Schiller looked into Professor Charles's wrinkled eyes and suddenly realized that when he had caught that fleeting glimpse of Professor X's younger body, what had drawn him most had also been those blue eyes.
At certain moments in life, many people felt that some memories belonged to another lifetime, only for a tiny detail to effortlessly bring them back. Somehow, Schiller had already arrived at the door with Charles.
Slightly more clearheaded, Schiller pushed open the door. Charles followed him inside, and they sat down beside the table. Schiller's gaze kept following Charles's eyes. Charles did not know what he was looking at, but he felt that Schiller was seeing someone else through him.
"You really are a good Doctor, Professor Charles." Sitting in his chair, Schiller lowered his eyes, nodded, and said, "I truly did not grow up in an ordinary family environment."
"Tell me more about that part." Charles took out a pen and paper from beneath the table, meaning that he was prepared to write down what Schiller said.
Schiller placed both hands on the table, his fingers intertwined, his posture somewhat tense. Before Charles could comfort him and tell him to relax, Schiller began to speak.
"I hope you will only treat this as a story, because it does not fit the background of this era. You will not find any basis for it in reality, and none of this ever happened in this universe."
"Of course, I understand. You needn't feel pressured. Even if I say that, you may not fully trust me, but whenever you feel that opening up to me might affect your real life, think about who I am, what I can do, and how, if I truly wanted to use your past to hurt you, I would not need to sit