Ian rolled in through the broken French window like a dexterous cat,
There wasn't even a trace of dust on his black sweatshirt. He patted the non-existent dust on his hands and showed an overly bright smile to the stunned officer Kate·Beckett.
"There are no bombs! This is a wealthy area! Explosive Genius doesn't like to come here!"
As Evil God.
Ian's disadvantage of not having a few eyeballs in his mouth has now emerged. He thought that his handling method was perfect, but he didn't know that his oral environment betrayed him completely when he smiled.
"??????""
Kate·Beckett Officer stared intently at the suspicious debris between Ian's lips and teeth. They looked like the remnants of some kind of plastic explosive, glowing ominously under the kitchen light.
Of course.
It's a bit too much for a materialist to believe that someone can eat bombs. The shocked police officer Kate·Beckett hesitated for a moment but still bypassed Ian and came to the window.
"No, where did you come out of just now?" She swore that she had just checked out the window. At the height of the 18th floor, there was nothing except the smooth glass curtain wall and the air-conditioning outdoor unit platform.
"I have claustrophobia and I have to take a breath of fresh air from time to time. This is what mental patients are like. If you don't believe it, you can ask the dead Dr. Hannibal."
Ian patted the non-existent dust on the sweater and slowly adjusted the cuffs. His bright golden eyes showed a strange sense of shrewdness under the light.
"Are you kidding me! This is the 18th floor! The 18th floor!" Kate felt her temples pounding. The height of the 18th floor made her stomach tighten. Under the platform of the outdoor air conditioner, which was less than half a square meter, except for two rusty fixing screws, there were no handles that could hang a human being.
"I'm right under the platform of the outdoor unit of the air conditioner. It's a prime seat for optimal breathing of fresh air." Ian gestured as if he was holding two screws with each hand.
At the same time, he tried his best to tell the lie, "Hot air rises, cold air sinks, and the airflow exhausted from the outdoor unit of the air conditioner forms a micro convection system there."
"The position I just hung up to watch happens to be at the end of the downdraft, which also means that it has reached thermodynamic equilibrium. Hanging there is cooler than blowing the air conditioner!"
Ian really wanted to protect his identity as an ordinary citizen Metropolis. The police station promised to give him a certificate for the last robbery, but they couldn't let the police know that he was a superhero before then. After all, in the minds of most people in this world, it is natural for superheroes to do good deeds.
Certificate of award?
There will be no electronic certificates!
"Not even a beagle can stand there!" Policewoman Kate felt that her sanity was melting like ice cream. She stared intently at Ian's innocent face.
Some indescribable complex emotions surged in my chest,
"Listen, although I am a policeman, it doesn't mean that I don't have knowledge in physics. Do you think you can fool me by just using some professional terms?"
She spoke one word at a time, each syllable seemed to be squeezed out from her teeth, "I have never seen anyone breathe fresh air in this way!"
It's hard to say how frightened the policewoman feels now. She knows that Ian's mental condition may not be good, but mental patients should not be as evil as they were just now!
"Oh, then you met today. Congratulations, Officer Beckett. I've given you a little more experience, so you don't have to thank me." Ian nodded without changing his expression.
No matter what, he has to be tough-mouthed.
"Fortunately I became a police officer and not a psychiatrist."
Kate now only felt a wave of dizziness. She took a deep breath and leaned out of the window again—this time to examine the platform more carefully. Two rusty screws were abruptly nailed to the concrete exterior wall, nearly one meter away from the edge of the platform. A terrifying suspicion took shape in her mind.
"You are the Superman type, right?" Kate doesn't want to speculate or guess like this. However, the weird scene that just happened can only be made reasonable by using this explanation.
Hear the words.
Ian took several steps back.
"Superman class!?"
The voice suddenly rose, like a cat whose tail was stepped on, and the whole person was instantly stressed, "Who are you talking about like Superman?! I can hang out just because I am working out!"
"Fitness! Do you understand?! Don't overrule my persistence and sweat with just a casual sentence like Superman!" As he said that, Ian put his hand into his trouser pocket in order to prove that he was really working out.
Methenolone, Stanozolol, Yangxiong Dragon, Anadrol, Trenbolone, Nandrolone Phenylpropionate-Ian took out dozens of bottles and cans from his not-so-large trouser pockets.
