The protagonist wants to steal my script again

Mr. No. 08 is still a little irritable - An Minghui thought so.

"Get out quickly!"

Standing against the door panel, An Minghui helplessly looked down at the person who was sitting on the ground talking in a crying voice and still didn't forget to drive him out.

"I don't think I've done anything irritating. If you say it's embarrassing to see me crying, it's not necessary?" One is that he can't see his face while wearing a mask, and the other is that he should lose it. The previous few have already lost their faces, and it's not too bad to get here.

"I'm not crying!" No. 08 retorted fiercely, but from the lack of confidence in his tone, it can be judged that what he said was obviously mixed with water.

"I didn't intend to pursue this." He didn't think it was a shame to cry in this situation, "it's just...you really don't want to see me? If I do something to make you angry You can tell me directly."

No. 08 doesn't know how many times I have thought this way: Obviously this person is not a very talkative person, but how can he just open his mouth to make him feel confused.

"I said, do you understand?" He was so angry that he couldn't stop the tears from falling from his eyes. He almost wished he could disappear here immediately, so he could only grit his teeth and say word by word, "If you don't leave, I'm going to lock you up here, you can never go to the next house, you can only stay here with me forever!"

"Well...Okay, then I'll go first."

After thinking for about five seconds, after saying this, An Minghui simply turned around, opened the door and walked out. His movements were so smooth that No. 08 almost wanted to arrest him immediately, and at the same time, he couldn't help but feel a little sour. : Little bastard, you really don't feel anything special when you see me again?

"By the way," An Ming poked half of his head in from the door that was still closed, and looked at Mr. Prisoner with a dark smile, "I really have to go to the next gentleman first." Talk about something, and seeing you cry so sadly, I won’t check you for wounds, I’ll just pretend I don’t know anything, and there won’t be any punishment later, just as compensation for not being able to stay with you for a while ,OK?"

"Okay, I'm really leaving this time. It's okay to cry while I'm not around. If I still cry when we meet next time, I'll be really angry."

After saying the last sentence, before No. 08 could react, An Minghui closed the door, turned around and walked towards the last destination - now he was going to listen to the "confession in court" of the culprit.

This time, he didn't even have to knock on the door. After trotting all the way to the door of room 09, he raised his hand and opened the door, and then looked at the person in the room who was tightly bound by chains.

"It shouldn't be my illusion. I always feel that you are tied up very tightly?" He walked into the door, first looked around the chain that was as thick as a wrist, and wrapped around the elbow of No. 09, and proposed this question.

"...Do you guess why?" No. 09 asked gloomily.

"Let me guess?" Tilting his head, An Minghui stepped forward, raised his hand and lightly took off the mask on No. 09's face, then squatted down and smiled, looking directly at the very familiar but just expression. Unhappy face, "I guess it's because you're always messing around, right? It's only been a few days, isn't it inappropriate to say it's been a while?"

After the mask was taken off, all the camouflage disappeared, and this person was no longer the uniform gray and white clothes here, but the home clothes that An Minghui often saw not long ago, and his hair also changed from a nondescript black The short hair turned back to its original light blonde color, and that handsome and aggressive face was all too familiar.

"So, what should I call you, Mr. 09? Lyle? Or should I call you Mr. Developer?"

"Don't lie to me again," Lyle snorted with a worried look on his face, "You haven't settled your account for fooling me when you were in that emperor's world."

When this was mentioned suddenly, An Minghui was really stunned for a long while before he recalled what Lyle was referring to—it should be that he got out from the developer that His Majesty the Emperor was indeed the protagonist at that time.

"That's why you took the initiative to provoke me, and ten years of anger is not enough?"

"Let's not talk about that first," An Minghui sat down, showing a rare and serious expression, "Can we talk about everything now?"

This person always had a soft smile on his face, but now he suddenly put on a serious expression, which made Lyle unaccustomed to it, and at the same time, he subconsciously felt a hair on his back—as if he had made a mistake and was caught by his parents kids like that.

So when he didn't realize it, Lyle's tone suddenly weakened: "Then you just ask, and I didn't say I won't tell you, but the thing is, when you died a few times before, it was indeed My idea, the latter has nothing to do with me..."

At first it was just for fun, who would have thought that he would really fall in love with such a person, and he even liked it to death.

