Fail Demon King

"Never try to solve that hideous riddle, which has always maintained its mystery with the utmost dignity. Death—death requires only respect."

(End of first volume)

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The author has something to say: Don't blame the cryptic writing of the jar...JJ has recently cracked down...T_T

Now that you have guessed it, the jar in this chapter is ready to send Billy away... [Don't slap your face]

Thank you for the mines chasing the wind╭(╯3╰)╮

I wish you all a happy reading~O(n_n)O

51【Fanwai】What I saw and heard on a stone wall

"I won't move."

—A million times, I want to tell the guys who sneak out of the dorms in the middle of the night to explore and poke me with their wands.There was no password, no spell that would turn me away and reveal to them the entrance to a secret passage or whatever was hidden.

Unfortunately, I can't move or speak.My heart is as hard as my body.I have stood here silently and quietly for 1000 years, seeing and hearing things.

I am a stone wall at Hogwarts.

I'm in a bad position.You know, the ideal environment for a wall would be dry, quiet, with minimal traffic.I envy those walls on the west side of the castle. There is occasionally a little moss in the crevices of their stones, but it's nothing, and the sun can shine on the higher places.Being in such a good place, I wouldn't be surprised if they could sleep for ten years with their eyes closed.The outer corners, the dark places that are difficult to reach because of the stair shenanigans are also quite good; even the wet underground tunnels are acceptable, at least they are not too noisy.

However, I was a wall in the school hospital.Any movement in the corridors bothers me, as does the sound in the medical room (we have double-sided walls, of course).Originally they covered the wall in the school hospital with a tapestry, but at some point there was a small hole in it, and now I can clearly see every sick student and the hospital bed with white curtains That's it--unfortunately, I've been woken up on average every three months since then, and haven't had a good night's sleep.

It's probably the 40s, sorry, I don't remember exactly - don't count on my memory.After all you can't ask for too much from a stone.

All in all, everything I'm going to say next is just to divert the boring silent talk.

This day I woke up inexplicably.It took me a while to realize that the hallway was as quiet as the dead of night.It's nice not to have those reckless students rushing around. Those troublemakers have gone somewhere.I wanted to sleep for a while, but suddenly found a shadow cast on me.

I thought it was a female ghost, but soon I was sure that was impossible, ghosts have no shadows, even though her face was as pale as those dead souls.She was standing at the gate of the school hospital, her fingers twisted together in front of her.

It's nothing at all, as long as she doesn't interfere with my sleep, everything is fine.I was about to fall back into a month-long sleep when suddenly a sound of footsteps came from far and near, hurriedly sounding from the end of the corridor to this side.

The ghost-like girl turned her head eagerly: "You're here!" She said in a loud voice, "What's going on, Riddle? We were just talking, when he suddenly turned pale and covered his chest, his whole body convulsed. Scaring people, you—”

She stopped, which was not surprising, because the expression on the face of the man who was striding towards her was too terrifying.The man she called Riddle was a tall, thin boy with dark hair.If you trust my taste, I'll say he's handsome--I bet he'd be even better if his cheeks weren't twitching a little with a facial muscle spasm.Indeed, it was as if a fire had burned him dry inside Riddle, and his eyes were bloodshot.

I was suddenly less sleepy.

"You can't go in!" the girl said palely, "Madam Pomfrey is—"

"Get out of the way!" Riddle snapped, without stopping, toward the door.

If I had peeked into the infirmary through the little hole in the tapestry, I might have been able to see what was going on in the hospital hospital, but I didn't need to divert my attention now because the door was open.

Pomfrey stepped out.It was strange, she looked as if she was about to cry.

"This is...cruel Merlin," her lips trembled, looking back and forth between the brunette and Riddle, "no one would have thought that the third attack would be so...so sudden...Blake," she wiped. Wiping his eyes, he looked at the dark-haired girl and said, "Thank you for sending him."

"What third time?" the girl named Blake asked anxiously. "Is Billy okay? What's wrong with him?"

She happened to ask my question, and I watched everything in front of me intently—Riddle stared at Pomfrey, as if he was going to burn two holes out of her with his scorching eyes.

Pomfrey walked over and hugged Blake, her choking and the tears in her eyes were already evident: "Oh, good girl..." She looked up at Riddle, and struggled to finish the last sentence, "He goes Gone, Riddle. His soul . . . departed."

