In the morning, Queens District, near Vientiane Book Cafe.
Coulson was alone, driving his favorite red antique car - Lola. As he slowly drove into the streets, he sat in the driver's seat, while the passenger seat held some documents.
Touching his earphones, Coulson said in a deep voice, "I've entered the street and am about to arrive near our destination."
A voice came from the headset, "Sir, the positioning system has been turned on and is currently operating normally."
"Okay, report any abnormal situations as soon as possible," Coulson replied, adding, "In case of losing contact, do not take any action and continue to maintain the current status."
"Understood, sir," came the affirmative reply.
Coulson searched for the location of Vientiane Book Cafe. Unfortunately, everything seemed normal, with every shop on the street operating as usual, but Vientiane Book Cafe was nowhere to be found.
He couldn't find it.
Creating a shop out of thin air was one thing, but the absence of any traces at all made the street seem normal, creating a conflict between memory and reality that felt inexplicably weird to Coulson.
Observing carefully, Coulson picked up the documents from the passenger side and stepped out of the car helplessly.
Then, standing at the edge of the street, he closed his eyes, reached out to touch the wall, and walked step by step according to his memory of the street scene.
After special training, he could control the distance of each step and maintain direction accurately.
One step, two steps... step 56.
Step 57 should reach the door. After taking another step, Coulson opened his eyes.
He was standing in front of a cake shop, the aroma wafting out. He sighed helplessly.
So many agents had failed, why would he succeed?
Returning to his antique car, he stood quietly, motionless, always paying attention to changes in the surrounding environment.
After a while, Coulson noticed a handsome young man in a short-sleeved shirt walking toward him.
Instantly wary, Coulson realized he had no recollection of this person.
"Hello, are you Mr. Coulson?" Ian looked at Coulson, examining his thinning hair and comparing it to the bald spot his teacher mentioned, asking affirmatively.
He was the only bald person standing still on this street, so Ian felt sure.
Feeling Ian's gaze, Coulson touched his head subconsciously, and the corners of his mouth twitched involuntarily.
Had baldness become his symbol?
Nevertheless, he nodded. "Yes, I am Phil Coulson. Who are you?"
"I am Ian Norton, a student of Teacher Lockhart," Ian said calmly. "My teacher asked me to pick you up and bring you into the book cafe."
Hearing Ian's reference to Lockhart, Coulson's eyes showed contemplation before he nodded. "Okay, please."
Ian took out a dark card with light golden lines and handed it to Coulson. "Mr. Coulson, as you are an ordinary Muggle, you can't find or enter the Vientiane Book Cafe. But this magic card has a spell cast on it, allowing you to enter."
Coulson nodded, taking the card from Ian. The card exuded an inexplicable sense of luxury, with a frosted texture and an internal fluctuation that felt very comfortable. Its surface was pitch black with light golden lines forming a strange pattern, and in the middle were light golden words - Vientiane Book Cafe, accompanied by a slowly moving golden dragon.
Suddenly, Coulson thought he saw a similar golden dragon pattern on Ian's arm with some words. But upon closer inspection, there was nothing. He wondered if he had been mistaken.
Ian waited patiently, aware of Coulson's observations. He had learned a lot about Muggles, especially Muggle agents, through movies and knew not to underestimate them.
Perhaps sensing Ian's gaze, Coulson gave a gentle smile.
He labeled Ian's behavior as patient. Ian's lack of impatience, even after Coulson's lengthy examination of the card, spoke volumes.
Patience is a hallmark of those who achieve great things.
Coulson looked at Ian, his eyes showing gentleness and friendliness.
Suddenly, he looked past Ian to the street in the distance.
He saw Vientiane Book Cafe, still in its original position, but the facade had changed dramatically. The original white walls were now silvery white, clear as jade, with dark blue lines emerging or flowing inside. The windows had disappeared, and the plaque on top was pitch black, matching the card in his hand. It seemed there was a connection between the two.
Subconsciously pinching the card, Coulson followed Ian to the store.
This time, he successfully entered the Vientiane Book Cafe. Upon opening the door, he was shocked.
The inside was extremely spacious, at least three or four times larger than before. The environment felt very comfortable, relaxing him as if soaking in a hot spring.
To his surprise, there were scattered people in yellow sorcerer robes, each holding a ring, reading books or chatting. Trying to remember their faces, Coulson realized they must be wizards or sorcerers like Lockhart. Ordinary people couldn't enter here.
He attempted to listen to their conversations, but for some reason, he could only see their mouths moving, with no sound at all. It was eerily quiet.
"Mr. Coulson, the teacher is waiting for you in the study," Ian smiled, reminding him.
Aware of Coulson's behavior, Ian wasn't bothered. In the wizarding world, Muggles accessing wizarding information was taboo. He had been reassured by his instructor to put aside all doubts.
"Okay, let's go see Professor Lockhart," Coulson said, looking at Ian with regret.
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