Nakajima Atsushi's brain crashed.

He was like an ordinary person who suddenly won 10 million US dollars. He was dizzy with his incredible luck and felt that life was so unreal that even the picture in front of him was temporarily distorted.

"Me, me? Really, really, I didn't recognize the wrong person?" He couldn't even speak clearly and was in a state of shock.

It was too sudden! Nakajima Atsushi shouted in his heart. His performance just now would definitely lose a lot of points in front of Mr. Dahl. He would definitely make the other party feel that he had chosen the wrong person.

Should I just refuse it directly? What if Mr. Dahl changes his mind later? Damn it, no matter whether it is true or not, his performance just now was too bad, Nakajima Atsushi kept repeating to himself.

"Nakajima-kun's reaction is cute." The man's smiling tone made Nakajima Atsushi's face turn even redder in an instant.

Did he just say it? Nakajima Atsushi's face flushed, but when he saw that the smile in Roald Dahl's eyes was completely harmless and there was no trace of ridicule towards him, he somehow relaxed.

But what Roald Dahl had just said still made him unable to calm down completely for the time being. After all, anyone here would feel like they were dreaming if they suddenly found out that they had become the heir to a large chain of candy companies.

The same was true for Nakajima Atsushi. Even though his intelligence told him that what Roald Dahl said was true and the man's words were not a joke at all, Nakajima Atsushi still didn't know how to react no matter what.

He subconsciously wanted to turn around and look in the direction of Dazai Osamu, but the young man in the light-colored windbreaker was observing the situation of the mafia and could not see Nakajima Atsushi's eyes asking for help.

Under the man's gaze, Nakajima Atsushi reluctantly turned his head and met Roald Dahl's smiling caramel eyes. He became completely embarrassed.

"This, this is really, really, no..."

Nakajima Atsushi wanted to say that this was probably inappropriate, but whether to accept or refuse, under the man's expectant eyes and the pull of reason, he seemed unable to say it. He could only lower his head and pretend that the hem of his clothes and his fingers suddenly showed some fatal attraction to him.

"Dun, I can call you that. You don't have to answer me right away. Your opinion comes first. I don't mean to force you."

Perhaps seeing Nakajima Atsushi's confusion and embarrassment, the man adjusted the way he addressed him and spoke very considerately, gently rubbing the white-haired boy's hair.

Although this kind of comforting method might seem like treating him as a child at his age, Nakajima Atsushi was still comforted and finally seemed to calm down a little.

[I’m so jealous of Mudun. I also want to get rich overnight, wuwuwu]

[Where can I find a philanthropist like Mr. Dahl? I don’t ask for much, just give me a workshop (doge)]

[So anxious, Dun Dun, please agree quickly, you will be the next billionaire]

[But why did you choose Nakajima Atsushi? When I first watched it, I never thought he would win.]

[If it was because the other teams were eliminated that they chose Shima Atsushi, it would be too hasty]

[That is to say, I am not saying that Atsushi is bad, but this selection method is really vague]

Obviously, the doubts raised by the barrage are also the doubts raised by Nakajima Atsushi. As the person questioned by the barrage, although Nakajima Atsushi cannot see the barrage, he also has similar thoughts.

His experiences since childhood have made him often doubt whether he is qualified to do something, or it can be said that it is difficult for a child who grows up in such an environment to be confident.

The glass elevator was still rising slowly. No one spoke for a while, and there was only the sound of tracks and gears. However, due to the special craftsmanship used to make the glass, it had excellent sound insulation effect, and only a few slight sounds could be transmitted in.

It was really too quiet. Nakajima Atsushi kept looking in the direction of Roald Dahl. He seemed to be hesitant to say something, and he looked cute as he looked around.

After a while, perhaps curiosity overwhelmed his shyness and other emotions, so he finally couldn't help but ask Roald Dahl.

"Mr. Dale, that..."

Nakajima Atsushi looked very hesitant. He didn't know whether he should ask this question at this moment, but he really felt incredible that he could stand out from other groups.

