Chapter 104

An unprecedented chill swept through the comic's will. He looked at the black-haired young man in front of him who led him to remember this sentence, and suddenly felt that he had never known him before.

"What’s wrong with you?"

The warden with long black hair tilted his head slightly, with a faint smile on his lips, which made people unable to help but take a closer look. In a trance, they felt that he was friendly and gentle, but at the same time, their intuition was buzzing, and they were frantically issuing warnings in the back of their heads.

"...Nothing." Comic Will came back to his senses and said cautiously, "I just think you're a little different than before."

But it couldn't tell what was different, it just felt something was wrong.

Fortunately, the contract partner did not argue with it on this matter, but continued to look through something.

"This is..." Manga Will was a little surprised: "Information about the Patrol Tower?"

The sense of danger the black-haired young man had previously brought to Comic Will had completely subsided, as if everything that had just happened was just Comic Will's illusion. Hearing Comic Will's question, he spoke calmly and patiently:

"Although the Federation and the Patrol Tower had a grudge, the Federation was at least an excellent barrier separating Eastwood and the Patrol Tower. But now, the Federation no longer exists."

He spoke at a leisurely pace, "It's true that the Patrol Tower isn't as seething with public discontent as the Alliance. With so many gifted individuals, their methods are far more sophisticated, and their actions are far more covert. If someone else had overthrown the Federation, they might have waited and watched for a while—"

But the problem is that the current human leader is named Shazo Freeman.

Freeman has a grudge against Picket Tower.

Whether in the past or in the present, ancestors or descendants, Picket Tower was certain that Fremen hated them to the core.

So will they just sit there and wait for death?

Obviously not possible.

Even though he knew that all of this might be seen by his contractors, Manga Will became a little nervous: "My current power is not enough to observe their tactics and trump cards. You must be careful."

After all, Picket Tower, like Crest, has a heritage spanning millennia. While not as savvy in management as the Crest family, and perhaps not as rich in foundation as Crest during its heyday, its continued existence to this day, and its scale, clearly indicates significant leverage.

However, the Federation was too corrupt and bloated, and a large amount of funds and resources were spent on extremely resource-intensive human experiments, which is why it was overthrown within a year.

"Don't worry. Other factions can find ways to plant spies in Isvetri, and Isvetri certainly has spies sent to other factions."

The dark-haired young warden raised the corner of his lips imperceptibly: "Patrol Tower..."

He omitted the unfinished words. Just as the comic's will was scratching its head, wanting to humbly ask again, it saw the black-haired young man blinking for the first time in a long time: "Is my vacation enough? Send me back to reality."

"……ah?"

It had been so long since he had heard the black-haired young man's request that the Comic Will was stunned for a moment: "But didn't you just say that there was a conspiracy in the patrol tower? Don't you need to keep an eye on it here?"

Xizel smiled and said patiently, "They still need some time to prepare."

Comic Will: "..."

You said this as if you were just waiting for them to start their plan.

After counting his limited energy balance and thinking about how many days it had been since his contract partner came home, the comic will gritted its teeth and said, "Okay!"

Isn’t it just sending the contractor back? It can afford it!

...Also, there is one thing it wants the contractor to help it with.

…

…

Real world.

When Xizel woke up, it was already late at night.

The intelligent AI in the manor sensed his presence and instantly turned on the night light in the room, emitting a soft but non-glaring light.

The black-haired young man sat up and lowered his head slightly, and saw that his hair had grown a lot longer.

He didn't care. He casually tied them into a ponytail at the back of his head, changed his clothes, and then sat at the desk to look through the communication records given to him by AI.

The comic will fell into a deep sleep for the time being, and it would probably take several hours for him to wake up. Now his brain was very quiet, which was very suitable for thinking and processing things.

During his absence, Dr. John sent him two contact requests.

The black-haired young man didn't like face-to-face video calls with others, and Dr. John knew his habit, so all the calls he sent were just phone calls. But the problem was, before he left, he told Dr. John that there was no need to contact him.

Xizel lowered his eyes slightly and glanced at the current time.

1:34.

He called Dr. John's assistant directly.

Normally, the ringing of the phone in the middle of the night would be extremely annoying, and not everyone would answer it immediately. But the moment the ringing sounded, the person on the other end picked up the phone in seconds.

"Hello," the black-haired young man spoke immediately, but he did not seem panicked. Even through the phone, he was able to give people a surprisingly calm and gentle feeling. "Excuse me, Doctor John, is there anything wrong?"

