Laira barely had the strength to lift her eyelids. But something akin to obsession sustained her, preventing her from succumbing to the endless night devoid of pain and burden.
With her last ounce of strength, she turned her head with difficulty.
Her vision was blurred, figures looming.
Wizards in gray robes silently gathered around, like the legendary God of Death, their faces hidden in the shadows of their hoods, yet the one leading them did not wear a hood, seemingly unafraid of having his identity recognized.
The light from the lampposts on the bridge illuminated a rather handsome face, causing Laira's pupils to slightly constrict.
She recognized this face:
"You are... Salem's... professor... Antoine Moro?"
Antoine stopped a few steps away in front of her, looking down at her without much expression and said:
"I'm honored that Ms. Picquery knows such a little figure like me."
Laira's consciousness struggled on the brink of dispersing, she spoke intermittently:
"Fontana mentioned... encountering you... tracking Rolando Stern... he said perhaps you are... Dumbledore's person... and that's why we... decided... to shake off the Scourers and... Prometheus... to avoid... being dragged down by them..."
Antoine chuckled: "Oh? He thought I was sent by Dumbledore? Because of those British Aurors earlier? He guessed that there were other helpers hidden in the dark, hence his misunderstanding of my identity. Unfortunately, he guessed wrong, I am loyal to Mr. Grindelwald."
His words floated into Laira's ears, becoming extremely blurry and distant, indistinguishable to the woman.
Her life was rapidly slipping away, even the pain was becoming numbed.
However, at this moment of dying, something stood out vividly, like a reef revealed after the tide recedes.
—No rescue.
Something felt wrong.
The Witch Pure Party was indeed terrifying, but... the Congress had long gathered various intelligence on the Witch Pure Party, although unaware of most identities, they understood their style of doing things.
After Fontana encountered Antoine, they tried to gather some intelligence on Antoine through Salem's faculty and students.
That precise suffocation-inducing calculation, endless kill moves crossing the boundary of magic and Muggle world, and the sense of control seemingly predicting her every move...
That was not the style of Antoine Moro, nor did it match the Witch Pure Party's behavior over the past two years.
Suddenly, the janitor she encountered in the subway tunnel resurfaced in her mind, his bizarre "revival" replayed again and again in her thoughts.
Like being struck by lightning, a name suddenly sprang from the fragments of her memory.
Laira's scattered gaze suddenly focused, staring intently at Antoine, speaking with a voice as weak as a whisper but extremely certain:
"Not... you..."
Antoine slightly tilted his head: "What?"
Laira slowly said: "Vid... Gray... is it him?"
She had no strength to say more, but the extraordinarily persistent look in her eyes spoke of the truth they both knew well.
Antoine was silent for a moment, then sighed regretfully.
"Why did you have to become smart at the last moment? If you remained foolish, considering all the turmoil you've stirred up, I could have let you live a couple more days."
The intelligence in Laira's mind was undoubtedly an immense treasure, useful for controlling other officials and some wizard clans in the United States, more effective than Imperio.
But if Laira were taken back, there'd be a constant risk of leaks—even among the high levels of the Witch Pure Party, not everyone was completely loyal to Grindelwald, let alone loyal to his chosen successor.
To Antoine, as long as Vid had not truly joined the Witch Pure Party in his own identity, maintaining the secrecy of that identity was paramount.
More importantly... Antoine worried that Mr. Grindelwald might not think the same.
He raised his magic wand, softly said:
"Avada Kedavra!"
On the steel skeleton of the Brooklyn Bridge, a point of green light rapidly expanded, a high-pitched and sharp lament resonated across the bridge!
...
The fire in the fireplace burned quietly, its dancing orange-red light spreading warmth throughout the room.
A lean figure sat in a deep red armchair, propping his chin with one hand, calmly saying:
"The person you were worried about—Laira Picquery is dead."
Sitting opposite him, Krinch Bullet only dared to put half his body on the sofa, sitting more painfully than standing.
Upon hearing this, his body trembled slightly, and then his spine bent slightly. His hands were nervously clasped in front of him, and his face squeezed out a nearly obsequious smile:
"Really dead? I... I mean, your subordinates are truly remarkable in their efficiency; the Congress's Auror special operations team just set out to investigate Ms. Picquery's residence... The Witch Pure Party truly lives up to its name..."
He flattered while a layer of cold sweat uncontrollably appeared on his forehead.
Upon receiving the news of Fontana's death, he hurriedly rushed to visit Grindelwald. The sofa wasn't even warmed up when he heard that Laira was also dead?
