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.
"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 giving warnings in the back of their heads.
"...Nothing." Comic Will came back to his senses and said cautiously, "I just feel that you are a little different from 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..." The comic mind was a little surprised: "Information about the patrol tower?"
The sense of danger that the black-haired young man had brought to the comic will had been completely restrained, as if everything just now was just an illusion of the comic will. When he heard the comic will's question, he said calmly and kindly:
"Although the Federation and the Picket Tower have a grudge, the Federation is at least an excellent barrier between Eastwood and the Picket Tower. But now, the Federation no longer exists."
He spoke at a leisurely pace: "It is true that the Patrol Tower is not as full of public resentment as the Alliance. With so many gifted people, they are much more sophisticated and their actions are much more secretive. If someone else overthrew the Federation, they might wait and see for a while—"
But the problem is that the current human leader is named Xia Zuo Freeman.
Freeman has a grudge against the picket tower.
Whether in the past or in the present, ancestors or descendants, Picket Tower was sure 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 contractor, the comic will became a little nervous: "My current power is not enough to observe their methods and trump cards. You must be careful."
After all, like the Crest, the Picket Tower has been passed down for thousands of years. Although it is not as good at business as the Crest family, and its foundation in its heyday is not as rich as that of the Crest, it is possible that it has continued to this day and has grown to this scale. Obviously, it has a trump card that cannot be underestimated.
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 forces can find ways to plant spies in Isvet, and Isvet certainly has spies sent to other forces."
The black-haired young warden raised the corner of his lips imperceptibly: "Patrol Tower..."
He left out the unfinished words. Just as the comic book was scratching its head and wanted to ask again humbly, it saw the black-haired young man blinking his eyes after a long absence: "Is my vacation enough? Send me back to reality."
"……ah?"
It had been too long since I heard the black-haired young man's request, and the comic will was stunned for a moment: "But didn't you just say that there was a conspiracy in the picket 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 the plan.
After counting the few remaining energies he had, 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 more 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, non-glaring light.
The black-haired young man sat up, 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 behind his head, changed his clothes, and then sat at his desk to look through the communication records given to him by AI.
The comic will fell into a deep sleep temporarily, and it might take several hours for him to wake up. Now his brain is very quiet, which is 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 messages he sent were just phone calls. But the problem was that before he left, he told Dr. John that he didn't 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 is extremely annoying, and not everyone will answer it immediately. But the moment the ringing sounded, the other party picked up the phone in seconds.
"Hello," the black-haired young man spoke immediately, but he did not seem flustered. Even through the phone, he could unexpectedly give people a calm and gentle feeling. "Excuse me, Doctor John, is there anything wrong?"
On the other side, the assistant who hadn't slept for a few days heard this voice, and the anxiety, fatigue and panic in his heart were inexplicably suppressed. He took a deep breath and said in a hoarse voice: "Doctor John has a rare acute disease... There is currently no treatment in the medical community... He has been in a coma for a whole day, and his consciousness was not clear in the past two days. He sent you a communication request while he was half asleep and half awake..."
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 can 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 him was stunned, then suddenly reacted and looked down from the balcony window -
She saw an obviously modified grey sports car parked below the hospital building. 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 was expressionless.
The series of events that happened tonight were so strange that she could hardly keep her sad mood under control.
Isn't Crest sick? Didn't he say his condition had worsened some time ago? How come her feet were so fast, even faster than an elevator, and she came up in the blink of an eye?
And he didn’t seem to ask himself which room in which hospital Dr. John was in…how did he find him?
The more he thought about it, the more weird it seemed. Noting the current time, the assistant swallowed hard.
...Could it be that Crest is already dead and has turned into a ghost?
However, Crest's usual style is not that of a person who would casually drive a sports car on the road and attract too much attention. Although it is late at night and there are not many pedestrians on the road, it can also be shown 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 gathered around 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.
In just a short period of time, his body seemed to have gone through several years and aged rapidly, his face turned pale due to the torture of illness.
The assistant was heartbroken when he saw this scene, and said in a low voice: "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 fingertips of the young man's right hand were pressing lightly on the center of the brow of the old man who already looked lifeless.
The assistant couldn't help but hold his breath.
Even though she saw nothing, the scene before her under the moonlight was incredibly beautiful and sacred, as if a god had come from outer space on the moon, descended to the world, and relieved all the sufferings of those he favored.
No one would want to disturb this scene.
Even breathing felt like blasphemy.
It seemed like just a moment, but also 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:?