Fail Demon King

—"

"It's none of your business." The voice that suppressed anger said bluntly, "Go in."

Owen shut up obediently.

The lights in the office are dim today.There are no red Christmas decorations, and the festive atmosphere here is very bleak-only mistletoe hanging from the ceiling and Victor who suddenly flew over wearing a small red hat.Not in a cage today, and seeing Owen at the same time, the little owl is so happy that he flies around the house like a fluffy bullet, and the mini Santa hat dangles on his head.

Owen looked around anxiously, trying to find something that would attract his attention.He tried his best to force himself to temporarily forget about the embarrassing incident that just happened on the fifth floor—so maybe he wouldn't be so nervous—as for what punishment he would get in the end, let's talk about it at that time.

It has to be said that this method is quite effective.Owen quickly forced himself to notice a pair of green knit gloves in the upper left corner of the large desk.Among the exquisite small clocks, quill pens, sheepskin scrolls and some unknown gold and precious things, they stand out extremely.Judging from the appearance, this does not fit the identity of the Dark Lord at all (Owen always felt that he must be used to wearing the simple but elegant black dragon leather gloves, and they must not be brand new).This pair of gloves is very old, the wool is all pilled, and the color is faded very mottled. The most special thing is: it has mittens.

This may seem like a bad Christmas present, but who gives a pair of old gloves as a present? ——Besides, Owen couldn't imagine Voldemort walking out of the office wearing gloves that even a second-year girl wouldn't bother to wear outside.In the eyes of the Daily Prophet, this must have been a catastrophe for the wizarding fashion world - the vane that set wizard fashion for them has collapsed.

"You've been staring at the gloves on my desk." A drawn-out deep voice came from behind Billy. "From what I understand, you like the style of it?"

In the dim light, the ghostly sound made Billy's hair stand on end.Before he could turn around, the man in the black robe passed him, calmly walked behind the desk and sat down.The room suddenly lit up, a fire was burning in the fireplace, and Nagini swam past Owen's feet without a sound, and picked up the corner rug that belonged to her.

The professor behind the desk spent all his time knocking on the armrest of the armchair with his knuckles. He seemed less angry than he was on the fifth floor and at the door of the office just now: "Answer my question, Mr. Scott."

Owen opened his mouth, and just about to speak, the professor added softly: "Don't lie."

Owen choked, and glanced at the gloves again, almost beginning to suspect that this might be one of the Dark Lord's own failed spell-weaving creations.He took two steps back and said tactfully and sincerely, "They're special, Professor."

Voldemort chuckled, took the glove and slowly stroked it. His fingers were long and round, but they were too pale.He glanced at Owen and said flatly: "That's a perfect answer, Scooter, flawless. Five points for Slytherin."

"..."

"sit."

A chair appeared out of nowhere next to Owen, at the other end of the desk.Owen looked at it uncertainly. He felt that things seemed to be developing in an unpredictable direction. What was terrible was that he couldn't see through the person who controlled the prospect at all.

Owen hesitated for a second, and the voice of the black-haired man behind the desk became serious again. He seemed to grit his teeth slightly, and made a hissing sound similar to snake language: "Don't make me say it a second time."

Quickly and neatly, Owen quickly sat down, but this time his obedience obviously did not satisfy the stern professor, Voldemort snorted coldly, knocked on the desk with his wand, and a drawer popped open.

Owen sat upright in his chair, feeling a stream of cold sweat running down his back.He moved a little nervously, tentatively trying to see what the Dark Lord was about to take out of the drawer—Merlin bless, I hope it's not some evil magical creature or a bottle of poison...

Of course not—it can only be said that the current Dark Lord still has professional ethics as a professor, Owen thinks too much.The dark-haired man simply pulled a wand from a drawer, and then he leaned back in his chair calmly, crossing his long legs and crossing his fingers in his lap.

The professor said casually: "I often think, maybe you are not so stupid."

Owen rubbed his nose and looked at the wand suspiciously. He couldn't figure out what he wanted to do at all, so he could only reply cautiously: "...Thank you, first——"

"—however," Voldemort said emphatically, with a derisive sneer, "you are always startled by stupid things. For example," he said slowly, leaning forward , "The accident on the train at the beginning of school, why did a levitating spell make your suitcase fall on the door of my box—"

"... sir," Owen swallowed dryly, "if you will allow me—"

"—For another example, your Boggart that impresses me."