"May I ask why you chose me? Maybe, maybe..." Maybe I was mistaken? Nakajima Atsushi thought so many times during the time he was ascending in the glass elevator, but questioning Roald Dahl's thoughts and decisions seemed to be impolite in itself.

The white-haired boy's voice became quieter and quieter. He lowered his head and fiddled with the hem of his clothes. He looked extremely nervous and unconfident.

However, the man standing opposite Nakajima Atsushi did not show any sign of being offended by the question, but instead became even more gentle.

"I think, maybe, maybe I'm not good enough." Nakajima Atsushi didn't wait for a reply, so he carefully raised his head and said hesitantly.

After hearing his words, the man who had been keeping a very calm expression suddenly frowned.

Seeing this, Nakajima Atsushi immediately thought that his words had annoyed Roald Dahl, and he frantically tried to explain before he could be scolded. However, this time he did not hear any words that could be called blame as he remembered in the past.

"Don't be so unsure of yourself, Atsushi." The man in the maroon lavender velvet tuxedo spoke calmly as always, but the familiar sense of leap in his voice lifted Nakajima Atsushi's mood from its low point.

"You have done a good job, or you have done enough in the things you just did."

"Let's not talk about the fact that I personally believe that luck itself is a part of strength. Whether it was resisting temptation in the workshop before and following my instructions instead of acting on your own, or jumping down decisively for your companions just now, it is enough for me to think that you have the qualifications to inherit my career."

Roald Dahl's words made Nakajima Atsushi freeze in his tracks. He had almost never received such detailed praise from others about himself rather than his supernatural powers.

The tips of his ears turned redder even faster than before. Nakajima Atsushi couldn't see the color of his cheeks, but he was sure that they were even redder and hotter than before. If it were in an American comic with exaggerated techniques, his ears would probably have been smoking.

"Eh, eh, I, I actually..." Nakajima Atsushi spoke incoherently, words that he himself could hardly organize. The shyness of being praised made it difficult for him to utter a coherent sentence.

Perhaps he himself did not realize that after hearing such praise, the curve of his mouth had become very bright.

[I told you, Mr. Dahl definitely has his own judgment]

[Now that I understand why Nakajima Atsushi was chosen, Atsushi is a really good kid]

[Dun is definitely a little angel, a little angel. The universe loves Dun Dun the most. The child had a very hard time when he was little. This time, the hardship will finally pay off.]

[It really hurts to see Dun doubting himself. Mr. Dale is so kind. It’s so heartwarming to see them interacting]

[Yes, a funny, reliable, and flattering adult male, I love her so much, okay]

"All of them, really?" Nakajima Atsushi came back to his senses from the joy of being praised. Perhaps Roald Dahl's previous words gave him some encouragement. His tone became more confident, but his cheeks were still flushed.

The man took off his chocolate-colored hat, which made him look more approachable, and said with a smile, "Of course."

The director of the candy factory in a tuxedo leaned slightly towards the white-haired boy and put his arm around Nakajima Atsushi's shoulders. His tone of voice still had the leaping feeling of an antelope, but Nakajima Atsushi could feel the seriousness in it.

"Dun is a victor born under the witness of me and my Lord. This is a promise I made under the guarantee of the Lord, so I will not regret it no matter what. Moreover, I am very satisfied with Dun."

Nakajima Atsushi's mood suddenly became high. He was always very sensitive to other people's emotions, and at this moment he could clearly feel that he was loved by Roald Dahl. This pure positive emotion made him feel happy.

Some of the shadows seem to be gradually dissipating.

But the words like "God" mentioned in the man's words still made him curious.

"Mr. Dale, may I ask who is the Lord God you are talking about?"

The orphanage where Nakajima Atsushi lived as a child was once a church. There were many books about gods in the orphanage's utility room, which made him a little curious about religion.

"Well," the man who was stroking his goat-like beard said in a long tone, maliciously keeping the little tiger in suspense in the face of his curious eyes, "If Dun is willing to be my heir, he will naturally know."

