Miss M7M doesn't want to be a conjurer

As Poe said before, the dead body of an adult male was found in the backyard that day. The murder weapon was a tree-felling ax with a sharp ax tip. In the man's heart, blood stained the white snow on the ground.

When Gojo Satoru and Machima went to observe the scene, the corpses had already been cleaned up, leaving only the reddish-brown snow due to the blood.

Without fingerprints or any physical evidence, it is simply a perfect crime. In this case, it is impossible to find the murderer. Would detectives write such ironic things?

of course not.

It's just that Poe's purpose is to trap them in the book forever, which is also reasonable.

The manor was completely closed to the outside world. Even if such a case happened, no police came, and the body was directly buried in a snow pit not far from the manor.

In this case, when the weather warms up and the snow melts, the corpse will probably be seen again.

But the service staff and even the owner of the manor obviously don't care about these things, as if they have been released countless times, and the most displeased are the guests in the manor.

Due to the blizzard, a group of people were trapped in the manor. There was no phone, no signal, and no way to communicate with the outside world. They could only wait for the blizzard to stop.

On the afternoon of the first day, Gojo Satoru didn't just have a common cold symptom like a headache and a runny nose. His mind was no longer so clear, and he looked groggy.

Maqima put her hand on his forehead, and it seemed that her body temperature should not be lower than 39 degrees.

She forced Wujou into the bed, helped him tuck the corner of the quilt, went to the front desk to ask for cold medicine to feed him, stayed in the room from time to time to change the wet towel on his forehead, and occasionally threw two into the fireplace twigs to make the fire burn better.

Gojo Satoru hasn't had such an uneasy sleep for many years.

Ever since he learned the reversal technique, he has never been sick again, never tired or uncomfortable, and he has never felt this drowsy feeling.

My head hurts, and I still feel cold from the inside out even though I'm staying in a warm room and curled up under the blanket.

This is a world where spells cannot be used.

Whether it is a reversal technique, an unlimited technique, or even a teleportation technique, he cannot use it.

He was clearly 1.9 meters tall, but he was curled up in a ball under the blanket at this time, his exposed cheeks were flushed, and his slender white eyelashes trembled slightly, probably because he had a fever and his breathing was not very steady.

He didn't want to sleep, he wanted to jump up immediately to find the murderer, and then go back.

But his eyelids seemed to be stuck with super glue, and he couldn't open them no matter what. He couldn't help but frown. He didn't like this feeling of being out of control.

At this time, Wujo Wu deeply realized that the "Gojo Wu" without the magic power was just an ordinary person with a stronger body, and he would get sick and feel uncomfortable just like other ordinary people.

But at least Makma is fine now, not even having a runny nose at all.

Thinking of this, he felt that his illness was worth it.

The towel on the forehead seems to be changed frequently.

Another time someone woke him up to take a pill, and he drank a ton of a large glass of lukewarm water.

Occasionally, he half-opened his eyes, as if someone was busy all the time, running around inside and outside the house.

It's a pity that his mind was completely muddled during that time, and he fell asleep again before he could see who the other party was.

Gojo Satoru didn't know how long he had been asleep, he only knew that he was woken up by Machima.

And the other party woke him up not because of anything else, but because he needed to take medicine again.

He took the white pill lying in the soft palm of the place, put it in his mouth, took the glass of warm water, and drank it in one gulp. It seemed that there were drops of water passing from the corner of his mouth to his chin. The corners of his lips turned, only then did he realize that it was already dark.

Maqima saw him lying down, and then she planned to leave, but just as she got up, she was grabbed by the wrist by the person on the bed.

"what time is it?"

Probably because the mind is not very clear yet, Wutiao Wu said the words vaguely and with a strong nasal sound.

Maqima glanced at the clock on the wall: "It's past eleven."

...He has become so stupid that he can't even read the time?

Gojo Satoru asked again, "Is it at night?"

if not?

Macchima nodded: "Yes."

"Why don't you sleep?"

"Well... I'm still investigating the case, and you still need someone to take care of you."

"I don't need to investigate today, and I don't need to take care of it. This little problem will be fine tomorrow morning."

Gojo Satoru put away his usual self-talk attitude, which was rare, and his tone of every sentence was extremely serious, but in Maqima's view, he felt that he had become a lot naive.

Although Gojo Satoru is naive in the first place.

"You go to bed early, too," he said.

Mazima looked down at him, he was curled up under the quilt like a ball of white cat, staying there motionless, but wanted her to stay very much, his paws kept pawing at her palm.

When people are sick, they will become very fragile. They are afraid of discomfort and loneliness, and always want someone to accompany them.

That's right, when people are sick, people are eager to get the care of others, and the person they care about most hopes to be the one they care about.