Why isn't this a proof of hard work? Most fitness people only use Nine Dragons Pulling Coffin, and Ian is Hundred Dragons Pulling Coffin, which means they work ten times harder than professional fitness people!
"What the hell are these!" Kate grabbed a bottle labeled "Bone Density Enhancement Tablet" and found that the ingredient list on the back clearly said "Contains 10% fatality probability".
She shook the bottle, and the pills inside made a suspicious clicking sound. Even if she didn't want to believe Ian, she still had to convince herself that this boy was really working out.
Most people can't afford so much technological work in their pockets, let alone their bank safes.
"Science, dear Officer Beckett, it's all science." Ian said seriously, while quietly sweeping a bottle marked "For Animal Use Only" back into his pocket.
"What happened to ordinary citizens who have gone through systematic training and hard work and hung an eighteenth floor outside their windows? If you don't believe it, when I go back tonight, I will send you videos of two hundred fitness instructors who chose to hang them outside their windows because they were caught having an affair. Only 96 of them died, which is less than half. Of course, I can do what others can do."
"I didn't even have an affair just now, and I have much more energy than them!"
Ian's logic is still so impeccable. Even though Beckett and other acquaintances of Ian feel strange, they still can't find any argument to refute Ian.
She was speechless, but her professional instincts still struggled.
"What about the bomb? I saw you take out a bomb from the microwave oven." Beckett, who gradually understood his thoughts, still firmly believed in what he had witnessed before.
In response to this, Ian laughed directly and Madison Acting Method possessed him, "Officer Beckett, you should also see a doctor. How could a bomb be taken out of a microwave oven?"
"The microwave oven will only produce delicious chicken breasts. Who would put a bomb in the microwave oven to heat and eat it? Dr. Hannibal just likes to buy some C4-shaped chicken breasts to make things mysterious."
He emphasized the key points again and did not give Beckett a chance to look strangely. He first looked at the long-legged policewoman up and down with the eyes of a mental patient.
"Oh, you think I believe that there are C4-shaped chicken breasts in this world? Me." Beckett opened his mouth, but before he finished speaking, he saw that Ian had already used his mobile phone to find the same product on Amazon.
This wave immediately left Beckett speechless. She didn't know that Ian had the all-powerful Black Box, so she could only have a stiff expression and fell into a kind of silence, perhaps doubting the magic level of the world.
The air in the kitchen was so solid that it could be cut into pieces and put on a plate. The competition between police officers Beckett and Ian was all about endurance, and the only sound left in the kitchen was the sound of the water purifier starting up.
In this weird atmosphere.
There was a rush of footsteps at the kitchen door.
"Beckett!"
Junior Division Police Detective Kevin Ryan appeared at the door. There were still a few drops of sweat on his forehead. He had obviously just come back from outside and had no idea what crisis had just occurred here. The Irish-born man looked at the two silent people and was keenly aware that something was not right in the atmosphere, but he still chose to report the business first.
"The technical team has located the marked area on the map and has confirmed that someone is hiding inside." He lowered his voice, with a hint of excitement and nervousness in his eyes.
"There is a very secret cabin there - judging from the architectural structure, it is likely to be Ripper's long-term stronghold." This was obviously an information investigation based on the map dug out by Ian. Beckett's eyes sharpened instantly, and she quickly adjusted her state, as if the dispute with Ian just now had never happened.
"Very good. Don't alert the enemy. We have assembled a team to catch him. This serial murderer who has been active for several years finally showed his flaws."
Beckett said simply and neatly, walking quickly to the living room and pulling out a bulletproof vest from the equipment bag.
Her movements were clean and tidy, and the buckle of her body armor clicked. She was instantly withdrawn from her private emotions and transformed back into the resolute homicide detective.
Ian stood at the door of the kitchen, tilting his head and looking at the police.
"Can I join you?"
He thought that he had met Will Graham outside Hannibal's clinic before. At that time, the other person had human flesh in his mouth. He originally thought that this guy had been assimilated by Dr. Hannibal.
Never thought about it.
Dr. Hannibal is a good person, and Will Graham is the real ogre. It is not difficult to see this from the information on the floor of Dr. Hannibal's room other than the map.
As Will Graham's psychiatrist, Dr. Hannibal must have noticed something was wrong a long time ago.
So some secret investigation was conducted on Will Graham.
This may be the real cause of death of Dr. Hannibal.
