317: Chapter 310 The Lost Boy

Russia.

A bar in Mosco.

As dusk fell, people who had been busy all day couldn't wait to swarm into the bar.

In just half an hour, the empty bar was already packed to capacity. They called out to the waiters for whiskey to quickly soothe their weary bodies and minds.

After a glass, the patrons began chatting with the friends they had come with.

News of the supernatural has dominated international headlines recently. No matter how large or small a country, as long as they had internet access, they were aware of it.

As one of the five major powers, Russia naturally had internet access. Its citizens, bombarded by the recent overwhelming flood of information, were indeed interested, so the conversation naturally revolved around the supernatural.

They first debated whether Hogwarts or the Mountain Gate was stronger. Since neither supernatural organization was in their country and there was no authoritative data on their strength, both sides eventually found it hard to reach a conclusion and chose to set the matter aside for now.

The topic then shifted to whether their own country had any supernatural presence.

Two men held opposing views; one believed that if Russia had any supernatural beings, they would have appeared long ago, while his friend firmly believed that Russia's supernatural elements were merely hidden for the time being.

This topic wasn't just their concern; there wasn't a single Russian citizen who didn't care about it.

As the two men's voices grew louder, the debate quickly spread throughout the bar. Patrons began to take sides, raising their glasses to support one or the other.

Under the influence of alcohol, everyone's words became increasingly heated, showing signs of escalating into a group brawl.

The owner, looking down at the hall from the second-floor railing, was a bit panicked. If these drunks started fighting, he feared his bar would be reduced to ruins in an instant.

Just as he was worrying about what to do, a youth of Seventeen or eighteen pushed open the door.

The youth's appearance was not outstanding, and his clothes were very simple. His expression carried a hint of distress, as if he were facing a difficult predicament.

The patrons, busy rolling up their sleeves and preparing for a fight, clearly had no time to bother with a youngster.

Glancing around the rowdy hall, the youth asked softly, "Excuse me, is this Seventeen?"

His lips had only parted a sliver, and his Adam's apple didn't vibrate violently. His voice shouldn't have been very loud, especially in such a noisy environment; logically, no one should have heard him at all.

Strangely, everyone present felt the youth's question right in their ears.

Though they were drunk, they hadn't lost consciousness and immediately sensed something was wrong.

Consequently, all eyes converged on the youth.

Being stared at by everyone, the youth felt a bit overwhelmed and instinctively took a step back. "If it's not, I'll go somewhere else to ask."

"Hey, buddy, you just..."

"Don't scare him! Get out of the way!"

A large man with a stubbly beard habitually asked about the anomaly in a rough voice.

The youth was startled and turned to flee out the door. Seeing this, a Young Woman in her twenties nearby kicked the man aside and ran up to the youth.

"Don't be afraid, good child. No one will hurt you." After soothing him, she asked, "What is your name?"

"Tevan Camp."

"Tevan, you just asked if this place is Seventeen?"

"Yes, my teacher told me that Seventeen is in a place where many people drink. I've been lost in the city all day and only just happened to find this place."

The beautiful Young Woman was puzzled and muttered, "Seventeen is... a bar?"

"Bar?" Tevan tilted his head and asked back, "What is a bar?"

"Uh... it's like what you see here. A bar is a place used for drinking and chatting."

There were actually many other uses, but the Young Woman felt those weren't suitable for a child, so she didn't mention them.

"Then it must be Seventeen!"

"I haven't asked you yet, what is Seventeen for?"

"Oh!" Tevan's eyes lit up, and he pulled a piece of parchment from his chest. "It's my new classroom. Teacher said I'll be going there for classes from now on."

Classes? A place where many people drink?

The Young Woman didn't know why these two elements were being linked together, so she pressed further, "But... you can't drink in a classroom. You must have the wrong address."

"Ah?" Tevan's expression dimmed. "I'm already lost. I can't find the classroom, and I can't go back to the mountains."

"How can you be lost nowadays? Did you... lose your Mobile Phone?"

"I don't have a Mobile Phone. Teacher said I can only use one after I'm a hundred years old, otherwise it will affect my studies."

Tevan's words were getting more and more absurd, at least to the Young Woman.

"Uh, okay, maybe your teacher thinks you'll live a long time, but a hundred years old..."

"Security Bureau! Everyone disperse!"

The bar door was pushed open again, and a man in a suit walked in. Behind him, armed Soldiers filed in, driving all the patrons surrounding Tevan toward the walls.

