[Comprehensive] Captive villain BOSS

A soft and comfortable warm light emanates from a small lamp, becoming hazy in the enveloping mist.Steam rises from the humble stone bath, carrying the fragrance from the foam.Monotonous foam filled the entire surface of the pool. Moriarty sat in the middle, raised his arms, and looked carefully at the dim light.

Pale and thin, it looks like a child with a congenital deficiency... Blue blood vessels can be vaguely seen under the skin, as if it is too fragile to withstand any touch.A drop of water rolled down the arm, and Moriarty followed it down... down... until the burn scar appeared, and there were scattered bruises around it... He slammed his arm hard Slamming into the water, he pursed his lips sullenly.

What a mistake.

If it wasn't for Sherlock's sudden madness tonight, he still wouldn't be aware of the abnormality in himself.When he was resurrected from consciousness, Sherlock reshaped his image out of his instinctive needs... more delicate and thin, like a sissy who is easy to give in to others, and at the same time changed his image The memory made him feel that he was such a person... After getting the new body, he didn't have any doubts about this body.Because if it wasn't for his lack of athletic ability, how could he be ridiculed by Carl Power?But aging agents changed his perspective...he knew his body and what it was like to be an adult.Although the aging agent does not allow people to steal the time of adulthood, it can change a person's body with the power of potions, allowing it to reach a more mature state for a short time.He was surprised to find that his new body was very slender, with soft ligaments, delicate and smooth skin, and almost no pores... Apparently, this body was more in line with Sherlock's aesthetic needs than Moriarty's own body.

He doesn't object to being taken advantage of by Sherlock occasionally, but if Sherlock is the hunter and he is the prey——

Moriarty closed his eyes in exasperation, sinking into the foam from the chin down.This can only show one thing, he is still in Sherlock's mind... Otherwise, the latter would not be able to affect him so easily, it is like a kind of captivity... He must think about the existence of this world problem.

Allen knocked on the door cautiously outside.Moriarty soaked for a while longer, until his skin wrinkled, and then he slowly began to clean himself up.When he finally came out with the towel in his arms, Allen was already sitting on the edge of the bed and was about to fall asleep.Hearing the movement, he took a sleepy look and said cleverly: "You're awake... Uh, I mean, you're done washing, Moriarty..."

Moriarty hummed, cast a cleaning spell on the towel, and climbed onto the four-poster bed with it in his arms.

Perhaps because he was sleepy, Allen washed very quickly this time.He said a quick-feeling charm to his hair and was ready for bed.Unexpectedly, when he climbed onto the four-poster bed, he caught a glimpse of the hideous scar on Moriarty's arm... Suddenly he was so shocked that he lost sleepiness: "Moriarty! You are injured!"

Moriarty was sitting cross-legged on the towel, with a small box next to him, which contained neatly stacked potions.A few bottles were empty, and the towels were stained shades and shades from the dripping potion.He casually picked up another bottle, opened the bottle, fanned the smell, and poured it directly on the scar: "Well, yes. Don't you know? I thought you went to the game."

Allen was at a loss for words for a while, and his expression was a little depressed.After a while, he still couldn't help glancing at Moriarty's arm, racking his brains to search for words: "...I heard from them that the Warriors will be well taken care of after the game..."

"Ah, that's probably because my physique is different."

Allen blurted out: "Even so..."

Moriarty glanced at Allen with a half-smile.Alan felt flustered belatedly, some dared not look him in the eyes, and quickly looked away: "...I've heard that some pure-blood families inherit some bad physiques...sometimes Also immune to potions or magic..."

"That's really interesting." Moriarty said slowly, and opened another bottle of potion, "Who are the purebloods who have such a physique?"

He turned his head to look at Allen, with a look of distress suddenly on his face, with a serious expression on his face: "Professor Snape seems to have mentioned a few surnames to me... You know, I have been talking to you all this time. Learn potions from him... let me think, who else..."

Allen trembled suddenly: "No, stop talking—"

Moriarty poured another bottle of potion on the wound, but the scar he had roughly treated remained unchanged: "Is there Keton? Is there Bobby? Is it Augustine? Or let me think about it... well, Yax profit?"

"—Jin!" Allen sat up straight, his face flushed, "What does this mean?"

No matter how stupid he was, he could still realize that Moriarty had deliberately brought up this topic. Apart from being confused, he was still vaguely ashamed and angry.These emotions were intertwined, and when he looked at Moriarty, he suddenly had the courage to look directly at the other person, wanting to explain something thoroughly...to resolve it thoroughly.

"I don't mean anything else, Alan," Moriarty smiled, "It's just that someone told me today that you got very close to Mr. Crouch and had a good conversation with Mr. Malfoy. Please tell me How did you establish a friendly relationship with these two basically irrelevant gentlemen? Oh, sorry, it seems a bit rude to ask... Well, let's put it another way. Alan... You are now, in Who do you work for?"

"There's nothing to say." Allen said dryly, "Mr. Crouch and I are relatives, and the Yaxley family and the Malfoy family also have business..."

"If you refuse to tell me what Mr. Malfoy told you, things will be difficult." The scar finally changed a little, the blood scabs began to fall off, and delicate skin grew out.Moriarty calculated the dosage, carefully poured a little more on top, and then wrapped his entire arm with a bandage.

Sherlock saw the scars.Not only those who were injured in today's game, but also the bruises from previous bumps, and the bruises on their wrists... He guessed that Moriarty's body was dirty, but he couldn't expect the bone blood potion to come up for a while.Just let Sherlock continue the guessing game... Moriarty has to go ahead and solve a bigger puzzle.

Allen was silent for a while, and said, "I didn't reveal anything to Mr. Malfoy..."

"Even if you really revealed something, I won't blame you, Alan." Moriarty showed a look of understanding, "After all, the Yaxley family and the Malfoy family have a cooperative relationship. Besides, the Malfoy family Mr. Fu is so rich, as long as he moves his little finger, there will be countless people willing to die for him..."

His tone made Allen feel very uncomfortable.He raised his head, and was about to explain something, but saw a light flash in Moriarty's eyes, then turned his head away silently, and began to tidy up the towels and potion boxes that were messed up by potions.He belatedly thought that it might be Moriarty's tears, and he was suddenly overwhelmed, and a strong sense of guilt rose: "—I'm sorry, Moriarty... many people have found me... …my dad wrote me to write a regular letter home…he said the Yaxleys had just reconnected with the Blacks even though all they had left was the magic portrait…they want to know everything about you ...But Mr. Malfoy found me today, and he asked me to stop disclosing your privacy to Black. If you find any changes in you, you should report to him immediately...Mr. Crouch did it after you became a warrior. Suddenly appeared, he looked very strange, he must know your recent situation from me, and he has been inquiring about your life experience... My father—the Yaxley family is just a small family now, we have no ability..."

The more he spoke, the paler he became, and his voice became lower and lower.Moriarty's voice sounded: "Then, have you told them that I am a Black whose parents are unknown?"

Allen hesitated for a moment, then nodded slightly.

Then he saw Moriarty jump off the bunk, his high arched feet on the carpet, scattered purple bruises on the insteps.

"So, Alan," his voice sounded very pleasant, but his weird accent made people feel like a snake spitting out a letter, "you also told them that I left the dormitory for a while on the night the warriors signed up. Is it time?"

The author has something to say: Depressed to find out that there are faults in the meat without stewing ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah... ...action scenes... [smiles frantically]