"Eh?" Nakajima Atsushi opened his mouth but didn't know what to say. Although he was not good at thinking about complex problems, Nakajima Atsushi intuitively felt that he might not treat this matter too carelessly.

And if we inherit Mr. Dahl's factory, there's no way we won't have to do anything afterwards, Nakajima Atsushi thought. He wanted to continue asking some questions, but the elevator had already stopped rising.

They had already arrived at their destination. Seeing this, Nakajima Atsushi swallowed his questions and followed Roald Dahl and Dazai Osamu out of the glass elevator.

It was a brightly lit space with almost an entire wall made of huge transparent glass, and the artificial daylight that seemed unusually bright to Nakajima Atsushi was projected in from there.

"Infirmary?" When he walked into the room, Nakajima Atsushi noticed a small sign at the door that looked exactly like the nameplates of the workshops he had seen before, and it clearly said Infirmary.

But no matter how Nakajima Atsushi observed, he couldn't connect this warmly decorated room with the one that was always covered in white. It was just like a kindergarten.

Several beds of different sizes are neatly placed together. The quilts and sheets are in bright colors and decorated with cute graffiti prints. No matter from which angle, children will love them.

In fact, they could still tell that this was the infirmary. A short Oompa-Loompa dressed as a doctor was already standing behind a pink desk, waiting for them respectfully.

Nakajima Atsushi noticed that although his outer clothes were also mainly white, there were a dozen very cute stickers exposed from the pockets of his clothes, which seemed to be Rainbow Pony patterns.

This totally looks like a children's hospital, Nakajima Atsushi complained in his mind.

However, I have to say that the decoration of the infirmary is indeed very relaxing. The soft cushions, the warm sofa and a soft, springy carpet that even exudes a sweet smell occupy the rest of the room.

After walking in, Nakajima Atsushi discovered that the fillings or surface coverings of these fluffy and soft furniture were all silky candies that were not easy to melt. No wonder they all exuded a pleasant sweet smell.

"Let's settle our guest." Roald Dahl easily carried Nakahara Chuuya and called the young man, who had consumed too much energy and strength and was still in a coma, to the hands of the Oompa-Loompa people.

At first, Nakajima Atsushi was worried about whether the Oompa-Loompa nurses, who were much shorter than Nakahara Chuuya, could catch the mafia safely, but he soon discovered that these small special people seemed to have great strength.

The unconscious Port Mafia officer was quickly loaded onto a stretcher by these Oompa-Loompa doctors and nurses and transferred to a suitable ward in an expertly trained manner.

"I have to go check out some other places first. Why don't you two take a rest here? It was too thrilling just now, wasn't it?" The man led them to the sofa in a friendly manner. The fluffy marshmallow sofa looked very soft. "If you need anything, press this bell and someone will provide you with hot chocolate and some special afternoon tea."

"Okay, okay."

Nodding quickly, Nakajima Atsushi agreed repeatedly. He really needed to think carefully about the man's previous words when Roald Dahl was not around. Otherwise, if he was in front of Mr. Dahl, Nakajima Atsushi was sure that he would not be able to resist the man's expectant gaze and agreed to the request.

Dazai Osamu did not object, or maybe he was just thinking about something.

What?

Nakajima Atsushi could sense that Dazai Osamu was not thinking about Roald Dahl's announcement that he was the heir, because Dazai Osamu seemed to be feeling unwell before he woke up.

This also made him think of those seemingly plausible words that Dazai Osamu had said before. Could it be that something that he couldn't see really appeared in that dark world before? Nakajima Atsushi was not sure, but his instinct suppressed his curiosity and warned him not to continue to delve into it.

But when Roald Dahl walked out of the door, the young man in the light-colored windbreaker seemed to have suddenly regained his energy, and jumped onto the soft sofa first like a fish.

The huge Dazai Osamu instantly occupied the entire sofa, forcing Nakajima Atsushi, who was about to sit down, to stop what he was doing.

"Mr. Dazai, please at least leave some room for me!" Nakajima Atsushi complained helplessly. He usually had no way to deal with Dazai Osamu's occasional willful behavior.