"..."

"And—two weeks ago, when you were cleaning that classroom during lockdown," the dark lord's deep voice was deliberately drawn out at the words "that classroom," as if to remind Owen that he hadn't Forget everything about the fifth floor just now, "a tidying spell made the wastebasket fly up."

Owen raised his eyes abruptly, and looked at the man in front of him in disbelief, but he met a pair of deep black eyes.The Dark Lord was smiling enigmatically at him, and Owen quickly lowered his eyes in fear.His always keen sixth sense told him that something was about to happen, and he himself was doomed.

The Dark Lord seemed not to notice Owen's embarrassment at all, in fact he seemed to be enjoying Owen's embarrassment with considerable satisfaction: "From the above facts," he drawled, "we can draw a conclusion : The sticking point is your wand."

"..."

"Change another one." Voldemort chuckled, and suddenly stretched out his hand and pushed the wand on the table forward until it was in front of Owen. His black eyes were fixed on the terrified poor Man, "—use this."

Extremely abnormally, Victor became extremely quiet today. He stood obediently on the carved wooden frame, looking at Owen expectantly.Nagini was coiled on a cushion in the corner, his snake's eyes gleaming against the flames of the fireplace.

Owen finally started to be at a loss, the magic wand in front of him was so familiar that it made people panic!

"If I remember correctly—twelve and one-third inches long, rosewood, unicorn hair," smiled the hard-hearted man, though there was no smile in his eyes, "quite a good fit A fine wand for Transfiguration - take it."

Every time the man uttered an extra syllable, it was like throwing a blasting curse in Owen's mind!

Size, wood, unicorn hair—this is Owen's own wand!But—how is this possible? !

Owen raised his eyes with a distorted expression, gritted his teeth and squeezed out the words: "...For Merlin's sake, professor... Let's be honest, I really forgot a lot of things, because of that magical accident—if it's possible... ..."

"I know!" whispered the Dark Lord decisively, his pupils gradually narrowing and finally almost vertical, "Never mind, now I'll help you remember—let us see, by the way, whether you are in the Mirror of Erised What did you see in front of you—”

Owen suddenly realized that Voldemort had already drawn out his wand, and the tip of the wand was facing his face!However, before he even had time to react, the wand in front of him waved——

The office was like an illusory fog, quickly disappearing before his eyes.

The black figures and voices that had haunted Owen for months surrounded him in layers and finally drowned him out.Some insignificant things quickly passed by, like wild geese flying silently through a swamp full of reeds, but there were still some clear and colorful pictures flashing vividly in front of his eyes——

…the vision he saw in the Mirror of Erised—he was holding hands with the tall dark-haired man…William caught up with him in the hallway in 2017…a small and cramped house, an indifferent The dark-eyed boy is sitting in the corner...the dark cave...the Diagon Alley is full of sights, and the old-fashioned broom Thunder 260 is shining in the window...his back is covered with stinging green ointment, in a gorgeous There was a tall, stubborn, dark-haired kid in the room...

A Valentine's Day bed-share...Basilisk, Myrtle and Hagrid...the smiling proud Black girl...Triwizard warriors, a Christmas party and a kiss to remember—

Scenes of memories flooded in, turning over as clearly as the pages of a book!A voice in Owen's head yelled uncontrollably: —Enough!enough!

——He felt that he fell into the darkness suddenly, and his forehead bumped into something hard, which hurt so badly...

It's over.

The frantically flashing images disappeared.Yet Owen kept his eyes tightly shut, unwilling to open them—something dangerously and shamefully about to overflow there.He gritted his teeth tightly, feeling that the hazy orange fire in this room was shining through his eyelids, and a burst of dizziness was disgusting.

A cold voice sounded above his head: "—is it enough?"

Owen woke up with a start.The office reappeared, and those bright candles and the flames in the fireplace made people's eyes sore, and he suddenly found that he was pressed against a person's neck—a slight distance away, and Owen was let go by a pair of arms.As far as he could see, it was the familiar silver button that made his forehead ache.

Owen raised his head and found that Tom Riddle had walked to the chair at some point and was looking down at him.On that handsome and pale face was a smile that he was all too familiar with, with the corners of his lips twisted - the Dark Lord had often smiled like this since he was a boy, but his expression had never been so ferocious as at this moment: "Thinking of it, Is it—Billy Stubbs?"

67 A Long-lost Christmas Eve

—He remembered it all.

