King of 25 Cubs

I lowered my steps, slowly approached the dirty window covered with oil, and looked inside.

The warehouse was very dark, and people's faces could not be seen clearly, only a vague pile of debris and figures near the pile of debris could be seen.

The figure is not tall, probably between the height of a child and a teenager, slender and thin, and seems to be wearing a furry hat... Well, this is not a characteristic, many Russians wear such a parka.

He is looking for something.

Are you also looking for the former owner's old things like me?

I suddenly felt a sense of crisis. If there are any useful clues left here, I must not let the other party get them.

The slender figure crouched | body, lifted something like a lid, and soon, the figure disappeared.

There is also a cellar in the warehouse?

I cautiously pushed open the warehouse door without making a sound, slipped in sideways, and walked to the place where the figure disappeared.

There is indeed a cellar here.

Do you want to follow him down and see what he's looking for?

I shook my head, denied this idea, and reached out decisively to hang the copper lock on the cellar door.

Hey, you won't be able to come out in a while!

I moved a chair and sat at the exit of the cellar, arms folded, waiting.

It seems that the size of the cellar is not small, and the man came up after about ten minutes.

The cellar door was pushed, only a small gap was exposed, and it couldn't be pushed anymore.

As if not sure, the man pushed again.

The strong copper lock sealed the cellar, and the other party became my prisoner at this moment.

Surprised? Unexpected?

Seemingly aware of what happened, the other party stopped trying. After a moment of silence, he spoke first.

"#￥%&*..."

It was in Russian again, and it sounded like a boy.

"Can you speak English?" I asked without hope.

The other party was silent again, and spoke after a while, and it turned out to be fluent English, still with a standard Oxford accent.

"If you wish, we can also communicate in French, German, Italian."

His tone was very calm.

I:"……"

This pretense is so perfect, I can't help but want to applaud.

But I guess, his original intention is not to pretend to be aggressive, but to test my origin.

After all, people who can't speak Russian are definitely not locals. As long as I can determine which country and region I come from, I can use this to analyze some information.

My spoken English was learned during the Victorian period, and because of the tasks and contacts at that time, it still maintains the language habits of the British upper class in the nineteenth century.

This language habit is not the same as the modern one, but it's not too different. From my pronunciation alone, he can't guess anything.

At the same time, I was also thinking about the origin of the other party.

I just came to this orphanage today. Apart from the priests in the orphanage and the church, more than [-]% of the residents in the town must not know that there is an additional child who cannot speak Russian in the Maria orphanage.

So first of all, it can be determined that the other party is not a child from the orphanage, but an outsider.

At this age, a child who is multilingual and can communicate easily in spoken language is either elite-educated, very bright, or both.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

I asked the other person in a leisurely tone.

"Life is hard and I want to steal something and sell it."

He calls himself a thief.

Considering that this house used to belong to my father, and he happened to be full of secrets, so I don't trust the child's words.

There are many geniuses, and children are the most important thing to be underestimated.

I said in a long voice: "This is just a sundry warehouse, there are no valuable things. If there are any, they would have been sold by the dean."

"I heard that the former owner of this house was a rich man."

The speed of the other party's speech is not too fast, and the voice is steady and soothing. This calm and self-consistent is not at all like a prisoner who is locked in the cellar and is undergoing "interrogation", let alone a child: "Maybe the other party left something valuable but it is not easy to be seen." The found object, the dean doesn't know the goods, so come and try your luck."

"So did you find anything of value?"

"Unfortunately, not."

I held my chin in thought for a moment and asked, "Do you want me to let you out?"

The other party understood, and sighed, "What do you need me to do?"

I smiled and said in a particularly irritating tone: "Please."

His tone was still calm: "Obviously, the person who takes the initiative always has some privileges. If my plea can make you feel ecstatic joy and satisfy your condescending vanity, then I beg you to let me out." .”

I:"……"

Although this person is indeed begging me, why does it sound so wrong?

I blinked, squatted at the entrance of the cellar and said to him: "I, who took the initiative, thought your request was not very sincere, so I decided to exercise her privilege. I hope you have a good night in the cellar, and I will call you tomorrow morning." The police will pick you up, good night."

After I finished speaking, I left the warehouse.

But I didn't go far, but picked up a piece of wood from the firewood pile, squatted outside the warehouse, and waited secretly.

The attitude of the other party, as well as my intuition, told me that a brass lock would not be able to lock him. If you are dexterous and have tools, it is not difficult to pick the lock through the narrow gap, and I can do it too.

And I suspect he found something in the cellar.

Sure enough, nearly 10 minutes later, when my snot was freezing, the man pushed the warehouse away.

He looked around cautiously, and just after taking a few steps, he was knocked unconscious with a stick by me who jumped out from behind the door.

I turn the fainted man over.