He discovered the truth.
"I once had the opportunity to expose the murderer, but my wisdom at that time was only in single digits." Ian sighed regretfully, and then looked at Officer Beckett with pleading eyes.
Beckett didn't look back, just stretched out his hand to adjust the shoulder strap, and his tone was unquestionable. "Imp, I've shown you the scene, so you have to go home and stay there now."
"Tomorrow is not the weekend." It was an exception for the policewoman to let Ian come to see the scene. Of course she couldn't lead a mentally ill minor to catch a serial killer.
"No matter what your abilities are, trust me, you won't like being taken away by the military for research." The policewoman took a deep look at Ian and reminded her meaningfully.
"Uh--"
Ian Shan smiled twice.
"Why does the military arrest ordinary citizens for research?" He is not actually worried about this, because his grandfather is a high-ranking military official, and his father is Superman, so the only possibility is that the military's price is too high, and he can help the military capture the Superman class for research.
"I just want to see the murderer of my psychiatrist brought to justice. As you know, mental patients have pathological dependence and emotions on their psychiatrists."
Ian blinked, showing an innocent expression, and sighed, with a bit of sadness in his tone,
It is obvious that he has started playing the psychotic version of the t1 card again.
However.
This time, Beckett obviously didn't take this trick. She finally turned around, took a deep look at him, and then smiled slightly - that smile was definitely not beautiful.
"Do you want me to call your parents and ask them to pick you up?" she asked slowly,
The tone was so gentle that it was almost equivalent to a silent threat.
Ian's expression froze instantly.
He didn't expect that after just three meetings, the other party would already grasp his weakness.
"You are cruel!"
Ian swallowed, and after all, he ate it, and did not continue to insist on being Psoriasis. Regarding this, Beckett's smile was very satisfied, and she nodded and emphasized to Ian again.
"Very good, hurry up and go home - don't ever call me again to ask me how you should deal with the blood stains after you killed a pig weighing more than 100 kilograms at home so that your neighbors who are jealous of your pork will not find out about this problem." To be honest, in the eyes of officer Beckett, she had always felt that Ian looked like a serial killer.
Because of this.
She usually sends text messages every now and then to check on Ian's current situation.
"I was writing a novel - God knows why there are so many lawns outside my house, but I never have enough mushrooms to eat." Ian defended his reputation.
Beckett rolled her eyes. She ignored Ian, turned to Miss Misha, who was still sobbing softly, and patted her shoulder gently.
"We will catch him." The policewoman promised in a low voice, her voice firm and steady, "Please believe us, we have found the murderer, and he will get the punishment he deserves."
Beckett didn't know how to comfort others, so she could only try to give the assurance that the police should have. Her branch was different from other branches that required money to report crimes.
There are also dedicated police officers in the American police force. Before they were corrupted, most police officers had a fairly dedicated heart. After all, in this country, only those who dare to choose the police as a career are from police lords. Young people more or less have the heart to be a "hero", but their lives are often not satisfactory.
"Punishment? Are you going to put him in jail?" Misha raised his head, his eyes were red, but his eyes were no longer just sad - but something sharper.
"It's a matter for the judge to decide." Beckett didn't say much. He just looked at Ian after driving, and then left the apartment with his relatives.
Only a few policemen guarding the door were left at the murder scene, as well as forensic personnel who continued to conduct on-site investigation. The room became quiet again, with only the suppressed sobs of Misha left.
Ian scratched his head, walked to Miss Misha, hesitated for a moment, and then comforted him, "Hannibal will definitely end up in Heaven if he doesn't eat people."
If Ms. Misha was not an acquaintance of his, Ian would have chosen to turn around and leave. However, the difference between his attitude toward an acquaintance and his attitude towards someone he didn't owe has always been very big.
"Heaven?"
Misha's shoulders shook slightly. She raised her head, her eyes empty and sad.
"Assuming there really are Heaven and Hell in this world - it may not be a good thing for my brother." Her voice was so soft that it was almost inaudible.
"Before my brother died, he hung himself from the rafter. Forced by this damn guy, my brother hanged himself with his own intestines."
Miss Misha paused, with a bitter curve at the corner of her mouth, "Do you know what this means? As a person who committed suicide, my brother can't get into Heaven."
Ms. Misha, who works and studies for a doctorate in psychology, knows all walks of life. She seems to have two doctorates and a master's degree in her school profile.