It sounded like a euphemism for death, and I thought Riddle would soon be overwhelmed, since there seemed to be no doubt that the man who had just died (allow me to speculate) was very important to him.

However, to my surprise, even though Riddle was about to gnash his teeth, a little light burst out from those desperate black eyes that were lifeless just now.He pursed his lips tightly and walked around Pomfrey who was standing at the door, as if he could no longer bear to waste a little time, he rushed directly into the medical room.

Blake also wanted to follow, but Pomfrey stopped her in time: "Let Riddle go and see him alone..." She covered her mouth in disbelief, and then closed the door of the infirmary with her backhand.

For the first time, I felt how precious the little hole in the tapestry in the infirmary was, and it would be a pity not to make the most of it.My gaze (if a stone wall has eyes) peered through it to see what was going on inside the infirmary.

There is a person lying on the innermost hospital bed. Sorry, due to the angle, I can't see the person's face clearly except for the dark brown hair.I saw Riddle sprint towards the bed, he must have been flustered, because his black robe was wrapped around his legs, and he staggered uncontrollably for a few steps before he finally ran to the bed.

He drew his wand, his wrists were shaking, but his voice sounded low and calm.Seriously, I was overwhelmed by his restraint.

He touched the man on the bed with his wand, and said a quick spell that I couldn't understand.I think he's trying something, because for the next few moments his brow is drawn into an anxious knot, obviously waiting for something—

Wait for some false miracle to happen, I thought.

However, 2 minutes passed and nothing happened.

Riddle whispered the incantation again, so fast and so hard that he seemed to crush every syllable he uttered with his teeth.However, the person on the bed still didn't respond.

I can't help but feel a little bit of sympathy for him, and at the same time I can't help but think that what he's doing is meaningless-of course dead people don't react, do they?

As Riddle gritted his teeth for the third incantation, I saw a horrible flush of red running from his neck to behind his ears, but it quickly faded, and now the handsome student's face was All blood was gone.

Riddle seemed to have finally given up completely. He sat down slowly on the chair beside the hospital bed, his back tensed and straightened.He still stared at the student on the bed intently. To be honest, it's hard for me to judge which of the two has the paler face.

After a while he said deadpan, "Get up, Billy Stubbs, we've got some business to settle."

Giving orders to a dead man is undoubtedly a bit ridiculous, and unless the disembodied transparent milky white ghost is floating around, all Riddle's words will be in vain—or even to me.

However, the stubborn man said a second sentence: "Just now I used the wand... I want to try to guide the soul that may still be in your body. I'm sorry if I hurt you, I just... I'm just too In a hurry."

His voice was softer this time, his tone even softer, as if that Billy Stubbs was really alive and really in pain.

Riddle sat upright in front of the hospital bed, the branches outside the window were blown by the wind, making a rustling sound.I don’t know why, but this scene suddenly felt familiar to me—I must have seen this scene in the school hospital in my half dream and half awake: a boy with dark chestnut hair was lying on the bed in a coma, and another person was sitting in front of the hospital bed with a pale face. , like a stiff marble statue.

There was a long, oppressive silence.

I was a little worried that Riddle would suffocate in the silence.

Yet he did not suffocate.I saw Riddle lean forward, then bow his head toward the man lying on the bed, as softly as fearing waking from a sweet dream.But after he straightened up, his originally tense shoulders finally began to tremble violently.He lowered his head, tugging at his hair with his knuckles turning white, and it was like this for a while.

I thought he was crying.

—But I was wrong.

Riddle raised his head, his eye sockets were dry, and although there was a kind of flame-like red glowing there, there were no tears in his eyes.He smoothed the hair of the person on the bed and said softly, "Happy birthday."

This low voice was like a spell, those syllables hit my body, and then bounced off, and finally scattered in the dead and silent school hospital, leaving no trace.

Riddle's lips twisted, and without further hesitation, he stood up abruptly, and walked towards the door without looking back, with the same strides he had made when he walked in.He never looked again at Stubbs lying on the bed, as if the man's death had nothing to do with him—

Yet the expression on his face was no better than that of a man under Cruciatus.In fact, it is quite uncomfortable to see such unimaginable pain on a person's face, and even a stone can't bear it.

He walked out.

