coffee shop, but she probably hadn't confirmed my identity yet, so she didn't go up to greet me. Or perhaps...

Wayne took out his phone, enthusiastically edited an email, and sent it to his client:

"I've arrived. I ordered a matcha Frappuccino."

Soon, the client sent a reply:

"Find out who I am."

as predicted.

Wayne felt that the client's choice of this meeting place was not without reason; was it a test for him?

...............

Hamer sat by the window on the inside of the coffee shop, opposite Fiona, who was swinging her legs and looked inexplicably uneasy. At first glance, both seats were occupied, clearly belonging to a mother who had brought her child to the coffee shop for a break during her leisure time.

Unaware of what had happened that morning, and assuming that Fiona was simply a little afraid of the "famous" and also "infamous" Pulitzer reporter who was about to arrive, Himer reached out and gently patted her head, giving her a reassuring smile.

Immediately afterwards, she pressed the enter key on the laptop in front of her and sent the email she had already edited to the Pulitzer reporter who had just entered the store.

Yes, this is a test she can arrange.

Loken Tank Labs is a giant in Silicon Valley's biotechnology field, controlling a vast amount of social resources in the tech city. Secretly investigating Loken Tank seems like an impossible task for anyone. Hamer initially had no hope, but Pulitzer's appearance gave her a glimmer of hope.

The fact that he could seduce the Lateran Church and escape unscathed, and snatch something from the mouth of the Archduke Victoria and remain unharmed, suggests that this journalist named Pulitzer might actually be able to create miracles.

She saw hope, but she remained calm. Before truly entrusting the case to the Pulitzer journalist, she still needed to verify whether the journalist was truly deserving of his reputation.

Finding a client in a café that can hold a hundred people, someone you've only communicated with via email and who seems to have no other information, seems like an impossible task. But investigating the truth behind the Loken tank is undoubtedly much more difficult. If even this is impossible, then there's no point in Himer showing up to explain the details of the commission, because that would only send an incompetent Pulitzer journalist to his death.

So, try to find me. I'll give you ten minutes, Joseph Pulitzer, to see what you're capable of!

Do you mind if I sit here?

Holding a matcha Frappuccino, Wayne strolled leisurely to the serious-looking Himer's side, a smile on his face, and asked in a relaxed tone,

"The client?"

Hammer looked up, revealing the "perfect!" expression that Wayne had anticipated.

"Who are you....."

Wayne extended his hand to Himer and introduced himself:

"Let me introduce myself, Joseph Pulitzer. Just call me Pulitzer."

"Hello... How did you recognize me so quickly?"

Hamer was incredulous. The speed was too fast. From the moment she saw Pulitzer enter the coffee shop to the moment she sent this email, less than a minute had passed, and Pulitzer had seen through her disguise and accurately located her position. It was simply unbelievable!

Wayne didn't answer, he just shrugged:

Aren't you going to let me sit down first?

Himer nodded in sudden understanding and called to Fiona:

"Come over here."

Wayne sat down and casually explained:

"It's very simple, Ms. Client. From the moment I sent you the message, I started observing the people using electronic devices in the coffee shop. There were thirty-three people in total. Thanks to the owner's very minimalist decor, the view is very open, which saved me a lot of trouble."