"Is there another way to live Heaven--" Ian hesitated for a moment, but still did not sell Indulgence to Miss Misha. After all, he has not yet started such business.
It has not been tested, so naturally you cannot give blind hope to acquaintances. Only businessmen will cheat the acquaintances around them, but capitalists generally will not. Capitalists only cheat people they are not familiar with before going bankrupt.
At least this is the case for new-age capitalists like Ian.
"What did you say?"
Miss Misha noticed that Ian hesitated to speak.
"Nothing, I just realized that Will··Graham must have a morbid obsession with Hannibal. Perhaps he knew that he was a bad guy, so he let Hannibal treat people to death so horribly. His purpose was not just torture, but he also wanted Hannibal to go to Hell first and wait for him."
Ian did read a lot of psychology books, so he made a truly reasonable psychological profile based on his own knowledge and the on-site situation.
"Maybe you're right."
Ms. Misha also agrees with Ian's judgment.
"My brother has long been aware of the guy's recklessness, but he didn't tell me what happened to the guy -" "-Until just now, I finally realized why my brother kept saying he was dangerous." When Miss Misha brought ingredients to Hannibal to cook, Hannibal refused her request to contact Will.
"Sure enough, Hannibal is secretly investigating Will."
Ian also verified his previous guess at this time. He suddenly realized that in this world of his own, all the "badness" of Hannibal might have been absorbed by Will.
Hannibal? Not bad, so dad, you trust him.
Will? It's double bad, so Will looked gloomy before. Ian is really a little annoyed at this moment, why didn't he realize this earlier.
Although he didn't have any letters in his hand before, his wisdom shouldn't be so stupid that he deleted it.
"It's not a "deserved punishment" for the police to put a damn guy in jail." Misha's fingernails dug deeply into the porcelain heart while Ian was thinking.
Her voice seemed to be squeezed out from between her teeth through gritted teeth.
Ian looked at her and suddenly felt something was wrong. The eyes of this normally gentle psychological counselor had changed at this moment, like some kind of beast that was forced to a desperate end.
Always ready to bite back.
"What are you going to do?"
Ian asked tentatively.
Misha slowly raised his head, with a cold smile on his lips.
"Will wouldn't wait for the police at the lake house." She said softly, "Zhe could only be a trap."
Her fingers tapped lightly on the table.
The pace is slow and dangerous.
"I will be prepared and then go find him myself." Miss Misha said every word, her tone full of hatred, "He will pay a hundred times the price for what he has done."
"Uh, this is not a good idea." Ian looked at her and suddenly felt a little headache. After all, this counselor was afraid that she was going to degenerate into "Miss Misha who wants to eat people." He didn't like to see Miss Misha who loved to share sandwich cookies with students, but one day she actually shared genuine sandwich cookies with everyone.
Of course.
Miss Misha may also be made into sandwich biscuits by Will. This guy's IQ is about the same as Hannibal, but slightly lower than Ian's, which is about seven or eight.
"Ian, I know you care about me, but you can't stop me. The murderer should pay the price of being killed!" Miss Misha said firmly.
Ian also knows that you can't help but delete it.
"I think you misunderstood what I meant - I mean, smart people don't take risks.
Instead, he will choose to use his money power to hire others to kidnap his enemies for him."
"Do you want me to recommend you some reliable mercenaries? Besides, I sometimes sell nuclear bombs Ian." Ian has never had the character to advise others to retaliate against injustice since he was a child.
"????"
Miss Misha, who was still tear-stained and had a gloomy look on her face, was stunned on the spot. She felt that she might have heard wrong, or that the student in front of her was trying to make her laugh?
Is it also possible to buy nuclear bombs?
Faced with Ian's shocking speech of "I can sell nuclear bombs", Miss Misha barely managed a smile on her pale face. She stretched out her hand to rub her temples and tried her best to suppress her sadness.
"You're just a kid, don't get involved in this kind of thing..."
Miss Misha's voice is as light as a feather, but it carries a firmness that cannot be compromised.
"My brother was worried about several of his patients before he died. He asked me to arrange the follow-up treatment of these patients." She raised her tired eyes and looked at the boy in front of her who was wearing a black sweatshirt with the word [CD] printed on it, and half of the bodybuilding drug bottle was exposed from his pocket.