Pomfrey was still holding Black's shoulders, and I could see that her face was already stained with tears.And the black-haired female student seemed to be completely stunned, her beautiful face was empty, as if she didn't even know that her tears had slid down her chin.

Of course, my eyes followed Riddle with interest, and I saw him standing upright and alone, not even leaning against the wall.This must be a very proud man, I guess - I soon noticed that he had been biting his lower lip, which was now blood red.

Blake said hoarsely: "...Billy really—"

"His body is dead." Riddle interrupted her arrogantly and stubbornly, his pupils stood up ferociously, thin and long like snakes, "but his soul—just left."

He said this in a low voice, and I haven't heard him speak since.

Until a burst of chaotic footsteps sounded from the corridor again, and the faculty and staff rushed over, Riddle still remained silent.From beginning to end, he did not shed a single tear.

I think it is almost cruel for a person to restrain himself to such an extent.

So, sorry, I only want to recall this matter here.The hustle and bustle in the hospital hospital had nothing to do with me—and it didn't seem to have anything to do with Riddle.

So I tried to ignore the little hole in the tapestry and the noise in the treatment room, and finally fell into a restless sleep.

52 [Fanwai] A teacher position

It was a midsummer night, fresh from the rain, and there was a peculiar smell of grass and earth in the air.

A tall and thin man walked in the quiet castle corridor, his beard and hair were long, hanging down to his waist, and his blue eyes were extraordinarily bright behind half-moon lenses.The torches on both sides of the stone wall burned tirelessly, and he stopped suddenly at a dark corner.

After a while he said calmly, "Come out, Horace. Good evening."

With a low curse, a pier-like figure appeared.The chunky man seemed to have rolled out of a sidewalk in the corridor, Slughorn touched the top of his head, which was already half bald, and asked in a rough voice unwillingly: "Damn, how did you find me? "

"I just sniffled," Dumbledore smiled slightly, "and smelled the aroma of baking gingerbread. I know you've been particularly fond of this delicious little dessert lately."

As he spoke, Slughorn shook his walrus-like mustache and stared suspiciously at Dumbledore's crooked, twisted, round eyes. on the second long nose.

"Okay, okay," said the chubby potions master after a while, still not quite convinced, but there was nothing he could do.He paused, and tentatively said with some hesitation, "—so, Albus, you and Dippet have just had a handover? Uh, in two days you...do you need me to help you clean up the office?" Move the things in the house to the eighth floor?"

Dumbledore seemed to find it a little funny: "No, it's not necessary now. Thank you for your kindness, old colleague. I implore Armando not to leave too hastily, he will stay at Hogwarts until mid-August , and then go on a retirement trip. We just talked about something, and then I gave him a little idea of ​​where to travel - oh, yes, you should try the little lemon cookies in his office, taste Really good."

Slughorn looked at Dumbledore hesitantly, as if eagerly hoping that he wouldn't pause and continue—not just about the damn cookie, of course.However, Dumbledore does not seem to have this will.

Reluctantly, Slughorn said angrily: "Come on, Dumbledore, forget about the damn lemon cookies. You know exactly what I want to ask—"

"Of course," Dumbledore said calmly, "of course. If you want, we'd better go to my office and talk. This way, okay? The stairs I just passed have been having a temper tantrum for the past few days. "

"Please." Slughorn adjusted his vest, which was about to unbutton, and followed Dumbledore with short legs.

The students had returned home from the holidays, and the armor and portraits had already fallen asleep soundly. The corridor was so quiet that only the sound of their footsteps was heard.

After a while, Slughorn murmured reluctantly, "Damn Merlin, I forgot that your office is on the second floor, so you don't have to go up the stairs to get to my office... I miss my soft armchair."

Soon, the two wizards walked into the Transfiguration professor's office on the second floor, and they sank into two reasonably comfortable armchairs.The weird silverware on the desk whirled and puffed out puffs of smoke, and there were some funny little noises coming from nowhere.

Slughorn hesitated, and Dumbledore remained fairly composed.

After a while, the potions teacher who couldn't hold back finally spoke first. He touched his shiny bald head and asked mutteringly, "It is said that... that person wants to apply to come back to teach? If my information is correct, He seems very interested in the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"Your information is indeed correct, Horace." Dumbledore said calmly, he turned his eyes and stared at a rapidly spinning silver top for a while, "He made an application to Armando, and Armando Many have agreed."