Thinking of everything he had been Billy Stubbs, Owen stared blankly at the face in front of him, and those deep, blood-red black eyes.

Tom Riddle stood straight in front of him.The full forehead, slightly curly black hair, the high nose bridge, and the mean but perfectly shaped lips are still the same - how many years have passed, the years have not left a trace on that face, only the deepness and arrogance are growing day by day .

Owen moved slowly, and some funny little voices rang out from his joints.The blood must have been completely coagulated in his body, otherwise he wouldn't react as sluggishly as if he had been force-fed a potion of slowing down.

At this moment, he suddenly had a very strange feeling-as if he was actually a ghost attached to a pair of old armor, just resurrected by some strange spell.

It was an extremely awkward silence.The two of them stared at each other less than three feet apart, without blinking, without moving or speaking.The only thing in the office was the crackling flame in the fireplace.

The first to speak was Victor.

In this extremely weird atmosphere, the little owl tilted its head, and the mini Christmas hat fell from his furry head, and landed on Nagini's forehead on the soft cushion with a "click".Nagini lifted her large, flat head and hissed softly at the little owl admonishingly.Victor understood, and immediately folded his wings and covered his head.

Yet the movement of the two of them broke the silence between their masters.

Owen's mind was entangled in a mess, he subconsciously raised his eyes to look at Nagini and Victor, but before he could see anything clearly, he heard Tom beside him gritted his teeth and said a few words The snake language seems to have told Nagini something.Immediately, Owen was grabbed by the arm and walked towards the room inside the office.

Owen was dragged in dazedly and staggeringly, and the door slammed shut behind him.But Tom didn't stop, and across the living room they went straight to the room on the left.

As soon as he stepped into the room, Owen was almost stunned.This is a room that is very similar to the Slytherin dormitory, the difference is that there is only a four-poster bed covered with dark green curtains in the center of the room, and instead of the sparkling lake water outside the round window, there is a starry night sky.

The person who was holding Owen's hand tightly finally let him go.Tom turned, his face was terribly pale, his handsome face was almost contorted, and there was a burning fire in his black eyes, which seemed to burn Owen dry.

"—You don't have anything to say to me?" He paused and hissed through his teeth.The deep voice was very soft, but it was obvious that some complex and strong emotions were about to erupt.

Owen raised his head slightly to look at him, his throat felt dry and sore like a knife file.He opened his mouth several times before he finally managed to say a word: "...Long time...no see."

As soon as the words came out, Owen was stunned.Tom snorted noncommittally, his eyes became deeper and deeper, and his voice became hoarse: "——Go on."

Owen couldn't say anything.How many words were stuck in his chest and throat, like a group of rebellious goblins preparing to break through all the spell defenses, rushing out with the smell of blood-but he couldn't say anything, he just felt powerless .He rubbed his nose with a wry smile, and repeated in a crumpled voice: "We...we haven't seen each other for a long time...Tom—uh!"

——The man finally lost his patience completely, Owen didn't even have time to finish his sentence, and a force knocked him against the door!What followed was a hug that almost strangled his ribs, and then, the lips that were suddenly pressed down blocked all his unspoken words and his stagnant, unsmooth breathing.

By goddamn Merlin - Owen thought helplessly - here we go again!

It seemed so long ago since the first post-Ylema ball kiss of a teenager - and it was.It wasn't until I really kissed Tom that all the memories shrouded in hazy mist really became clear and gradually returned to their original place...

The scorching breath, the rough crushing and gnawing, the hot lips that didn't match the person's usual cold posture, everything was so familiar, yet so different... Their teeth collided fiercely, and the roots of their teeth grew Numb, rapid panting intertwined, can't tell who it's coming from.

It must be an illusion, Owen felt that Tom's hands holding his shoulders and the back of his head were trembling slightly - he couldn't believe that this man could tremble like this - as if with irrepressible anger, sorrow and ecstasy, this The man who has always been aloof is obviously vacillating between desperately suppressing or violently bursting out those feelings that are on the verge of extremes, as if he is already half crazy.

Involuntarily, Owen hugged Tom's waist tightly, and rubbed the slightly curly soft hair soothingly with the other hand.

Tom seemed to be taken aback for a moment, and the next second, Owen responded with a more intense and crazy kiss.Owen felt his heart beating almost out of control, hitting his chest like a drum, and a fire was burning in his head, and all reason had been obliterated into dust.Everything is gone: the red and green Christmas decorations, the ceiling with mistletoe, the starry sky outside the small round window...