However, when a Soldier approached the Young Woman, Tevan pulled a wooden staff out of his wide sleeve and flashed in front of her. "She is very kind, you cannot hurt her!"

The man in the suit standing at the door suddenly clenched his fists. His eyes had never left the youth, and he was absolutely certain that the wooden staff had been pulled from the sleeve.

But that wooden staff, which looked to be about 1.5 meters long, could not possibly fit into a sleeve less than a meter long.

The intelligence was correct; Russia's supernatural has appeared!

"Hello, Mr. Tevan. I am Farid, from the Russian Security Bureau."

Tevan shifted his gaze from the Soldier to him. "Why do you want to hurt her?"

"No, you misunderstand." Even though the person before him was just a youngster about the same age as his son, Farid didn't dare show the slightest contempt and explained sincerely,

"To ensure our conversation isn't interrupted, we must make sure the environment is quiet enough, which is why we are clearing the area. We won't hurt the citizens; we're just asking them to leave."

"No! She warmly helped me when I was lost. I will only talk to her!"

"As you wish. But Mr. Tevan, your appearance will cause a commotion. To prevent crowds from gathering and causing a stampede, I hope you'll allow us to set up a cordon outside."

"As you wish."

Farid ordered the Soldiers to take all the patrons out, including the bewildered owner and the waiters working under him, and then he also retreated.

"Are you a supernatural?!" The Young Woman leaned in close, sizing Tevan up from top to bottom. "Do you know magic? Superpowers? Or something else?!"

"Sister, please calm down. Magic is what Hogwarts is good at. Teacher probably isn't proficient in it either, so he never taught me."

The last bit of instinctive doubt in the Young Woman's heart vanished. Excitedly, she tried to grab Tevan's right hand.

Tevan seemed reluctant to have physical contact with others and took a step back to avoid her.

She didn't mind and asked excitedly, "Mr. Tevan, can I learn magic?"

"Uh, you'd have to ask Hogwarts about that. If you have enough talent, Headmaster Dumbledore will take you in. Oh, but you'll have to wait until next year; this year's enrollment season has already ended."

"No, no, no. If it weren't for you, I'd probably go, but now that you're here, I don't want to learn magic." The Young Woman shook her head repeatedly and then asked, "What is our Russian magic?"

"Russia has no mag—"

"Sorry, sorry, I should say, what are you learning?"

"Arts."

Tevan's answer was beyond the Young Woman's understanding. Her face was blank. "Arts?"

"Huh, you don't know?"

"Why would I know?"

"When I was lost in the city today, I saw many Spirit Art shops. You should be very familiar with them."

"You've misunderstood a bit; those are scams."

"Ah? Scams? The witches inside are also..."

"Also scams!" the Young Woman said loudly, waving her hand. "Forget about those for now. Look at my talent—can I learn Arts?"

"I don't know how to appraise talent. You'd have to find the teacher at Seventeen."

"Then where is Seventeen..."

The closed bar door was pushed open a crack, and Farid's head peeked in. "Mr. Tevan, our President wishes to speak with you. Don't worry about being lost or Seventeen; we will help you find it."

"Really?!"

"Of course."

"That's great!" Tevan happily stuffed his staff back into his sleeve and said to the Young Woman, "I'm leaving now. Thank you for your kindness, sister. I hope we meet again someday."

Under the Young Woman's regretful gaze, the youth's figure walked out the door.

...

Kremlin Palace.

The President and his Aide were seated around a conference table.

"Perhaps it would show more sincerity if I went to greet him personally?" The President sat in the main seat, leaning back against the chair, his index finger tapping the table.

The Aides on either side expressed their opinions.

"It's just an unconfirmed report. It would be better to wait until it's verified before going."

"Exactly. If it turns out to be a false report, it would be a very heavy blow to our country's international reputation. Other countries will say, 'Look, you're so desperate for the supernatural that you've lost your minds.'"

As the Aides analyzed one by one, the President's hands, which were pressing on the armrests preparing to stand up, slowly relaxed.

International reputation was something that was both important and not so important, but to say it was useless would be wrong; at certain times, it could play a key role.

With these concerns in mind, the President's firm intention to go and meet the person also began to waver.

The analogy didn't quite fit here, but the meaning was similar.

If you are stingy with your help when others are in trouble, there's no point in helping once they've recovered.