Gojo Satoru at this time is like a cat exposing its frail belly in front of her, wanting to be touched and cared by her, and only at this time will he expose his truest self, thinking of what he has always been in longing for something.

Maqima has lived for many years, and although she is proficient in human psychology, she still can't understand people's feelings.

She seems to often look down and examine them from the perspective of the superior, thinking that human desires are things that are not worth mentioning.

But for some reason, her feet seemed to be glued to the ground, and she couldn't walk when she looked at the other person.

The emotions that humans have are really troublesome.

It wasn't the first time Machima felt this way.

And as a demon born out of human fear, why is she not a part of human beings?

Macchima simply sat down on the edge of the bed, holding the hand that was holding her wrist with both hands.

She found that the other party was obviously a man, but his skin was very fair, similar to hers, but it was more than a circle bigger than hers, and he had to hold both hands together.

"Okay, where do I sleep?"

Gojo Satoru blinked his blue eyes, which were still covered with water vapor, and said, "Sleep on the bed."

Machima shook her head: "Colds are contagious."

As soon as Machima finished speaking, she saw the white-haired man frowning in aggrieved manner, as if she had bullied him, as if he was about to cry if he didn't pay attention.

He scratched her soft palm with his fingertips: "No, absolutely not."

"It's very warm inside the quilt, so I won't catch a cold."

Maqima found that he had started to talk nonsense, and it was not a question of whether the bed was warm or not, but a question of contagion from sleeping with him, a serious patient.

Then she saw the other party blink and blink twice, expecting her to agree, and suddenly felt that he couldn't tell whether he was real or just pretending.

Although his brain might still be confused, she couldn't believe that he hadn't woken up for so long.

Is it a bitter trick?

I don't know how long it took, Maqima couldn't help sighing when she saw Gojo Satoru accidentally fell asleep while waiting for her to respond.

She took off her coat, leaving only a thin white skirt on her body. She untied her long braids and lifted the warm blanket to lie down. Just as she was about to turn her back to him, she was surrounded by a pair of strong arms.

Mazima was forced to bury her head on the opponent's chest, the force was irresistible, the man's scorching body temperature and the sound of the beating heart in the chest made her feel more awake.

Boom, boom, boom, his heartbeat is regular, and the wall clock on the wall is also "tick tock", which is also full of rhythm.

She heard the whirring voices of the five Wuhus again, and warm air flowed over her head: "This way it won't be contagious, sleep well..."

She suspected that he fell asleep in the middle of speaking.

Indeed, it is very difficult to catch a cold in this way, as long as you try not to breathe the same piece of air.

But at this moment, she was covered under the quilt, and in front of her was the other party's broad chest. The space was extremely narrow, and there was not enough air at all.

When she fell asleep, she had to poke her head outside to maintain sufficient oxygen. She didn't know which time she heard the other party call her name vaguely.

"Machima...I like you...then you...do you like me..."

Gojo Satoru seemed to be in a dream, popping out a few words from time to time, intermittently, and after a little bit of piecing together, it became like this.

Just like "thinking by day, dreaming at night", Wujo Satoru must have liked her to a certain extent before he would confess his love to her in his sleep.

He made a vague voice again: "You at least...reply..."

"Well, I like Enlightenment too."

Her voice was so low that only she could hear it.

Rather than a reply, this is more like a wish, wishing the other party a sweet dream.

-

Gojo Satoru had a dream.

In the dream, he finally confessed his love to Mazima, but the premise was that Mazima stood on the opposite side of her, and she became a curse master.

The woman in the dream was still the same as she remembered. Her long orange-pink hair was braided and hung down her back, which was orange-red under the sunlight. Her overly long sideburns floated in a graceful arc in the air with the breeze.

She usually wears a suit when she is working, and she is meticulously organized from head to toe.

When she doesn't have to go to work, she often wears casual clothes at home, which is a little more casual and adds a little sparkle.

Machima in the dream is standing opposite the river, and the place near the river is full of bright red and coquettish Bianhua flowers. She is neither in a suit nor casual clothes.

The woman was wearing a slim black long dress, standing with a group of spell spirits with similar intelligence and language.

The river seemed to be moving, and she was gradually getting further and further away from him.

And for some reason, he stood still and couldn't move, as if he was sealed by something, he couldn't make a sound, only the howling of a beast in his heart.

Gojo Satoru almost lost sight of her.

He didn't understand why his six eyes were useless at this time, he was like a helpless ordinary person, unable to do anything.

But in fact, he was helpless like an ordinary person.

At the last moment, he finally suppressed the pain in his heart, and said in a hoarse voice: "Maqima, I like you."

"Do you like me?"

"Anyway... please reply."

Gojo Satoru suddenly found himself standing in the deserted wilderness, and his voice finally disappeared in the darkness.