"Does it have nothing to do with you?"

It was just a light rhetorical question, which made Lyle startled again, and almost fell into the ground with the little momentum left, so he could only answer in a low voice: "It's not completely okay..."

Nobody can get away with all that is really going to be said, because in the end it's just the same existence from beginning to end-even if they don't bother to admit it to each other.

"I... am not human."

Beginning with such a sentence that was not unexpected by An Minghui, through the combination of narrative and question and answer, this series of rather absurd things was finally unfolded in front of him little by little.

As Lyall said, he, or they, were not human, but even he himself could not explain what he was.

Whether it is human beings, monsters or gods, no matter they are strong or weak, in fact, in Lyle's view, they all live very simple lives. No matter how many things to do, no matter how many wishes are not fulfilled, it is all about in their own world.

Even if someone's long-cherished wish is to destroy the entire world, that's all there is to it.

But existences like them are excluded from the world. They are more like managers, and they control countless worlds. Those worlds are either independent of each other, or they have a place to blend, but no matter how complicated they are, To them, it looks like a ball of tangled wool, nothing unusual.

Countless new worlds are born every moment, and countless worlds are also destroyed and disappeared. This is nothing more than an ordinary thing.

There seems to be a wonderful drama in every world, and every existence living in it is busy, but as managers, they have always lived a boring life—no matter how many balls of wool, no matter how colorful they are No matter how complicated the pattern is, it is still a ball of yarn after all.

And not only that, he also absorbs a lot of emotions overflowing from various balls of wool every day, mainly various negative emotions, such as greed, violence, lust... Countless emotions are absorbed, but He is not as diligent as his colleagues. He doesn't want to and doesn't feel the need to organize these things, so he allows these emotions to form one fragment after another.

Each of these fragments is not the real him, but each is the real him.To put it bluntly, it is just an existence whose source cannot be found. If there are more fragments from the ball of yarn, it will naturally become a complete manager like him. It seems that such an inexplicable thing is not worthy of having it at all. What "real personality", after all, this sounds too extravagant.

Later, he finally found a way to pass the time, which is to break up the pieces that make up himself, throw them into a separate small world, and let them kill each other-in fact, it is quite boring to fight with yourself, but it is better than Do nothing to make it stronger, and anyway, there will always be a steady stream of fragments to replenish it, no matter how much it is consumed, it doesn't matter.

That small world, that is, the place that was given to An Minghui now as a playing field.

Then one day, a colleague who has always been conscientious and in stark contrast to him threw himself into one of his worlds, because that guy prefers all kinds of positive emotions, and in the process of absorbing emotions, he will inevitably mix in negative ones. Emotions, so my colleague intends to get rid of the bad part through this form—probably there is also a selfish desire to have fun by the way.

Lyle didn't pay much attention to it at first, who would have thought that the guy would change completely after he came back.In the past, I would often observe what happened in various worlds, and solemnly said like a fool that I liked those kind heroes. As a result, after leaving the world, my face was gloomy all day long. Not only did I not remove the part I wanted to remove, but it still More powerful than before.That guy occasionally murmured that "a good man should die", but held a soul that was so fragile that it was almost imperceptible as a treasure in his hand, and sometimes stared at it while waiting for the new world suitable for the soul to grow up. That cluster of souls laughed disgustingly.

In general, it's scary, like losing your mind.

At that time, it happened that Lyle was bored, and felt that the performance of his colleagues was a bit interesting, so he did not throw his fragments into the original small world to fight and kill, but scattered them into different complete worlds. middle.

During this process, he completely erased all his original consciousness, and only planned to wait for his own fragments to "wake up" in different balls of wool, or die in them directly, so as to break away from this new consciousness in this way. game.

Lyle also frankly admitted that even though he seemed to be a complete individual, he was indeed just a fragment, at best it could only be said to be a relatively unlucky piece, because after he recovered his original consciousness from his "ball of wool" and When I left, I found that the other fragments were having a great time playing one by one, and there was no plan to come out at all.

Looking at it makes people angry.

The author has something to say: You don’t need to guess, the story on the colleague’s side is the original follow-up article (I call the sister article called An Bao)

If I am still willing to write next year, it may be opened on the cp side