A heavy snow fell on the ground, but Owen could see nothing.Only the black-haired man in front of him is the reality within reach——

A silver round button was suddenly torn off at some point, and rolled all the way to the bottom of the huge four-poster bed.

This Christmas night, Owen didn't go back to the dormitory.Leaving aside whether he wanted to go back - the truth was, he couldn't go back at all.

The only thing he could console himself with was that at least the four-poster bed in the inner room of the Defense Against the Dark Arts office was as soft and warm as the one in the Slytherin dormitory, and - there was someone else with him all the time.

He lay on the bed drowsily, trying to resist those almost seamless kisses.The bumps and frictions in the body were not painless, but under those not-so-gentle caresses, these pains became insignificant.Owen couldn't help moaning from the occasional burst of pleasure mixed in with it, clutching the bedpost tightly with one hand.

The dark green drapery swayed, and it was hard to tell whether it was pain or something else, and Owen's forehead and back were dripping with sweat.When another series of kisses landed on his Adam's apple and chest, he finally couldn't help but gritted his teeth and said, "...that's enough...for the sake of - um!...for Merlin's sake..."

Yet the insatiable man kissed him unmoved.In the orange-green, throbbing firelight, Owen saw his thick eyelashes flutter slightly like the wings of a black elf.

Another heavy impact made Owen groan, and the person covering him pressed against his ear, and the hoarse whisper pierced into the deepest part of his soul: "... who are you?"

The only way for Owen to regain the dignity of a man is to hook Tom's neck hard, and kiss him back aggressively, gnashing his teeth.Satisfied to see that this action was not without effect on the man who was always on top, Tom's breathing stopped visibly and suddenly, but Owen's disadvantage seemed to have been established early on.He was pinned down there, unable to move - I don't remember who said that Slytherin was not good at hand-to-hand combat... This must be the biggest lie in the history of magic...

The dark lord's rare patience seemed to be only shown at this moment. He actually repeated what he said just now: "—Who are you?" Hoarse and fierce, the tone of the command was a bit like the threatening words in his childhood. Human posture, "Tell me who you are - tell the truth!"

"I remember... during one of my confinement days I... um... answered that question," Owen said intermittently, and he even mocked without fear, "Remember? Sir... I'm Owen Rocks Sco..."

He was answered with a threatening, hard bite on the lips.Owen rubbed Tom's hair vigorously, and he hugged the man gently—yes, he should have known that some people's sense of security has been pitifully lacking since childhood.As soon as he opened his mouth, Owen realized that his voice was hoarse: "...but at the same time... I am also Billy Stubbs."

"...you are real," this man who has made countless wizards fearful is murmuring unconsciously, his body is trembling, and so is his kiss, "you are real..."

"Of course I am." Owen gently rubbed his black hair, a few strands of which were sticking wetly to his pale marble forehead, "Now...you can rest assured?"

The snow is still falling, and there seems to be a melodious singing outside the window.This is not surprising, it must be the little fairies with shining wings in the bushes-it is Christmas Eve after all.

Owen couldn't describe what he was feeling—guilt, pity, or something—he couldn't tell.But somehow something must have gripped his heart so tightly that every beat of it caused a small but sharp pain: he couldn't imagine how Tom had spent all these years, those years in his heart. There is only a flash of white light in his memory, but it has already turned his beloved stubborn boy into the cold and proud man he is now... Now, he is finally back, but at the moment when he should feel the most satisfied, everything seems to be So unreal and uncertain—

"——Since you are real, then I guarantee that I am also real." A deep voice said above Owen's head, with a slight gasp, sounding far less cold than usual, but quite disapproving, "There is nothing wrong with that definite."

Owen stared at him in surprise.

"Come on," said the man in his usual sarcastic tone, "of course I can see what you're thinking. Really, when are you going to get rid of your craving for crazy thoughts--give you a brain that's barely enough Leave some space."

"Excuse me—when will you stop being so mean?" Owen turned his head, gritted his teeth and whispered into Tom's ear, "For Merlin's sake, today is Christmas."

They were close together back to back, and Tom suddenly turned and hugged Owen from behind.The tall man stretched lazily, his skin rubbed against each other, and both of them shuddered unconsciously.

"Merry Christmas," he whispered suddenly.

