Infiltration

Mithril had been a hard currency in high demand and short supply since ancient times. One Mithril Robe per person was clearly unrealistic; even Sirius Black, that filthy rich bastard, could not afford it.

Therefore, Vincent's plan was to minimize the use of Mithril while still achieving full-body coverage.

He returned to the workshop to begin making prototypes, while Viktor took the old members of the Wizards' Purity Party to check into the hotel they had just bought.

Yes, bought an entire hotel.

The American branch had moved to Wall Street years ago. They already held shares in quite a few listed companies, and after several years, they now possessed vast amounts of Nasdaq stock, wielding influence in the Muggle financial market comparable to that of the tycoon Soros.

It was merely the purchase of a hotel. Viktor had not even raised an eyebrow at the time.

After getting everyone settled, Viktor packed up a lavish lunch and returned to the old book arcade.

Vincent had already made a prototype. There was no problem with its function, but he seemed deeply dissatisfied with it.

Viktor tapped on the workshop doorframe and raised the bag in his hand.

Vincent set down the design drawings and stretched lazily. "Did you get them settled?"

"Rest assured. The Imposter Mask has practically overturned everything they knew. I'm sure they won't reject the Muggle world."

"That's good." Vincent went upstairs with him to the bookstore.

Though it was meant to conceal the alchemy workshop, the old books on the shelves were clearly quite aged, likely Nicolas Flamel's collection from over the years.

Viktor found an empty spot and snapped his fingers lightly, summoning over the table and chairs placed in the corner.

The meal he had brought was lavish, all authentic French cuisine.

Vincent sat