On the other side, the assistant, who hadn't slept for days, heard this voice and inexplicably suppressed the anxiety, fatigue, and panic in his heart. He took a deep breath and said in a hoarse voice, "Doctor John has a rare acute illness... There is currently no medical treatment... He has been in a coma all day and was not fully conscious for the past two days. He sent you a communication request while he was half asleep..."

The black-haired young man did not speak.

There was silence on the communication channel.

The assistant sniffed, hesitated, and continued, "I know you may be busy, but could you come over and take another look at him? You know, Dr. John doesn't have many relatives, and the only thing he may be thinking about is you-"

"I have arrived."

"……ah?"

The assistant who was standing on the balcony and trying to persuade them was stunned. Then he suddenly realized what was happening and looked down from the balcony window.

She saw an obviously modified gray sports car parked below the hospital building. Then the door opened and a tall figure appeared in her sight.

The next moment, the young man with tied black hair raised his head sharply and looked straight at the assistant's position.

The assistant was startled.

If she hadn't guessed that this might be Crest who had rushed over, and the black-haired young man's body proportions were too superior, she would even think it was a scene from a horror movie.

After all, that straight gaze made people subconsciously feel a chill on their backs before they could see clearly.

She reacted, rubbed her arms, and ran out of the ward quickly to pick up the black-haired young man.

Then I met Kleist at the stairs.

assistant:"……"

Looking at the other person's long legs and his face that showed no sign of fatigue at all, she looked stunned.

The series of events that happened tonight were so strange that she could hardly keep her sadness under control.

Isn't Crest sickly? Didn't he say his condition had worsened a while ago? How come her steps were so fast, even faster than an elevator? She got up in the blink of an eye?

And he didn't seem to ask himself which hospital and which room Dr. John was in... How did he find him here?

The more he thought about it, the more weird it seemed. Noticing the current time, the assistant swallowed hard.

...Could it be that Crest is already dead and has become a ghost?

However, Crest's usual style is not that of someone who would drive a sports car on the road casually and attract too much attention. Although there are not many pedestrians on the road late at night, it can be seen that he is indeed concerned about Dr. John's safety, so he gave up keeping a low profile and instead pursued speed.

She felt more at ease and followed the black-haired young man into the ward.

Dr. John is very famous in the medical community. When this disease was first detected, a group of experts surrounded him every day, and meetings on this disease were held one after another in the conference room.

Later, Dr. John told them not to waste their efforts, so he left only his assistant with him and decided to let nature take its course.

It was also at this time that he sent the first communication request to Kleist.

The curtains were not drawn tightly, and the moonlight enveloped the old man lying on the bed.

Although we hadn't seen each other for a short while, his body seemed to have aged rapidly as if it had gone through several years, and his face turned pale due to the torture of illness.

The assistant's heart tightened again when he saw this scene, and he said dejectedly: "Doctor John..."

“……?”

"What are you doing?"

She opened her eyes wide and looked at the scene in disbelief.

Under the pouring moonlight, the originally jet-black hair seemed to turn into holy silver, and also cast a layer of hazy soft light on the side of the young man in front of the bed.

He lowered his head slightly, half-closed his eyes, and some hair fell on his forehead, allowing people to follow the hair down and see the young man's slender right hand with distinct joints.

And now, the young man's right fingertips were pressing lightly on the brow of the old man who was already full of lifeless energy.

The assistant couldn't help but hold his breath.

Even though she saw nothing, the scene before her under the moonlight was astonishingly beautiful and sacred, as if a god had come from outer space on the moon, descended to the world, and relieved all the suffering of those he favored.

No one wanted to disturb this scene.

Even breathing felt like blasphemy.

It seemed like just a moment, yet it also seemed like a long time had passed before the black-haired young man withdrew his hand and smiled at her.

The assistant was once again frozen in place by this smile. When she came to her senses, she and Dr. John were the only ones left in the ward. It was as if everything that had just happened was just a dream she had because she was too tired.

No one saw the faint golden light from under Dr. John's brow dissipate and turn into a flash of green light representing vitality.

…

The comic will woke up and felt refreshed.

It found that the black-haired young man was sitting in a gray sports car, driven by his AI, while he opened the window and looked out the window casually.

"What are you doing?"

It asked curiously.

The black-haired young man tilted his head and said calmly, "I couldn't sleep, so I came out for a walk."

Comic Will:?