Slughorn shook his beard in surprise: "But—oh Merlin, I really didn't expect...he has become more and more powerful and famous in the past few years. What are you doing back at Hogwarts? ? So, Albus, what do you say?"

"The timing of his self-recommended position is ingenious," Dumbledore said flatly. "Armento is about to leave, but we haven't handed over yet. Since Professor Mellors retired, you know, Horace, we have No Defense Against the Dark Arts professor lasted long. And you have to admit that the guy was really good—so Armando agreed."

Slughorn's mouth was half open, his eyes rounder, and after a moment he stammered, "But, but you... Dumbledore, of course you wouldn't..."

"I must fulfill the promise of the previous headteacher. I promised him the position, but did not say when. What we need is delay - and more observation."

The office was quiet for a while, only those funny voices rang out.

"I'm not so sure..." Slughorn waved his hand, and he sank pale into the armchair, looking rounder. "Can you believe it, Albus? I'm amazing at seeing people." Talent." At this point, he couldn't help showing a little conceited look, but soon became depressed, "You all think I'm a big spider, don't you? To recruit all kinds of excellent wizards - in their student days—and then let them be of use to me in the future. But I never did anything bad...but then I found out..." He shivered slightly, "I may have misread someone. Yes, Tom Riddle, I found out when he was in the seventh grade. That good student changed, and after he graduated, I found out that I... I was more and more afraid of him."

"Yes, the thread that bound him broke, I broke it myself." Slughorn paused for a moment, shook his head, and gave a short laugh, "Because I think that man is getting more and more More and more like a spider, and myself... more and more like an insect."

After he finished speaking, he began to lick his lips anxiously. Dumbledore waved his wand, and a glass of water immediately appeared on the table.

"Drink it." Dumbledore said, and he nodded, "Of course I believe you. Since the seventh grade, the group around him has become larger and closer, and many vicious incidents have occurred at the same time, but none of us Way to ascertain that it had something to do with the Head Boys at the time. I'm honestly not too surprised by the change..." He tapped his index finger on the table and said suddenly, "Do you remember someone, Horace? Yours too The favorite student's name is—Billy Stubbs."

"Of course I remember." After drinking a glass of water, Slughorn's complexion improved a lot, but he stared at the glass and frowned slightly, as if disliking that it was not a glass of sweet brew, "Poor boy... he is very good at potions." Talented, I dare say he will become a great weapon." He said melancholy, and muttered with some annoyance, "However, I didn't know that Dippet had been hiding his physical condition until his unexpected death... as a potions teacher , am I really that untrustworthy?"

"That's the problem." Dumbledore did not respond to Slughorn's murmured complaints, but continued on his own, "I dare say that Billy Stubbs is as good as Tom Riddle." He was a very important person. He was his best friend—and only friend, and he had an incalculable influence on him. I can tell you nothing about Billy, and I had great hopes for Billy, and I believed he could bring Gon A descendant of the Te family becomes something close to a good man, but only if," he sighed indistinctly, "—he has to live."

"I understand what you mean, but I have reservations about your opinion." The Potions teacher shook his beard and smacked his lips regretfully. "The death of that child is undoubtedly a great misfortune, but no one can explain it." ..." His eyes drifted to the door, as if caught in a memory, "At least at that time Riddle was still very calm. The only abnormal behavior that impressed me was—tsk, he didn't shed tears, but bit his lips hard Bloody and bloody, and refused Pomfrey's treatment, until the beginning of the seventh grade, those wounds were still faintly visible..."

Dumbledore didn't speak, he seemed lost in thought too.

After a while, the Potions teacher stood up from his chair: "Well, it's getting late." He waved his wand, and the empty glass that was placed on the table disappeared, "I'm leaving, Albus. When you do get him back to teach, give him the head of Slytherin too."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"Well, you know I don't like—" Slughorn thought for a moment, "I don't like to upstage people. By the way," he nodded approvingly, rubbing his big belly, "that's what it means. "

"I'll take you out."

"No, just busy with your work." The ball-like potion classroom walked towards the door, and he smiled self-deprecatingly, "Maybe there will be trouble soon, I hope you can delay it for a long time. Speaking of which, That new name for our old student is pretty ugly, isn't it?"