"Okay, okay, come and sit down, Don."

Nakajima Atsushi was ready to go to another mat to rest, but he didn't expect that Dazai Osamu would be unexpectedly easy to talk to this time.

The young man in the light-colored windbreaker moved out of the way like some kind of giant caterpillar, and Nakajima Atsushi sat down without knowing why. He even became wary of Dazai Osamu's attitude.

"Then thank you, Mr. Dazai?" Nakajima Atsushi thanked him with a hint of doubt, because Dazai Osamu was so good at not making trouble that he was surprised to forget that he didn't need to be thanked.

"What does Dun think?"

When Nakajima Atsushi was brought to sit down, he suddenly heard a question from Dazai Osamu. It was a casual question in the tone, but Nakajima Atsushi took it seriously.

************

Roald Dahl walked through the corridor of the infirmary. Because it was located next to a cotton field that specialized in growing cotton candy, and almost all cotton fabrics were made from the fruits of those strange cottons, even in a place like a hospital, there was a sweet smell in the air.

The lights in the corridor were a warm yellow color. Perhaps because people didn't come here often, not many lights were turned on, making the light a little dim. Under the cover of his top hat, the man's face seemed to be shrouded in a shadow.

In fact, if you want, there is no need to control Roald Dahl to walk. After all, the entire factory was built by him, and it is easy to adjust the position at will. Everything is just for the audience behind the bullet screen to watch.

[The smell of conspiracy/bushi]

[I feel like Mr. Dahl has a villain vibe.]

[By the way, Gin and the others seemed to have been led in this direction before. Is Mr. Dale going to the ward to see Gin and the others?]

[It feels like that. I wonder if Mr. Dahl will restore Defoe and Gin to their original state.]

[I really want it, I don’t want the handsome guy to become an old man or anything like that]

As the comments suggested, Roald Dahl's target was indeed in the direction of the ward.

It would be enough to simply warn those who did something tricky with aging syrup, Haiyinsi Suyou thought with amusement.

As soon as he opened the door, he was stared at by three people. Without exception, their looks were filled with jealousy and hostility.

Seeing this, Kaionji Suyou missed Nakajima Atsushi in his heart. Apart from the group of Edogawa Conan and Mao Li Ran, Nakajima Atsushi could be said to be the most innocent child among them.

Greedy capitalists, unidentified Russians, mafia and former mafia, clock tower servants and MI6, the identities of the other people present are so unknown that anyone who sees them will have to say there are crouching tigers, hidden dragons.

Although this was expected, I still feel really annoyed when I actually face it, but this fishing drama has to go on.

Grabbing the bag of fish food, Haiyinsi swam upstream to the fish tank with a missing corner and began to feed the red goldfish that always wagged its tail carefree in the glass fish tank, while continuing to play Roald Dahl on the other side.

The man in the purple velvet tuxedo seemed not to notice the icy and almost stagnant atmosphere, nor did he care about other people's jealousy towards him. He still greeted the two "elderly people" who were unfortunately infected with the virus in the same excited tone as when he welcomed them at the factory gate.

By the way, Roald Dahl also paid special attention to the real old man, Conan Doyle, and shook the old detective's hand, shaking his hand up and down. In other words, the person most worthy of his observation in this room was this non-staff member from MI6.

But the real old man's attention did not seem to be entirely on Roald Dahl, but was looking thoughtfully at things outside the window. Like the living room, this place also had a huge transparent glass wall.

From the position of the window, one can clearly see another workshop separated by a glass wall. That is where the raw materials for all the cotton products in this hospital are produced - the fruity cotton field.

It is difficult to describe or estimate in detail how big this cotton field is, because you can't see the distant edges from here. It's as if they extend infinitely to the artificial sun in the distance. There shouldn't be wind indoors, but the cotton still sways as if blown by the breeze and surges like waves.

But there were not many Oompa-Loompas working in such a large cotton field. Most of the work was replaced by some strange-looking machines.