Even if they accept your gift, they won't feel grateful to you."

The Aides looked at each other, thinking there was some truth to those words.

But the problem remained: what if the news was wrong?

The Security Bureau had only received a call from a citizen saying, "A youth who seems to have special powers has appeared in a bar."

Just that one sentence, nothing else—not even a basic photo or video. How could anyone believe it?

Therefore, compared to the youth actually being a supernatural, the Aides were more inclined to believe it was just a prank by some bored person.

"Mr. President, I think..."

*Knock knock—* The conference room door was knocked.

The President knew there was only one reason his secretary would interrupt his meeting at this time.

Rising instinctively, he said with some excitement, "Come in!"

Seeing the President's unusual behavior, the Aides seemed to sense something and all turned their heads to look at the secretary who pushed the door open.

"Farid reports that the news of the youth being a supernatural has been confirmed, and he is one of our own. He is bringing the person to the Kremlin Palace. Additionally, Farid said the youth was initially unwilling to contact him. To show sincerity, he lied without your consent, claiming you wanted to meet the youth. He hopes for your understanding and that you will receive the youth."

"That idiot!" the President cursed angrily. "Does he think I'm so arrogant that I can't distinguish the gravity of the situation?! Prepare the car; we're going to meet them!"

The President moved swiftly, immediately heading for the parking lot.

But before he reached it, he saw from a distance a black sedan, escorted by camouflage jeeps, driving through the main gate of the Kremlin Palace.

He slapped his thigh hard, regretting why he had hesitated, thereby wasting time.

He would just have to do his best to make amends.

Consoling himself, he took a deep breath, regained his usual composure, and walked toward the parking lot.

The youth had already stepped out of the car door opened by Farid.

The President approached. "Hello, Mr. Tevan. Welcome to the Kremlin Palace."

"Hello, Mr. President." Tevan bowed slightly with great politeness. Upon straightening up, he looked around at the cars. "Mr. Farid said someone would help me find Seventeen. Where... where is the person who's going to help?"

Seventeen? What was that? An address?

Was there even such an address?

The reason why the President supposedly wanted to meet Tevan and help him find Seventeen was something Farid had come up with in his haste while setting up the cordon outside the bar.

Supernaturals all possessed some ability to move quickly between locations. Farid was worried Tevan would use magic to leave, so he had done what he had to.

Time was tight, and he hadn't had time to explain much; he could only report the key points.

So the President didn't know Tevan was looking for Seventeen, which was why he was confused.

However, his reaction was very quick. After only a few seconds of hesitation, he said with a smile, "Please rest assured, Mr. Tevan. As long as Seventeen is in Mosco, I will definitely help you find it."

"Thank you very much. Teacher taught me to be grateful. Is there anything I can do to repay you?"

Who would have thought their own supernatural would be such a simple and innocent child.

The President felt comforted, speaking as if to his own son, "I'll just call you Tevan. Come, let's go over here to talk."

The group arrived at the conference room. The President broke the rule against dining in the conference room and ordered the kitchen to send in dinner.

"Let's eat and talk."

Tevan, having been lost all day, was indeed famished. After thanking them, he picked up a knife and fork.

"Tevan, this Seventeen you're looking for is..."

"It's a classroom. Teacher said I'll be having classes at Seventeen from now on."

The President and the Aides keenly caught the keyword "Teacher."

One Aide asked softly, "Are there many students having classes there?"

"Well, probably. Teacher is the founder of Seventeen. He said I would meet many companions there."

It's an organization, not an individual!

Everyone's spirits were lifted. Farid, sitting at the end of the table, was even less interested in food and simply placed his knife and fork on the table. "Can we go visit?"

"I'm not sure. I have to find it first and ask the teacher inside."

"Then we'll go look for it once you're full."

Hearing this, Tevan dropped his knife and fork. "I'm full. Let's go now!"

This move was exactly what everyone wanted.

The President didn't delay for a second, ordering the entire Security Bureau to mobilize and search Mosco for a classroom called "Seventeen."

Paper documents were quickly delivered to the relevant personnel.

Farid hadn't made the news about Tevan public, so these people had only just found out.

Their current feelings were complex beyond words.

There was the excitement that the long-awaited supernatural had finally appeared, the exhilaration of personally experiencing a supernatural event, and the joy that the whole of Russia would be celebrating once the news was released.

What else was there to say?

Get to work!