"This definitely does not include me." Ian crossed his arms confidently and raised his chin slightly, as if he was announcing a universally recognized truth.
Misha has no positive rebuttal.
She just took out a piece of meal paper from the drawer of the coffee table, and took out a pen from her bag. Her movements were very slow, as if she was using these subtle movements to sort out her fragmented emotions.
"I will recommend a few doctors to you." She said, writing down a few strings of three-word numbers on a napkin, "They are all psychiatrists with very good standards and professionalism in the industry."
Miss Misha pushed the napkin towards Ian.
But the latter didn't even look at it.
"Do these doctors think they are good at acting, but in their hearts they just pretend that I am not sick?" Ian suddenly asked, with a glimmer of confusion in his eyes.
Misha's hand stopped in mid-air.
The pen tip left a small smear of ink on some other pieces of paper.
She tidied up her language a little, and said it like a popular science, "In the treatment of mental illness, professional doctors will treat their patients with the same gentle attitude as ordinary people."
"Yes, a professional doctor will not treat you as a patient, at least he will not let you know that he is treating you as a patient." Miss Misha once again misunderstood Ian's concerns.
"No, if you are smart enough like me, you can figure it out."
"The underlying logic here is that they already know that I am not sick, and they still want to take money out of my pocket! Doctor Hannibal is different. Doctor Hannibal will always tell me that I am seriously ill. I know that Doctor Hannibal also knows that I am not sick, but he will pretend that I am sick because he is so rich in money."
"This is a professional service attitude!" Ian slammed the coffee table, causing several empty cups to jingle. His logical chain was shockingly clear.
Misha opened his mouth and was unable to respond.
The pen also fell to the ground with a clatter.
Her professionalism was fighting fiercely with common sense - at first glance, this boy seemed to have used the logic of a psychopath to perfectly close the loop on the understanding of a psychopath and a psychiatrist.
Miss Misha wanted to refute, but couldn't find it. At this moment, the boy asked again, "Oh, deleted. Can other psychiatrists help me treat my patients for free?"
This is the problem that Ian is concerned about. Although Lord Ian is already very rich, his money must be used to display his money making ability and use low-price products to exchange for the widespread belief of the people.
"W-what patient of yours?"
Miss Misha's expression was strange and high, as if she had temporarily forgotten her sadness.
"I guarantee that I have hundreds of mental patients in my hands." Ian tried his best to sound "light". This is not something worth showing off.
Misha's expression froze.
"Your parents... have sent you to a mental hospital to live?" Her eyes slowly swept over Ian's body, and her tone was somewhat uncertain.
No way.
Only in this case did she feel that Ian could know hundreds of mental patients.
"Of course this is impossible, they love me! Even if they send themselves to a mental hospital, they will not send me to a mental hospital!" Ian retorted to Miss Misha in a firm and righteous tone.
..
Miss Misha was speechless again.
She felt that she might have underestimated Ian's condition in the past.
"I am actually forced to be a psychiatrist. The specific situation is very complicated... Just think that I am schizophrenic and have hundreds of personalities that need treatment."
Ian wouldn't mind hitting the psycho again.
Misha's eyes became extremely complicated. She stared at Ian for ten seconds and suddenly sighed, "Many doctors are good at treating schizophrenia."
"But if they find out that you are acting as a middleman, they will take you to court and ask for the medical fees and various compensations you deserve. You have no chance of winning this kind of case."
Law is also Ms. Misha's specialty. She has been able to serve as Ian's counselor for several years, naturally because she is familiar with the law and knows how to avoid the "monster" tactics that Ian may adopt if he is annoyed.
Because she knew Ian's behavior as a trafficker in school, after thinking about the situation, Ms. Misha once again mistakenly believed that Ian was going to become a middleman in psychiatric treatment.
Because the version updates too quickly.
She doesn't know yet that Ian is already on the road to becoming a chaebol.
"Damn, these psychiatrists are rubbish! It's not like Dr. Hannibal, who will only help me become a psychiatrist and the king of psychiatrists for free!" Ian's expression instantly collapsed. Metropolis God of Gamblers is quitting gambling recently. He will no longer be in court with the evil elites.
"Your brother was so kind before. He cared about me most of the night and promised me that if I had any questions, I could ask him for free." This was a moment that Ian Hannibal missed so much.
Mentioning Hannibal's gentleness, the corners of Misha's mouth turned up unconsciously, revealing an extremely bitter smile, "Yes.:. My brother is a philosopher."
"He will do anything he thinks will benefit his patient's condition...:" Her eyes drifted to the rain curtain outside the window, "Even if the patient needs his help with cooking or washing clothes...:"
As soon as these words came out.
Ian jumped up from the sofa on the spot.
"What?! Hannibal is asking for this kind of service?!" Ian has long heard that Hannibal is an excellent cook, but he has always thought that Hannibal is just a person who has great cooking skills.
Like a millimeter.
It was obvious that Hannibal was a good person and was good at cooking beef, mutton and other non-human meat. This made Ian think of the delicacies that he had refused to eat from Hannibal.
"What's wrong with you?
Misha was startled by Ian's reaction. Ian did not answer, but weighed the pros and cons and walked around the living room twice as if thinking. Then he suddenly approached Misha.
"Do you have three hundred dollars?"
This sudden inquiry was a little too thought-provoking.
Miss Misha was stunned for a second.
She couldn't keep up with Ian's brain circuit, but she still opened her wallet mechanically and counted out three wrinkled hundred-dollar bills. "Do you want a taxi home?"
This means that Ian is ready to leave.
However.
Ian grabbed the money but shook his head.
"I want to use this to buy some heat."
After saying that, he rushed into the kitchen.
Misha followed him blankly and saw Ian rummaging through the cupboard.
"What are you doing?"
Miss Misha stared at Ian with great hatred. After rummaging around in the cupboard, the boy took out a cup and asked her passionately.
"Do you think Dr. Hannibal will like this cartoon style thermos cup?" Ian held up a powder blue thermos cup with Winnie the Pooh eating honey printed on the cup.
"Zhe is... my cup."
Miss Misha responded somewhat blankly.
"Oh, just right!" Ian's eyes were frighteningly bright, "There is sister's love in the cup, Hannibal will definitely like to live in it! The power of logging is really everywhere!"
Before Misha could react.
Ian This strange boy had rushed out of the door like a gust of wind, holding a Winnie the Pooh thermos cup and three hundred-dollar bills in his hand, and disappeared at the end of the apartment corridor.
"He doesn't seem to be taking the third ladder--" Miss Misha's thinking was completely confused. She could only try to substitute Ian, thinking that Ian might be a doctor who wanted to offer her summer heat in front of the tombstone of Hannibal.
As for the cup.
"Hiss~"
Miss Misha took a deep breath.
She was pregnant with Ian and wanted to use a thermos cup to hold her brother's ashes. Is this strange? If you put yourself in the mind of a mental patient, maybe some mental patients would do this kind of thing!
"Expansion~"
At this moment.
There was a sound of falling inside the apartment.
Ian Actually, I took three stairs, but I walked to the next floor first, then moved the door that took three stairs, and followed the three stairs to the underground parking lot in one go.
"Buzz buzz~"
The roar of Hellcat sounded.
It carried Ian and rushed towards the bustling street.
Of course Ms. Misha's money should be spent where it should be spent. Ian is not a person who is greedy for petty gains. His rules are very clear, so the three hundred US dollars should be spent where it should be spent.
Ian was whizzing by on the streets of New York with his "Hellcat" sports car. He bought a bouquet of sunflowers for 50 US dollars, and then ordered coffee and steak at a Western restaurant for 250 US dollars.
The waiter gave him a strange look. "First of all, are you dining alone?"
P?
"No," God Ian smiled secretly, "I'm waiting for a lady."
When the steak and coffee were served, Ian did not move. Instead, she clasped her hands together, closed her eyes, and began to pray in a low voice—not to God nor to Satan.
But to his old acquaintance "Lady Death".
Different from usual, there was no interference from Flash this time, and Lady Death responded extremely quickly. Time in the restaurant seemed to have not frozen, and other customers were still chatting and laughing.
The sound of clinking knives and forks kept coming and going.
And Lady Death did not appear out of thin air. She walked in from the front door gracefully, as if she was just an ordinary beautiful gothic woman who accidentally entered the restaurant to dine.
Yes.
Lady Death loves Gothic style. She wore a well-tailored black dress, and her skin was so pale that it was almost transparent.
Her red lips were as red as blood, and she was breathtakingly beautiful under the soft lights of the restaurant.
