Viktor's lips curved into a careless smile as he asked, "Sorry, the bench isn't long enough."
Ezra Hughes's features looked especially cold and hard beneath the mottled shadows of the trees.
In an even voice, he said, "Then let's discuss your recent itinerary."
"For example... how did you obtain your qualifications for the Alchemy Competition?"
"And before that, you took the same flight to Britain as Wade Grey and the Scourer assassins. I remember that when you bought the ticket, you said you wanted to study some of Britain's ancient cultural knowledge in depth."
"But the reason you gave the other wizards was that you wanted to study the British Wizarding World's alchemy."
"Have you finished your studies? Why did you return to New York immediately after spending barely a week in Britain?"
"And when my people investigated the Harrington family's deaths, do you know what they found in those Muggles' memories?"
Without waiting for Viktor to answer, he gave the answer himself:
"Before the bodies were discovered, someone saw two bodyguards patrolling the courtyard in the rain. And one of them... for some reason, looked remarkably like Mr. Viktor."
Viktor shrugged. "People can look alike! They say there are at least six strangers in the world who look almost exactly like you, despite having no blood relation to you."
As he spoke, he casually shifted to the side. The wooden bench gave a faint creak.
"Have a seat," Viktor said lazily. "I was just looking for someone to chat with too."
Ezra Hughes sat down calmly, then let his gaze fall upon the Black Dog lying beside them.
Those obsidian-like eyes were watching him from below, yet they held none of an ordinary pet dog's curiosity, wariness, or affection.
Ezra Hughes had a very clear instinct—it was observing him.