The wind sent away the stratus clouds, and the silver-white moonlight poured down like water again, and this time I could see the opponent's face clearly.

He is very good-looking, with a delicate and soft beauty that is indistinguishable from men and women, exactly the same as the black-haired and purple-eyed boy I saw in the church.

... Could this really be the old Fei next door eight years ago?

Well, it should be called a tip next door now.

At the moment of beauty, I am indifferent, all I think about is what he found... After all, I am not Mori Ogai, not a teenager.

However, after searching all over the tip next door, including his hat, only some rubles were found in the end.

Did he really find nothing in the warehouse?

Unbelievably, I touched it again from the beginning to the end, not even letting go of the metal buckle of the belt, for fear that the other party might have caught something.

Just as he was checking his belt, a voice that was so calm and almost indifferent suddenly came from above his head: "What are you doing?"

Of course it's a body search...huh? ? ?

I raised my head abruptly, and little Mr. Fyodor was looking at my ... hand.

The hand was on his belt, as if it was about to be untied.

It seems...a bit misleading.

I quickly withdrew my hand as if nothing had happened.

"Hey, your belt seems to be quite valuable..."

"Unfortunately, it's not worth much. You can buy three of them for fifty rubles at a flea market in Moscow."

The boy rubbed the back of his head, sat up slowly, and frowned slightly when he saw the corners of his clothes wet with melted snow, and then gently patted off the snow foam on his coat with slow movements.

After tidying up the clothes, the delicate little Mr. Fyodor raised his head and looked at me again, with a clear voice: "Are you also looking for the thing left by the previous owner of the house? I haven't seen you before when I stepped on the site. You are a newcomer to the orphanage. child?"

that thing?

I just took a look at it tonight, and I didn't have the idea that I would find something. Hearing what the other party said, it seems that the hope of finding something is quite high?

I just said that this person is definitely not a simple thief!

While my thoughts were racing, I thought about it and said, "Why don't we cooperate? I'm in the orphanage, so it's easier to find things, and you can provide me with external support."

Fyodor raised his head, his deep eyes fell on me, then he chuckled, looked away, and said casually, "What external support do you want?"

"Money, mobile phone, hot water bottle..." I emphasized: "And, a pistol|gun."

I made a request first, so as to relax the vigilance of the other party. As for the pistol, it is a kind of temptation.

"Pist|gun?" Fyodor repeated, nodded slightly, and said reservedly: "Yes."

Through this answer, I figured out one thing - it should be easy for him to get a gun, which shows that he has close ties with the Russian underground organization.

The future Majin has already started to commit crimes at this age.

Think about Dazai Osamu who was thinking about philosophical issues in Yugang before. At that time, he easily stole [-] yen from a thief... What happened to you children? !

"Since we want to cooperate, we might as well be honest."

Fyodor looked at me incredulously and said, "We ask each other questions, only one at a time."

"No, let's guess punches. The loser answers a question to the winner; if there is a tie, each answer a question to the other side."

I am very confident in boxing guessing, and Dazai often loses to me.

Ready-made wool, if you don't squeeze it, don't squeeze it!

Fyodor didn't take time to think: "Let's get started."

I bent the corners of my lips: "Let me explain in advance, I played stones in the first round."

Hearing what I said, Fyodor was obviously stunned for a moment, probably he had never seen such a game of guessing.

There are countless thoughts in my heart, and they are spinning crazily: After hearing me say the stone, his first reaction is to release cloth, but it is obvious that the stone is the smoke|bomb I released, and I deliberately let him release the cloth , so I will play scissors; I want to understand that I will play scissors, and he will choose rock. At this time, I should play paper to win him. It's scissors...

All things considered, I will give you a stone!

Then Fyodor came out of the cloth.

I:"……"

Huh? ! ? ! ? ! ! ! !

Seeing my surprised look, Fyodor tilted his head blankly: "Since you plan to give out stones, I will of course give you cloth in order to win you. The result is doomed. Why do you still show such an expression?"

"...I thought you could make scissors."

My voice was vague, and I quickly said: "Okay, I've finished asking your questions, and I've answered you, and I will play scissors in the second game."

Then I had cloth, and Fyodor had scissors.

The boy raised his eyebrows, and said with an innocent face: "Didn't you say you made the scissors? I deliberately let you go. The reason why I lost was because of your dishonesty."

Grass!

I just wanted to punch his beautiful innocent face.

"I'm happy to produce cloth, you can control it!" I gritted my teeth and said, "Continue!"

This time I didn't say what I was going to do, but... I lost again! ! !

Fyodor's eyes flicked across the scissors I took out, and then retracted his eyes without a trace, the corners of his lips curled up slightly.

"Why didn't you tell me what happened this time?"

"It's still the same sentence, I am happy, can you control it?!"

