When the cold mist sticks to the colder glass, it condenses into tiny water droplets. Strings of water droplets are connected together. When they slide down from the top of the window frame, they look like a warm pearl necklace.
Like a monster in the dark, claws stretched out from top to bottom.
After the fine water mist converges, the traces flowing out make the glass appear clearer, and looking through these traces, a figure leaning on a chair appears paler than the mist.
Although he did not look haggard or fragile at all, his skin color had an extremely abnormal paleness. He stretched out his almost bloodless fingers and touched his cheek, then straightened up and held the armrests of the chair with both hands.
, straightened his back.
And when he opened his eyes, the pupil in the center of the gray eyeball was extremely small, and the remaining area was like a lifeless desert, looking very desolate.
When he concentrated his attention and cast his eyes on something, he felt extremely abnormal concentration, but also seemed a little distracted.
The knocking sound of "dong dong dong" came from the door, and it could be heard that the person knocking on the door was very unsure, and the last sound was inaudible.
This cannot be blamed on Merkel standing outside the door, because just now, Schiller stepped back into the soil of the garden from the house and used a garden shovel to dig out all the flower fertilizer that had been buried.
Spread the relatively complete parts on the ground, turn over each part with a garden shovel, and pick and choose, like a customer in a vegetable market.
Merkel could tell that Schiller didn't find what he was looking for, so he felt that knocking on the door now was not a wise choice.
But as a butler, he had the responsibility to inform his master of the upcoming trip. Merkel could only knock on the door and pray that whoever made Schiller become like this would never be implicated.
On him.
"Come in." Schiller's voice seemed a little low, but not angry. It seemed too calm, but it made Merkel's heart beat violently.
It's like walking alone in the forest, but suddenly hearing a strange noise, the fear is not strong, but continuous.
Merkel took a deep breath, tried hard to recall what she had learned in the emotional stability class, and mustered up the courage to turn the doorknob.
Pushing the door open, closing the door, and turning on the lights were a series of quick and smooth actions, but when Merkel stood in the room, she had forgotten what she was going to say.
"What are you afraid of?" Schiller's voice came from behind the somewhat dark desk. He said, "I know you are here to inform me that a group of people came to me before I held a banquet to invite them.
You want to invite me to a banquet, which is unreasonable and boring."
Merkel was silent and did not speak, because his instinct was telling him that the other party was not chatting with him. Merkel did not even hear the boredom he often heard in the other party's tone, which was different from her.
The content of what was said is completely inconsistent.
"It's a little dark in here, sir, do you want to turn on the light?" Merkel stood next to the switch on the wall, but she wished that there was a bigger darkness that he could stand in.
"No, I don't want to turn on the light." Schiller's answer revealed a seriousness. Merkel had never heard the professor answer his question so positively, but this was actually not happy news.
Merkel has long discovered that there is more than one Schiller, but because she has never met other Schillers, she does not know whether the Schiller who hired her is a good or bad person among them.
But now, he knows that his career and every path he chooses have cost him a lot of luck.
"Come here and let me remember your face." Schiller said to Merkel: "I suffer from prosopagnosia, so I usually don't distinguish each person by the characteristics of their facial features."
Merkel only took one step forward, and then he said: "It doesn't matter, sir, you don't need to remember the face of any butler, we will wait here forever."
"I like your attitude very much, so you don't have to hold back the bad news and wait for an opportunity to speak." Schiller tapped the table lightly with the pen in his hand and said.
Merkel only felt more nervous, and her Adam's apple trembled up and down. She instinctively reached out and pressed the light switch, as if controlling the time when the light came would give him some sense of security.
"The Falcone family has sent an invitation. I hope you can go to Falcone Manor tonight to attend the family dinner hosted by the godfather. The invitation specifically states that you are not allowed to bring weapons."
When she said the last sentence, Merkel had already begun to grit her teeth. Schiller nodded, stood up from the chair, put one hand in the pocket of his suit on the left and said: "This is what every person who lives in the upper class has to say."
A stupid question that every scholar will hear: Will not allowing a weak person to carry a gun make him feel guilty?"
Merkel bit the bullet and replied: "This is not a rule for you alone. Of course you are free to disobey it. This is actually just a polite, unarmed warning, which is of no use in Gotham."
"Turn on the light," Schiller said.
There was a "pop" sound, and there was a soft sound when the switch was flipped. The moment the lights came on, Merkel only saw those desert-like eyes. Because they were not used to the sudden light, their pupils shrank even more.
Small.
"You don't have to worry. I'm different from him. I have enough patience with these social etiquette and entertainments, and understand the rules. I enjoy the honor brought by the upper class society, and I understand the price to pay for enjoying this kind of respect." Xi.
Merkel said the longest and most complex words since he opened his mouth, but it did not let Merkel breathe a sigh of relief at all.
In the past, many times, Merkel desperately hoped that Schiller could explain something to him, because explanations always make people feel relaxed, as if the other party is paying attention to you, values you, and is fully devoted to you.