Even without considering Fontana, just Laira's level was not something ordinary wizards could compare to.
Moreover, that woman, even while on the run, should have been able to mobilize many people to assist her, but she was killed so quickly?
This terrifying execution ability, control, and intelligence far exceeded Bullet's imagination and made him even more fearful for his situation.
Grindelwald seemed not to hear the tremor in his words, watching Bullet with a smile, his tone calm yet tinged with a hint of amusement as he asked:
"So, Chairman Bullet, regarding the news of Laira Piqueley's death, do you think it should be made public to the masses... or kept secret for now?"
The decision seemed to fall into his hands, yet Bullet's forehead was covered with small beads of cold sweat, and his feet trembled uncontrollably.
Releasing the news would mean this threat would fully become history, Congress could stabilize more quickly, and the power transition would be smoother.
The public, seeing the culprit brought to justice, would have their anger and disappointment assuaged, all past mistakes of the Congress could be pinned on the deceased, and Bullet's authority could quickly be established, facilitating the creation of a "clean" Congress image.
But if not publicized... then to track down Laira Piqueley's crimes and prevent disturbances from her remaining followers, Congress could reasonably expand certain departments' powers, strengthen surveillance and control, and use this as a pretext to eliminate dissenters.
How to choose... seemed to require no hesitation at all.
Yet Bullet swallowed nervously, respectfully saying in a trembling voice:
"Mr. Grindelwald, I think... with my shallow insight, I'm utterly unfit to make any suitable judgment... Please, as you did before, guide me on what to do. I will definitely... definitely execute it without reservation..."
Grindelwald smiled gently, saying: "It's alright, in front of me, you may speak your mind freely. No matter what you say, I won't hold it against you. I think we already have enough understanding and trust between us, don't we?"
"Yes, yes, of course..."
Bullet shifted restlessly in his seat, stealing glances at Grindelwald's expression, gaining no hint from his face, and only after a while did he muster the courage to say:
"I, I pondered repeatedly, thinking... thinking perhaps not publicizing for the time being is... is a more prudent course?"
Seeing Grindelwald's expression remain as calm as a still lake, Bullet grew even more anxious, unable to stop babbling:
"This... after all, the cause of death still needs further 'verification,' and a hasty announcement could spark unnecessary speculation... even questioning whether the contents of the previous broadcast were an abuse of Congress's power..."
"Moreover, maintaining a wanted status can make the public and media feel that we are still actively at work, not relaxing... and also just... to bring certain collaborators with Laira Piqueley to justice..."
"Of course, all of this is just my insignificant thought. Ultimately, what to do is entirely up to your decision! I, I comply entirely with your orders. If you believe announcing it is better, more beneficial for the overall situation, I'll immediately go arrange a press conference!"
A flash of satisfaction mixed with contempt crossed Grindelwald's eyes as he said: "Then do as you said—there's no need to announce it for now. When the time is right, the public will naturally know that the fugitive disrupting Congress's stability has been confirmed dead."
Bullet immediately sprung up, bowing deeply: "Yes! Yes! I know what to do, thank you for your trust and guidance! Then, then I won't disturb your rest any longer..."
Upon receiving permission, Bullet hurried out of the room as if escaping for his life.
After gently closing the door, he leaned against the cold wall, letting out a long sigh, feeling as if he had just passed through a gate of death.
When he had calmed his nerves, Bullet barely adjusted his expression to a concerned look as he returned to Congress Headquarters.
Along the way, the Congress staff he encountered stopped, casting respectful yet slightly admiring and awe-filled glances at him.
They greeted him enthusiastically:
"Good evening, Mr. Bullet."
"Mr. Bullet, the inauguration ceremony process has been arranged. When would you be available to review it?"
"Mr. Bullet, my mother asked me to thank you on her behalf for becoming the last pillar of the American Magic World!"
"Mr. Bullet!" "Mr. Bullet!"
Greetings came from all directions, and some even called directly: "Chairman Bullet!"
Bullet instinctively straightened his slightly hunched chest, trying to maintain a calm and dignified demeanor as he walked towards his office.
Even though he knew where this power came from, walking amid the reverent gazes, the feeling... was still intoxicating.
...
After Bullet left, the heavy wooden door of the study silently shut, and the room returned to silence, save for the crackling of burning wood in the fireplace.
Grindelwald leaned back slightly, speaking in a low voice: "Did you understand it, Vid?"