"Quite attentive."
Lady Death walked straight to Ian and sat down, his own light falling on the untouched steak.
"Why did you only order one portion?"
Lady Death raised his eyebrows.
Ian showed a formulaic smile and quietly turned on his mobile phone.
"If I don't eat, you can eat more."
He was reading from the script, and as he spoke, he pushed the bouquet of plastic flowers in front of her,
"Sent to you."
Ian's smile is as formulaic as it gets.
"If I didn't know how much money you have in your account, and if you were reading a simple love story just now, I would almost believe you." Lady Death took the heat and lowered his head to smell it.
"Plastic summer, add a little of the perfume you stole from your mother, how can you express that your feelings will never fade?" Lady Death has indeed been hiding in the corner and secretly paying attention to Ian.
At least after listening to her words, Ian became more convinced of this.
"It's a pity, it almost didn't make sense."
As soon as Lady Death finished speaking, the plastic bundle suddenly withered and faded at a speed visible to the naked eye. After opening, it turned into a pile of ashes and fell on the white tablecloth.
The waiter happened to pass by, but he didn't seem to see anything. He was obviously cognitively disturbed.
"You have nothing to do to be courteous but to be treacherous." Lady Death picked up the knife and elegantly cut off a small piece of steak, "Do you want to save your psychiatrist?"
Deleted from Ian's own, Lady Death showed his omniscience.
Ian's expression suddenly became extremely serious, and he admitted from the bottom of his heart. "I can't go to my doctor, just like Teletubbies can't go to the summer garden for my baby."
Other psychiatrists are not in line with Ian's wishes.
Or rather.
He has always been a nostalgic person.
"It's quite an old job." Lady Death chewed the steak slowly, the corners of his bright red lips raised slightly. "You know that your medical complaint is 'sexual invasion', delete it?"
Delete this, Ian did not deny it, nor did he act stupid.
"So, is he in Hell? I have asked Lucifer, but I prefer to connect with you." Ian's poor green tea skills made people laugh.
However, Lady Death took a sip of coffee and seemed to be in a good mood. "It is true that we are living in Hell. Souls like theirs, our current decision is to lead them to Angel of Death."
This is obviously the result of discussions between the Endless Family and God families.
It's secret.
But it was still casually leaked by Lady Death - mainly because in her eyes, Ian was growing very fast, and maybe "abstract" living gods would really appear in the universe soon.
"Do you want me to help you restore him?" Lady Death didn't bother to talk about Ian's situation. She just asked lightly, as if she was just asking about something as trivial as whether to add sugar to the coffee.
"Shh!"
Ian quickly raised his index finger to his lips.
He looked at the flowers and looked at the sky outside, "Don't let my dad hear this. I've already treated you to steak. Why do you want to deprive me of my legitimate reason to bravely enter Hell?"
The young man felt that Lady Death was a bit of a white-eyed wolf.
However, his high emotional intelligence prevented him from complaining.
Lady Death put down the knife and fork and looked directly at Ian with sharp eyes.
"So, you couldn't find the entrance to Hell, so you came to me?"
Her tone was determined.
Ian shook his head very sincerely.
"I'm just giving you some chance to talk to me."
His expression was really sincere, and this made Lady Death's expression freeze on his face, and even the steak he ate seemed to be suddenly stuck in his throat.
She put down the cutlery.
There was silence for a long time.
"The compass I gave you before will guide you to Hell." After saying that, she stood up, picked up the half-left steak and coffee, and walked towards the door without looking back.
A bunch of plastic bags that had turned to dust were left on the table.
"Next time-"
The figure of the goddess stopped in front of the gate, but her voice seemed to float from a distance, "If you don't want me to bear your mental attack, you have to give me the heat that will never wither."
The voice fell.
Her figure disappeared like mist in the lights of the restaurant. The surrounding customers seemed not to notice this scene at all and were still enjoying their dinner.
"You must be shy, you must be shy." Ian took out the compass he had used to find Dream God. The pointer was spinning crazily, and it pointed firmly to the southeast.
"Lord Ian Hell Adventures! Official flower machine!"
Ian couldn't wait and ordered another steak worth 600 US dollars for himself. He would not treat himself badly. He ate it thoroughly and then walked towards his Hellcat again.
Use Hellcat to bravely enter Hell.
Very reasonable.