The conversation gives people a hint that "this conversation will definitely go smoothly."
But now, Schiller's explanation only makes Merkel's heart tighten more and more tightly, because he instinctively feels that it is not a good thing at all to have a happy talk with the current Schiller.
"I remember that there were two bottles of good red wine in the wine cabinet." Schiller walked out from behind the desk and walked out of the door. He said to Merkel: "I'm going to change clothes. You can help me put the wine."
Load it up and help me drive the car to the door, thank you."
After Schiller walked out of the room, Merkel leaned against the wall as if he was about to faint. When his back touched the wall, he felt an amazing chill coming from him, which was about to freeze.
Cold sweat.
After Merkel prepared the red wine, he saw Schiller walking out of the room. He did not wear the black suit he had always liked to wear before, but wore a dark brown plaid suit and black
He was wearing a turtleneck sweater and no glasses.
This was the first time Merkel could see Schiller's gray eyes so clearly, but he still felt that this was not a good thing.
Because these eyes have a wonderful magic power. When you look directly at him, you always feel that the other person understands you wholeheartedly, and even understands you deeper than yourself.
Standing at the window on the second floor of the manor, Merkel saw Schiller carrying a bag and walking out of the door.
But before he got in the car, the headlights of the car in front of him suddenly turned on, and the light beam from the headlights shone on Schiller's body. His pupils shrank too small, making his eyes look like a blind man who had been blind for a long time.
When the car lights came on, Schiller saw a figure sitting in the driver's seat, but Schiller still walked to the side of the car, opened the back seat door, got in, and said, "Falcone Manor."
The shudder of the engine starting made the wine in the bottle sway slightly. The figure sitting in the driver's seat saw Schiller's eyes in the mirror above the rear seat.
"Who are you?" Schiller asked proactively.
"I am your driver." The figure sitting in the driver's seat replied.
"Do you have any special obsession with drivers?" Schiller turned sideways, straightened the red wine placed on another seat, so that the side of the bag was tightly pressed against the back of the seat, and then he sat down
Upright, lean your back completely against the back of the seat, and look into the rearview mirror of the car.
"Professor, I'm sorry that our first meeting was under such circumstances, but I actually want to tell you that you don't have to attend the next banquet at all, because it will be a boring performance, as long as now
When the car turns a corner, you will have three more meaningful hours in your life."
"Is this what you came to do as a driver?" Schiller kept his eyes locked on the mirror, ensuring that the figure in front of him could see his eyes through the mirror. He said, "If I don't plan to turn, what are you going to do?
?”
"Of course I won't take any violent measures. There is no beauty in it. But I have to tell you that this is not a banquet, but a bloody execution. Those who have fed them will eventually be killed.
them."
"You came here, drove my car, and persuaded me to make a turn, but you didn't have to go through such a roundabout way with a psychologist. You came to ensure that I would be able to reach the banquet site, and you also came to ensure that I
I will definitely maintain the highest level of interest to watch your performance."
Schiller's eyes didn't blink in the mirror. The person sitting in the front row shook his head with an extremely slight movement. The fat on the side of his cheeks seemed to tremble along with the bumps of the vehicle. He looked in the mirror.
Schiller's eyes, asked "...what's wrong with your eyes?"
"My eyesight is not very good, and I suffer from severe prosopagnosia. When you park the car and step out of the cab, I won't remember what you look like." Schiller said: "So,
You don’t need to wear a mask at all, and I won’t be able to recognize who you are during the rest of the banquet.”
The hand on the steering wheel tightened, and the figure in the driver's seat continued to look up at the mirror and said, "Can I say? I feel a little disappointed. You don't seem to want to discuss with me what will happen at the next banquet.
It’s not at all as strict, pungent, and aggressive as you showed in your article.”
"Or... you are not actually a brutal enough serial killer as described in your article? You are actually neither cold nor cruel. You look like a madman on the surface, but in fact, you have never done anything like this.
Anyone who goes against the rules and stands with the hypocritical Batman is his friend, not his enemy."
"You are very perceptive." Schiller said: "For a long time, this was indeed the case."
"I seem crazy, but I have never hurt innocent people. I seem to be suffering from severe mental illness, but I can also think rationally. I seem to be an enemy of Batman, but I have been trying to save him. Do you know why?
?”
The person in front didn't answer, so Schiller answered himself: "Because Batman at that time was very boring. If he couldn't grow up, then there would be no point in standing opposite him."
"It sounds like he has changed a bit?" the person sitting in front asked in a relaxed tone.
"Both of us have changed a lot." Schiller's fingers gently brushed the top of the red wine bottle cork. He said: "He has grown up, and my biggest gain is that I finally don't have to look at a baby like a baby.
, watching him closely."
Schiller's mouth was deliberately paused for a while, he lowered his eyes, covered his eyes, and deliberately kept his voice low, saying like a snake hissing: