you turned on the love game

You didn't fall asleep, you just lay on the bed with your eyes closed.

If Kimir intends to attack you, tonight is the best chance.Otherwise, when you recover from your injuries, his chances of success will drop. That guy who killed his companions is definitely not willing to procrastinate.

In the dead of night, every slight movement will be magnified infinitely.

Suddenly there was a very low voice outside, and you opened your eyes suddenly, and heard another person respond to the former.

Is there anyone else here?

You rolled over and sat up, moving your stiff arms.

Before you could reach the door, the sound of a heavy object falling to the ground suddenly sounded in the living room. You froze for a moment, and quickly opened the door, only to see a dark figure standing beside the sofa.

The dim wall lamp can only illuminate his rough outline.

His back is facing you, arms hanging by his sides, dark shadows spread out from under his feet, and melt into the deeper darkness.

Hearing the sound of opening the door, the figure turned around, and you immediately met a pair of pitch-black pupils, without a trace of light in them, not even the dim light from the wall lamp could illuminate his eyes.

But because of this, the vigilance in your heart let go: "Barton?"

The boy raised his face slightly, the faint light fell into his deep eyes, his voice was as calm as his eyes: "Um..."

The slow-moving air is filled with a pungent bloody smell, and it tends to become stronger. You take two steps outside and immediately see Kimmel's body lying behind the sofa.

"Why did you do it to him? Could it be that his target is you?"

You walked up to the boy, with a puzzled expression on your face: "It shouldn't be, Hei? Since Dao recruited you and that girl, in their eyes, you should be a talent who needs to be recruited. How could they attack you?"

Hearing this, the silent boy moved.

He raised his index finger and thumb up, and the pupils looking at you suddenly slid to the corner, as if he was thinking, but his expressionless face made him look a little dazed: "I don't know about this."

Then he closed his eyes slightly, nodded his face with his thumb again and again, frowning and looked a little distressed: "But he did want to attack me, so I killed him in a fit of anger."

You still feel that something is wrong, but the facts are right in front of you, so you can only nod your head and say, "So that's how it is."

While you were talking, the door of the girl's room opened silently. She glanced at the situation in the living room, and then quickly closed the door before you greeted her, as if she didn't want to participate at all.

The little boy glanced at the closed door and looked away: "Is he your target?"

You didn't respond: "What?"

"This guy lying on the ground."

"Oh, you said him."

You thought he was worried about stealing your target, and you laughed and said, "Originally, but it's the same if you kill him."

He blinked his eyes and turned his head to look at you. The hair behind his ears slid down to the crest of his neck with his movements, and an indistinct arc was raised at the corner of his lips: "That's it, I see."

The alarm is off, and you plan to go back to your room to sleep. When you turn around, you see chocolate wrappers piled up on the coffee table. You pause and ask him in confusion, "Are you sitting in the living room eating candy in the middle of the night?"

The boy retorted calmly: "I didn't eat those."

You are speechless: "No one has changed the chocolate except me."

As if belatedly aware, he said, "Ah, is that so?"

Putting his fingertips on his jaw, he made a thoughtful movement, and then changed his words without blushing, "It must be because of insomnia, there is no way."

"..." You looked at him like a kid desperately looking for excuses: "At this time, your performance is very suitable for your age."

The little boy tilted his head indifferently, pretending not to understand.

The next day, the staff quickly came to take away the body, and provided a free cleaning service. Unfortunately, the blood-spattered walls will not be repainted, and the bright red color can only be seen turning dark brown little by little.

From that day on, the girl came out of the room less and less, and occasionally avoided Button when talking to you. For some reason, she looked extremely wary of him.

A week later, when you achieved 25 victories, the loudspeaker in the room suddenly called you and Barton out together, and the staff led you to a strange place.

Looking at the road that is completely different from the battlefield, you guess that you are going to take you to meet someone. You look sideways at the roommate who has experience in this, ask him with your eyes, and get a positive nod.

"Here we are..." The staff stopped, "Go in."

You stepped in first, thinking that you would first see the sham power specially made to show your strength, but you didn't expect that there was only a large desk in the empty room, and a row of bodyguards stood on both sides.

The swivel chair behind the desk slowly turned around after the door was closed, revealing a cold and hard face, with a scar between the brow bone and the bridge of the nose, making this face even more terrifying.

"Button, we meet again." A smile appeared on that fierce face, and then he turned his gaze to you, "And this player number 99, I've wanted to meet you for a long time."

It turned out that I wanted to see you because I arranged for someone to kill you, which increased my knowledge.

You lower your eyes, almost laughing.

After the hypocritical and polite greeting, there is a seemingly sincere attitude.

Use the training method of leaving Meteor Street and gaining freedom, as well as the ability to read, as a bait to attract capable talents to take the bait.

In the end, he said: "Player number 87 who is in the same room as you has joined us. She doesn't need to win 32 games to leave directly. Today is the last day she stays here."

Number 87 is the girl you borrowed the bandage from.

You suddenly asked, "Is Kimir one of yours?"

The big man's expression remained unchanged: "Is that the little guy who died? It's a pity that the dead don't belong to us, and he missed the opportunity to join."