The Oompa-Loompas' attire clearly indicated that they were from an uncivilized primitive society, yet they were able to use machines that even Conan Doyle could not immediately identify their correct purpose.

In this candy factory belonging to the man named Roald Dahl, or in other words, in this man's sweet kingdom, everything seems to follow certain rules that are different from those in the outside world. Even the technology has never appeared on the market.

"It's an honor to meet you three again, an honor, an honor!" The man in a maroon lavender velvet tuxedo waved his cane excitedly, seemingly completely forgetting that they had only been separated for no more than four hours.

"How do you three feel? Is it so sweet that your teeth will fall out? Oh no, I'm afraid these two can't chew it anymore. What a pity, such a pity!"

As if he suddenly remembered something, the man sincerely regretted it and sighed deeply. Although this was obviously a bit inappropriate, the three people present were not the ones to point this out immediately due to their vigilance and hostility.

No one responded to his words, and an awkward silence spread here.

When the machinery in the cotton field passed by the window again, Conan Dahl finally spoke.

The elderly British detective took a step forward and now stood in front of Daniel Defoe, who was supposed to be his bodyguard but was now much older than him, in a protective manner.

The sailor looked at the old detective in surprise, obviously not expecting to see such a move, and touched his pocket awkwardly.

Defoe loosened his hand, but did not continue to look in the direction of the detective. Instead, he glanced again at the silver-haired mafia sitting far away from them. He understood that Gin's purpose was probably the same as theirs.

In a sense, Gin should be the least oppressed person among all the people present.

As an ordinary person without special abilities, Gin will not receive much attention and influence from the entire candy factory. Defoe is different. Although he is not a person who relies solely on special abilities to fight, the above are enough to make him treat Gin with caution.

"Maybe." The old detective answered ambiguously. This might be his last act of grace.

Conan Doyle naturally did not think that Roald Dahl did not see their intentions, and for this reason he did not show much anger at such warnings.

Now that they were only a hair's breadth away from a complete break with Roald Dahl, perhaps the time had come to resolve the issue in secret. Fortunately, they had a backup plan for negotiation, but this was certainly not the outcome the British authorities wanted.

The old detective sighed in his heart. He was being watched thoroughly on someone else's territory. But this time

The difficulty of the mission was expected. After all, this was a mysterious figure that even the entire MI6 could hardly find any information to look up.

"I don't mind," the old detective shrugged and continued. It's true that old people are always experienced. The old man adjusted his mentality quickly and was still elegant. "But I'm afraid it's not the same for these two."

"Don't worry about that. I will definitely bring everyone back safely as promised."

In response to his question, the man opposite answered calmly, as if he had everything planned out.

He took out a transparent test tube from his pocket. When he saw the contents of the test tube clearly, some things floating in the air seemed to change in an instant.

Conan Doyle's breathing slowed down, and the old detective, who had been leaning against the back of the chair, straightened up a little. Although the sailor had lost some of his agility due to aging, he still instinctively made a posture suitable for immediate attack. At the same time, the equally "unlucky" Gin touched the cold barrel of the gun hidden under his clothes.

The three people had different thoughts, but their eyes were fixed on the small test tube, as if they had seen something that was enough to cause a storm in any field at any time.

"Don't worry." The man repeated his words again.

Roald Dahl took off his hat, and a smile once again filled his eyes, which were narrowed by his smile. His cheerful tone did not ease the weird atmosphere, but even added fuel to the fire, making the air even more silent and depressing.

He shook the test tube as if he was fiddling with a sugar pill, and this action seemed to lower the air pressure by another degree. Everyone's breathing became shallow, as if they were afraid of disturbing something. The three of them seemed to be abiding by some strange agreement with each other, and actually reached a strange balance.

What caused all this was the cup of sugar pills in the test tube. Those small yellow balls, which were constantly jumping like Mexican jumping beans dancing in high temperatures, were colliding with the walls of the test tube vigorously.

This is what Gin and the British are here for, the so-called rejuvenation potion, but for Roald Dahl, these might just be ordinary sugar pills.