Exactly the same as when he was young, Owen touched his nose and responded to him: "Merry Christmas."

Hot breath was just around the pinna, and Owen heard Tom mutter something.He frowned a little in disbelief: "—Merlin, what did you say?"

no respond.

Of course, this is the Dark Lord, what else can you expect from him?Proud, reserved, forbearing, and extremely self-respecting and conceited - no one can tell what a Slytherin Tom Riddle is.

Owen used to resent Merlin's cruelty so much, but now, he sincerely thanked Merlin for his kindness.There are still countless questions and confusions in his mind, but he can't ask any more, because the man behind him is threateningly holding his waist tightly:

"Again, give your head some room - shut up now. Goodnight."

"..."

68 A Lame Lie

Early the next morning, when Owen woke up, there was no one around him.The bed was dry and warm and everything had been cleaned.He stared for a moment at the dark green draped ceiling of the four-poster bed - this was not a Slytherin dormitory.

Thanks to Merlin, then what happened last night was not a dream he had on Christmas Eve that made people blush and heartbeat.

Owen climbed out of the bed with bare feet. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he felt a throbbing pain in his waist, and his limbs were sore as if he had been crushed by a pair of giant feet of a giant.But these discomforts are not so unbearable.Coming out of the bathroom, he looked around, and found a folded, clean robe on the low table.Owen put it on indiscriminately, and strode towards the bedroom door, but when his hand touched the doorknob, he stopped suddenly.

The sky outside the circular window was white, and the snow hadn't stopped, and the window was covered with a layer of hazy mist that is unique to cold winter.

Owen took a deep breath, as if making up his mind, he opened the door and stepped out.

This is a fairly spacious living room.It is reasonable to believe that after the Dark Lord took up the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, someone probably cast an expanding spell on the room or made some changes to suit the character's wishes.All in all, the layout here does not use silver and green as the main color, but it is in line with the taste of a Slytherin.

Owen almost ran into a pile of packages that looked like a hill before taking two steps out of the door. They were piled up in the corner of the door, which seemed quite in the way.Owen walked around them, curling his lips—obviously, this was a Christmas present from the owner of this office—it was odd that they weren't piled up to the ceiling.

"Morning." A low and lazy voice said.Tom lolled over his newspaper behind a small dining table, looking particularly fresh in a gray dressing gown.Those sharp black eyes had already caught Owen who had walked out of the bedroom, but he acted as if he hadn't seen anything, and turned another page of the newspaper without raising his head, "Merry Christmas."

Owen touched his nose: "Morning."

Tom's impression of being a strict professor has not completely faded in his memory; besides, whoever you are, you can't be indifferent to a lover who seems to have grown up overnight.He looked at the man sitting on the chair with his legs crossed, and swallowed secretly, feeling that his heartbeat was in danger, but he couldn't help but want to run away.

As a last resort, in order to divert his attention, Owen looked up at the pile of presents that was two feet taller than him.Large and small parcels were stacked together, and ribbons of various colors were intertwined. He frowned suddenly, and suddenly remembered something: "Merlin, I think I should go back to the dormitory to have a look..."

"No." Tom said flatly, and he paused, "—if you want, you can ask the house-elf to bring your present here."

"Of course not for this reason." Owen gave Tom a hard look, but his own ears burned uncontrollably, "I just—" he coughed, and said in some embarrassment, "...I can't let Tom Everyone knows that I slept last night at...at..."

Tom still had the same casual look. He shook the newspaper, and a wizard on the front page frowned and helped his pointed hat: "You can rest assured," said Tom slowly, raising his head slightly. Glancing at Owen, "Your current roommate won't say anything."

For some reason, Owen felt that the words "your current roommate" seemed colder than ever in Tom's tone.After thinking for a while, he shrugged and, as always, compromised.

Owen walked to the other side of the dining table and sat down. While absently filling a plate with a few grilled sausages, he looked up from time to time at Tom who was opposite him.Great, he found that he was starting to get used to the man - as Tom, not as the Dark Lord or the strict professor or something.

It wasn't that hard to actually do it—come on, Tom would be as good as taking two gulps of Aging Potion, Owen thought.