"That's not a new name, Horace, as far as I know he called himself that when he was a student," Dumbledore said softly, and the office door opened for Glashorn, "—Voldemort."

※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※

This is a well-decorated room.

Thick dark green velvet curtains hung down to the floor, and huge lamps hung from the high ceiling, with candles burning brightly and seemingly forever.The carved vines that protrude from the walls are coiled with little snakes spewing letters, and those emerald eyes make them look alive.

A man in a black robe sat on a silver embroidered sofa with a green background, and the "Daily Prophet" blocked his entire face.Standing ten feet in front of him on the right was a wizard with low brows, uneasily stroking the wand in his hand, and looking in fear at a big snake coiled not far away.

"I wish you all the best, Stella." An icy voice came from behind the newspaper, "The Ministry of Magic has been getting more and more unsightly lately—spot checks for dangerous objects?" A page later, "Your work at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement just keeps getting better and better."

Stella visibly shuddered as the giant snake hissed and raised its neck towards him.He obviously became panicked: "This is my mistake, master, for this I am willing to—"

"That's enough," the cold voice was as numb as metal colliding, the black-robed man finally put down the newspaper, and he said lightly, "I didn't come to ask you to apologize, Stella." An extremely handsome black-haired man, but his complexion was as pale as a vampire living in the dark, and his pair of black eyes shone with a merciless light, "—because I don't have the patience to listen to your apology."

A stream of cold sweat flowed down Stella's side face, his lips were pursed, but he couldn't speak.

"Okay," the dark-haired man suddenly sneered, "There's no need to be so scared, is there?" He picked up the newspaper again and said coldly, "You know what I want, two They uncovered the seven Azkaban murders ten years ago a month ago, and your efficiency and the way you divert attention are so disappointing."

The giant snake was still hissing and spitting out the letter, and Stella's face was so defeated that she was about to faint.

"Quiet, Nagini." The black-robed man said casually, and he patted the big snake's head and neck casually, "Come on, let's stop here today." He twisted the corners of his mouth and gave Stella a malicious look , "I believe you don't need me to teach you how to do things step by step, do you?"

"...Of course—Master," Stella took a breath and bowed quickly, "Of course..."

"Excellent." The man waved his pale and slender hand, "It's getting late, let's go back."

After Stella exited the room respectfully, the man in black sneered mockingly: "Half-hearted guy."

Aggrieved, Nagini swam up to him and placed her huge head on his lap, and he caressed her cold scales absently until the door opened again.

"—what's the matter? You're scaring Stella to death." A man came in.This is quite a handsome young man, tall, with extremely long dark chestnut hair that hangs smoothly to his waist, "——hey!" He raised his hand in some annoyance, and a fluffy owl flew up chirping, "It's been pecking at me for a day! It's a weird owl. It hasn't grown up. It's been a few years. It's like it's not cooked well."

The man in the black robe didn't speak, but Nagini seemed very excited. She raised her body high and started chasing the little owl.

"I have already sent Lucius' birthday present to Malfoy Manor," the long-haired young man continued, "Abraxas wrote back to express his sincere thanks."

The black-robed man hummed lightly.

"I don't understand why on earth you're applying for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," the young man said to himself. "Is there any need, Tom?" He said casually, "We've already— —”

A white light flew over his face, and blood stains immediately appeared on his cheeks!

"I've been too kind to you recently, Benjamin." As if nothing had happened, the black-robed man stood up, turned his back to the handsome young man, and faced the fireplace with his hands behind his back, "You know how your own memory and body came about , then, you should also know what you can call me."

"Yes... I know." After being stunned for a while, Benjamin bowed obediently, but he blinked his eyes complicatedly, "Please forgive my presumptuousness, master."

"Get out." The black-robed man waved his hand coldly, "Don't do it again."

The tall man stood there coldly, and soon he was alone in the room.He watched Nagini and Victor frolicking for a while, a deep night in the gap between the dark green curtains.He pressed his backhand on the fireplace, and with a "click", a hidden compartment popped up, containing an old iron box.

He carefully opened it—it was stuffed full of trivial trinkets: communication badges, double-sided mirrors, brand new wool socks, worn quills, a small silver apple...and a thin book black cover diary.

He rubbed those things for a while, then suddenly pushed them back into the dark compartment, turned around as if he didn't want to see them again, and took two steps away from the fireplace.