In the next boxing game, we each win or lose. Basically, after I win a round, Fyodor will also win a round.

I might have been tricked by the other party... It's not a possibility, it's a certainty!

When I played boxing games with Dazai before, he was always giving way to me, right?

You bastard, it's a shame that I'm so confident that I can squeeze wool!

Fyodor: "What's your name?"

Me: "Uchiha Grape."

Me: "Where is the former owner of this house now?"

Fyodor: "I don't know, he's missing."

Fyodor: "Why are you interested in the former owner of the house?"

Me: "He's my dad."

Me: "What did the former owner of the house do?"

Fyodor: "He is the former leader of the 'Rats of the Dead House'."

The rat of the dead house?

Hearing this familiar name, my heart suffocated.

The leader of this organization eight years later is the demon Fyodor.

Another question, since Dmitriev is the leader of the House of the Dead, why does it say that he is from the winery in the files of the Secret Service?

Is he also a twenty-five boy?

"It's better to ask each other questions, it will save time."

"Okay." I said wearily.

"Did your father leave you anything?"

"He left me with nothing but a very bad impression." I paused and asked, "Why are you looking for 'that thing'?"

He may not necessarily tell me what he is looking for, but I can use his answers to guess what he is looking for.

"It may answer some of my doubts. Why do you want to find that thing again?"

I don't even know what "that thing" is.

But thinking of the memory fragments I saw from Sigma before, maybe what Fyodor wants to find is the 'book' that can fulfill his wishes?

"I want to know the secret of my life experience. What is your doubt?"

Fyodor fell silent for a long time, then he said softly: "My doubt is, can life, or the world, open a new cycle like a game?"

New, Zhoumu?

My heart froze, my face didn't show, I spread my hands and joked: "If there is, then it must have taken me a long time to pinch my face."

Fyodor ignored my joke and continued: "The last question, since you are the daughter of the former leader, do you want to try to join the 'Rat of the House of Death'? I am a member of this organization and I can recommend you to the higher-ups .”

I turned my eyes slightly, and said calmly: "Why do you want me to join that organization?"

Fyodor's smile was slightly deep: "It is a very interesting and challenging activity to put a troubled princess who has been living among the people on the throne, isn't it?"

Seeing that I was silent, he said, "At eight o'clock tomorrow night, there will be a gathering of important members at the XX bar on XX Road in Moscow. If you are interested, you can wait for me at the door of the bar in advance."

"Let me think about it."

After Fyodor left, my expression collapsed, and I ran tremblingly to the kitchen and picked up the kitchen knife.

Facing the mirror, I put the knife across my neck, and just about to cut it off, my hand stopped again.

"Would this be super painful... It would be nice to have a gun."

If you have a gun, you can just tap the trigger. It is cruel to think about cutting your own neck with a knife.

After hesitating for a long time, I sighed, closed my eyes, and lost my heart.

"Five seconds later, there will be another hero... Fuck, it hurts!!!!!!"

When I opened my eyes again, it was daytime, and I was surrounded by a group of children who were asking questions in Russian.

A kid reached out and pulled my hair.

Then I watched helplessly as he ripped out that not-so-thin lock of hair.

I:"……"

The child pinched my hair, showed a terrified and puzzled expression, and spoke words that I couldn't understand quickly.

I guess what he meant was: "I didn't push it and it fell off by itself!"

Alas, I don't have a split index, and today is also a bald day.

With no expression on my face, I pulled the boy by the back of his collar, threw him out the window, and then went to the room of Dean Karama.

"Dean, can you give me some rubles? I want to buy a hot water bottle, it's too cold in the house."

I adjusted my facial expression and said in a timid and somewhat shy tone.

The fat dean who drank himself into a blush again took out his wallet and threw it at me.

Uh, isn't that too generous?

I suspect he's intoxicated.

After pulling out a few banknotes, I returned the wallet to the dean, left the orphanage, went to a small store to buy a hot water bottle, then held the change coins and walked towards the direction of the public phone in my memory.

Pressing the police number 102, I lowered my voice, imitated Fyodor's boyish voice, and said in a standard British accent: "Hello, I want to call the police. At eight o'clock tomorrow night, there is an illegal organization in the XX bar on XX Road in Moscow." assembly."

"What's my name, you ask? My name is Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoyevsky. You don't have to thank me, it's right to be famous for doing good deeds."

The author has something to say:

When guessing fists——

Fyodor: I was fooled by her.

later--

Fyodor: Take the bamboo shoots!

————感谢在2020-05-3119:01:46~2020-06-0123:47:07期间为我投出霸王票或灌溉营养液的小天使哦~

感谢灌溉营养液的小天使：想养猫的鱼105瓶；取名真难45瓶；苦珂6瓶；露露露露5瓶；柠檬精(ovo)1瓶；

Thank you very much for your support, I will continue to work hard!