In fact, on this cloudy and snowy morning, the appearance of Tom in his dressing gown was very similar to the one in Owen's memory: neither was he wearing the mask he had in front of outsiders, nor was he too aggressive and cold. Sitting there quietly and reading the newspaper, only from time to time, the corners of the mouth are contemptuously curled up, or those black eyes are narrowed, revealing a thoughtful look.The high nose bridge, thin lips, and perfectly lined jaw are all the same as what Owen can think of; as for those subtle expressions—such as the occasional slightly raised eyebrows and mockingly twisted corners of the lips, they all make him That handsome face immediately became alive...

Soon, Owen found that he couldn't look away.However, his eyes were glued to a person like a slug - Merlin, even if he was still kissing that person last night, it was definitely not polite behavior.He blinked vigilantly, and restrainedly picked up the milk glass in front of him.

However, he just took a sip when he heard Tom on the opposite side calmly say, "Don't be stupid, you've never been good at peeping, and covering up makes you feel guilty." A pair of deep black eyes appeared behind the newspaper, and there was a "crash", nearly 15 Within minutes, the newspaper was finally flipped for the first time, "Besides, I don't see the need for it—you can look at me openly. If you tell me, I can lower the newspaper for you."

—— Owen coughed violently after being choked by a sip of milk!He turned his head away in embarrassment, while breathing evenly in pain, he stumbled and said: "For Merlin's sake... what, when can you not be like this-cough cough cough... this is, this is your big An early Christmas present for me?"

Tom glanced at Owen and finally lowered the newspaper.He raised his eyebrows, looking playful: "Oh—" he said in a drawn out voice, "I thought we had already sent each other off last night. Otherwise, what do you owe me?"

"..."

"Come on," Tom sneered, folded up a stack of newspapers, and threw them aside.He leaned back in the chair, but the lazy look disappeared, "What are you trying to tell me?"

As soon as Owen took a small bite of the sausage, he felt that it was chewy. He put down the fork and looked at Tom blankly.He scratched his hair, remained silent for a while, and said a word abruptly: "I want to ask you about these years—" He paused, lowering his eyes dejectedly, "...Forget it."

Tom didn't speak.A silver egg cooker whirled before him, and he stared at it as if he had suddenly taken great interest in it.Just when Owen thought he would not answer, Tom blinked slowly, and the egg cooker stopped slowly.

"I'm doing fine," he whispered casually, "if that's what you want to ask—I'm doing fine."

"Oh," Owen stared blankly at Tom. It took a long time before he realized, and said hastily, "...Oh. Of course, I know—"

"If you think I can't live without you, you're very wrong." Tom said flatly, but he still didn't lift his dark eyes, and from Owen's angle he could only see the drooping, long Long eyelashes, "You must have seen that I have gained everything these years: power, status, glory, power-everything Slytherin taught me to deserve. It is a pity that you are not here, but that is all .What's more," he paused, and said the last sentence quickly, "what's more, you're back now. That's enough."

——If you think about it, you will know how much truth there is here, this performance is really different from that half-crazed man last night.But Owen had already expected it: it is absolutely impossible for this person to say a nice word, and you might as well expect Jack Frost 1 to show his tenderness and affection occasionally.

"There's no need to feel guilty or pity," snapped Tom suddenly.However, after a pause, his expression became softer, "You don't need it, and I don't need it. But, it's better not to do this kind of thing again—" He leaned forward, crossed his fingers, and put his little Putting his arms on the table, he said slowly, "I've been looking for you for so many years. To be fair, there are indeed some things between us that should be settled."

Tom's deep eyes made Owen touch his nose involuntarily. Indeed, there are some things that should be confessed.He gave a short laugh: "Do you still remember... our agreement?"

"I haven't forgotten."

"Okay." Owen pondered for a while, and finally made up his mind.He raised his eyes and met Tom's gaze, "—I have a secret, Tom, I know you have doubted me many times." He grinned and forced a smile, "You You must have seen the clues, of course, after all, you are so smart... There have been many times when I was thinking about how to speak, but—"

Tom interrupted him suddenly: "Who was that guy who chased you down the corridor and tapped you on the shoulder?"

Owen didn't react for a while, he looked at Tom with a little stunned: "...I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"Black hair, green eyes, smiling at you from behind," Tom waved impatiently, "—that I saw yesterday in those fragments of your brain."

Owen finally knew who Tom was talking about.Things involving the future are hard to explain, but now that he has decided to confess, he must have nothing to hide from Tom: "William—a friend of mine." He frowned, thinking hard about how to find out. The clue is like finding a thread in a mess of cotton thread: how should he recount that experience, and what should he say?