11 years - he should have burned them long ago.

He took two steps irritably.The answer to the application for the Hogwarts teaching position has not yet come, and of course, that shrewd Dumbledore officially took over as headmaster today - it was published in today's "Daily Prophet" - things are probably going to be difficult, but It's not a problem...

Some memories of his youth suddenly flooded into his mind uncontrollably—in the school hospital full of white, an unforgettable voice spoke to him:

"...I think you can try to replace Professor Melles, he gives me very low marks every year..."

——How did he answer back then?That's right—

"...all he can teach is to make you fall less ugly after being hit by a jinx. But—you won't be studying at Hogwarts then either."

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth to drive out the memories that made his pupils red.That's right, he's been searching for a lost soul for 11 years. After 11 years of getting nothing, even Merlin seemed to laugh at his lack of hope.

The candles on the ceiling chandelier flickered for a while, as if suddenly blown by a strong wind!Two of the light sources that had been cursed with an inextinguishable spell suddenly dimmed.Nagini and Victor stopped clamoring about flapping their wings and straightening their necks, and they stared blankly at the tall, thin and hard man.

Dark-haired Tom Riddle stood poker-faced by the window.

No one knew what the most fearsome and proud Dark Lord in the world was thinking, his face was so pale, and his black eyes seemed even deeper in the dark night.

53 A Thrilling Newspaper

Debner never gets old.

He has worked diligently in the Scott family for at least 50 years, but no one can remember exactly when the young masters and ladies in the family developed the habit of calling their old Debner's name when they encountered problems. up.All they know is that the down in De Bernard's ears is still white, his slender fingers are still strong; and that the white pillowcase he wears, with his family crest on it, has never been spotless for decades.

DeBerner is a paragon of fighting time.Some old objects just disappear when they are in a bad mood, and the old clock always strikes a few times for no reason in its spare time, shocking its own ruby ​​core and emerald hands-but Debner never had trouble .There is no one more reliable than him in this family (except for the talking rock on the manor, which was rooted hundreds of years ago and has not moved an inch since then).

On the morning of this day, DeBerner went down the stairs and told the Sko family who were dining: After the magical accident the day before yesterday, Master Owen finally woke up this morning.

"Maybe it's not sober." The house elf paused, then bowed, and said respectfully, "Master Owen seems to have forgotten everything about the past 15 years, master."

……

When Owen Scot woke up, he felt like he had a splitting headache.He stared at the ceiling and reacted for a long time, only to realize that he was very familiar with this room - this is a room in the Sko Manor, he often came in to explore when he was young - the one that had no records after the 60s, and The room of his eponymous uncle.

—But how is this possible?Also, who was that house-elf that just came in?He remembered that since the 90s of last century, there had been no such hard-working magical creatures in their family.

Owen rubbed the back of his head and sat up, looking at everything that was both familiar and unfamiliar - in his vague memory, he was catching up with his graduation thesis on the history of magic in the seventh grade next semester, and then walked into the Room of Requirement... What happened next? What's going on?Did he find any secret information about that demon king?

Something seemed to have knocked him out, unfortunately he couldn't quite remember.But why was he not sent to the school hospital but sent home, not even in his own room?The house was not set up right either, his cousin Ivan's favorite noisy cuckoo clock, always abusive, was gone, and in its place was a beautifully carved wooden sculpture staring at Owen angrily:" Hey! Next time, don't cast any spells, kid! You almost blew up those precious family ornaments on the second floor..."

— something is very wrong.Owen was puzzled, he had to find someone to ask.

Owen rubbed his temples and jumped to the ground, ignoring the glaring wooden sculpture, and walked barefoot to the door.Just as he was about to open the door and go out, he was caught by a copy of the "Daily Prophet" on the fireplace: the half-covered front page revealed a corner of a portrait photo, and the words "Won the Order of Merlin, First Class" were faintly visible.

Owen took down the newspaper and casually opened it.

The portrait on the front page was fully displayed in front of his eyes——

It was a man with slightly curly black hair, his eyes were downcast, and his feather-like eyelashes cast a circle of shadows on the lower eye sockets.Suddenly, he raised his head and gave Owen a haughty look, his eyes so cold and indifferent.

——those black eyes made Owen's heart skip a beat!Involuntarily, he caressed the photo with trembling fingers, but the black