I Rely on My X-Ray Vision

The sea breeze, carrying a salty, fishy smell, rushed towards him. Waves crashed against the rocks, splashing Tom all over. He quickly stepped back and shook the water droplets off his robe.

Today is August 3rd. He used the Portkey he had applied for in advance and it took him several hours to get to Paris.

The moment they landed, the blank invitation changed; a golden arrow emerged from the center of the paper, pointing straight in one direction.

Tom immediately understood; this was Nicolas Flamel's guiding trick, and he followed the arrow forward.

He initially thought the arrow pointed to somewhere in Paris, but after walking for half an hour without changing direction, Tom simply unfolded his light wings and took to the air.

The flight lasted for more than an hour, covering over 600 kilometers, before finally reaching the beach.

The old man under the awning wore sunglasses and seemed to be resting with his eyes closed, but if you got close enough, you could hear him muttering to himself:

"This is great, this is great, the butt is so perky!"

"This one's pretty good too, it's dazzling my old eyes, but it's definitely the real deal!"

"Oh my, twins too! What a blessing!"

"Tsk, where did this fat woman come from? Get lost, you're blocking my view!"

"This back pain is really killing this old bone of mine!"

Tom stood by the awning, clutching the invitation letter sent by Nicolas Flamel.

He first gave the invitation a thumbs up, then looked at the old man staring at the beautiful woman with drooling eyes, his expression so complicated it could be twisted into a pretzel.

For the first time in his life, Tom doubted Nicolas Flamel's alchemical skills: Was this invitation perhaps directed to the wrong place?

Tom followed his gaze. On the beach, several women in bikinis were playing volleyball.

"Mr. Nicolas Flamel?" Tom called out tentatively.

The old man took off his sunglasses, revealing a pair of cloudy but shrewd eyes.

He looked Tom up and down, then smiled, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling together.

"Child, you came much faster than I expected."

The voice was kind and gentle, which confused Tom for a moment: How on earth can you stare at a beautiful woman so intently while speaking in such a kind tone?

Tom stopped being coy and stepped forward to stand on the right side of the recliner, tentatively asking, "Mr. Nicolas Flamel? Is it really you?"

"Haha, who else could it be but me?" The old man glanced one last time at the beautiful woman not far away before nodding and smiling at Tom.

"The invitation was only activated a little over an hour ago, and you've already rushed here from Paris?"

"I know a flying spell that makes me travel very fast." Tom finally confirmed the old man's identity and quickly relayed the message.

"Master Newt Scamander asked me to give you his regards. He said he'll come to see you once the French Ministry of Magic lifts its ban on him."

Nicolas Flamel chuckled. "This boy is honest. Actually, Tina Goldstein isn't that strict with him; he's just afraid of causing Tina Goldstein trouble."

As he spoke, he looked at Tom, his eyes full of admiration, "The flying spell is incredible enough, but the speed is also amazing. Kid, you've given me a pleasant surprise as soon as you showed up."

Tom forced a smile, his lips twitching slightly. "You surprised me too."

What I really thought was: This isn't a surprise, it's a shock.

"Hahaha, I get it, I get it!" Nicolas Flamel shoved the sunglasses into Tom and joked.

"Do you think I should be a serious, old-fashioned man like Albus?"

Tom, ever the honest man, added, "Not really, more like Professor McGonagall, with her stern face lecturing people."

"Young people, they're just too stereotypical," the old man said with a sly smile.

"Even so-called masters are human, especially old things like me who have lived for hundreds of years. Of course, I yearn for young and beautiful bodies."

"Since I can't move, I can only feast my eyes. I can't let myself suffer, can I?"

As he spoke, he patted Tom's arm and urged, "Come on, take a look. Even though you don't need it now, it's good to cultivate your aesthetic sense in advance."

Tom glanced at the deck chair, then at the coconut tree pattern printed on the old man's floral shirt, and sat down.

Nicolas Flamel handed him the drink. "Want some? Coconut flavored. Non-alcoholic."

"Thanks, I... I think I have pretty good taste." Tom chuckled awkwardly, reluctantly putting on his sunglasses. Damn, they were even see-through?

He calmly removed his sunglasses, then calmly put them in his pocket, secretly pleased with himself.

Traditional alchemy combined with modern fashion items—this is a steal! I'll have to study this carefully later.

Seeing his little gesture, Nicolas Flamel's smile deepened, showing no concern whatsoever for his precious sunglasses.

"Albus Dumbledore said you have a great talent for alchemy."

"At first I didn't believe it. What kind of talent could a first-year student have? But then he sent me your paper, and after reading it, I found it quite interesting."

Nicolas Flamel pointed to a woman walking past them and gestured with his chin towards Tom. "How about this one? I think her legs are a bit long."

Tom's stomach was growling with hunger, so he took out the hamburger Tina Goldstein had prepared for him and started taking big bites.

He didn't even ask Nicolas Flamel if he wanted some; with the old man's few loose teeth, one bite of a hamburger would probably break them.

The old man sipped his specially prepared liquid food, watching Tom wolf it down with great interest.

Seeing how much the boy was enjoying his food, even the bland liquid food in my hand seemed more palatable. It turned out I was using Tom to make my meal more palatable.

After Tom finished eating, Nicolas Flamel slowly got up and folded up the sun lounger.

He found a corner where no one would notice, tapped his finger, and the chair instantly shrank, disappearing into his bag.

"I was hoping to stay until the afternoon, but since you're here, let's go home."

Tom followed behind him, whispering sweet nothings:

"If you like watching, next time I'll recommend a place, Spain, it's even more exciting, I guarantee you won't be able to take your eyes off it."

"How exciting? I hope it doesn't kill this old man," Nicolas Flamel joked with a laugh.

The boy curled his lip, looking disdainful. "Come on, you've been watching for so long and nothing's happened. I'm immune to it by now. It's not that easy to get rid of it."

Nicolas Flamel paused for a moment, then burst into laughter, patting Tom on the shoulder. "You know me pretty well, buddy."

The two walked along the beach for a long time; Nicolas Flamel's steps were small, but his pace was very fast.

Each step is the same distance, as stable as a machine.

As Tom walked, he realized that Nicolas Flamel's legs were nothing like the frail, limping figure he portrayed in "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them."

Tom looked down at his feet, and upon closer inspection, Tom discovered another secret:

Nicolas Flamel's every step was perfectly precise; with his keen eyesight, he couldn't detect the slightest error.

"You noticed?" Nicolas Flamel asked with a smile, noticing his gaze.