The Love of Roses in the Enchanted Series

This small town is located in the cultivated valley of England, surrounded by hills, away from the hustle and bustle of the city, full of tranquility and lazy atmosphere.The ancient atmosphere of history is a layer of mildew that cannot be shaken off, stubbornly attached to the stacked stone roofs, low walls, and brick mills in the township.

For hundreds of years, the town has maintained the same appearance, only the people have changed, Myron thought so.

In the summer afternoon, the weather was obviously fine, but suddenly it rained.The rain was not heavy, but Myron still took off his thin coat and put it on his head.He hated the humidity and the sticky feeling of rain on his upper body, so in order to avoid the rain, he hid under the eaves of a manor.

The manor built of light yellow lime stone has a warm tone, and the drizzle hits the gable wall, and also hits a large rose garden planted around the farmhouse. The raindrops hit the leaves, and the fragrance of flowers of various tones is overwhelming. Come on, Myron listened, smelled, and stayed.

—Rose, even if you change the name, it still smells the same.

He chuckled, remembering a quote from a dead playwright.

Thinking of last summer, I have been here too.Myron looked at the rose garden through the thin rain and fog, but found that the rose garden, which was messy and deserted at the time, had been transformed this year and became freehand; lavender, delphinium and various rose bushes were mixed, and the fragrance of flowers at different levels was scattered. Intense color texture.

I thought that this place has long been empty, so how can I get angry now?Last year, when he came with a glimmer of hope, there seemed to be someone in the manor for a moment, so he didn't dare to step into the garden.Unexpectedly, in just one year, Turi was full of vitality again.

The manor should have changed owners.Myron was in a better mood, thinking: it is always a good thing that someone can cherish roses.

The rain was heavier and he couldn't move, so he focused his attention on the garden landscaping again.

The rose garden is organized in an orderly manner, the hedges grow randomly, and different flower species are interspersed and matched. It seems that the owner is quite an experienced horticulturist, who has created a beautiful scenery with skillful hands; at the other end of the garden, there is an arch of branches, and pink climbing roses Growing along the arch, the strong decorative effect makes the door a beautiful decorative picture frame.

"Gem of the Dawn." Myron whispered the name of the rose above the arch. The fragrance of this variety is fresh and sweet, with double petals and pure color.He couldn't help thinking, who is the new owner of the manor?

As if to answer the doubts in his heart, the door of the manor suddenly opened, and a tall young man poked his head out.Neatly combed brown hair, brown eyes that are too deep to see thoughts, and a short mustache protruding slightly from the chin, make the straight face more profound and three-dimensional, which is different from the typical serious appearance of residents in this area.

When he saw Myron, the resolute lines of his face softened and he was amazed. "you……"

Myron looked up at him and commented on the other party within a second: he didn't like this person, he didn't hate him, and he didn't even bother to talk to him.

It took a while for the young man to put away his dazed expression, and started to talk about something: "Good day. The weather here is always like this, cloudy or sunny."

Myron nodded, "Good day."

"It's raining, why don't you come inside?" the young man asked.

Myron didn't want to go into the house, but the rain didn't stop, and the cold water soaked into his skin, as if it was going to consume him.The young man opened the door even more at this time, and the smell of tea and baked biscuits came to his face, attracting Myron's mind. He thought: The young man should be planning to enjoy afternoon tea.

The warm atmosphere belonging to "home" is a kind of temptation, tempting guests who have been drenched in the rain to sit down immediately and enjoy the warm fragrance.

Surrender rationally.Myron finally said, "It is impolite to enter without the owner's permission."

The young man backed away with a smile and said, "Please let me have the honor to invite guests from far away to come in to shelter from the rain and enjoy afternoon tea together."

"...Why did you know that I came from afar?" Myron frowned, subconsciously taking a small step back.

The young man folded his chest and tilted his head, explaining easily: "I moved back half a year ago, and I have run around in the neighborhood. I have never seen anyone with bluer eyes than you, let alone this hair color..."

Myron tilted his head and glanced at his hair. The silvery moonlight turned towards pearly white. "Is this hair color unusual?"

"It's rare, beautiful, and fascinating." As he spoke, the young man stretched out his hand and wanted to touch the silvery soft hair.Just like the moonlight flowing on the hair on the thin shoulders, the guest is decorated like a dark night god of a demon.

"Thank you." Myron turned his head and avoided the opponent's hand skillfully. Because of his outstanding appearance, he was prone to attract some unrespecting bees and butterflies, and he had already practiced the ability to protect himself.

The young man withdrew his hand naturally, but his eyes were still as deep as the sea, and some kind of emotional vortex was rippling inside.

◇

Following the young man, Myron walked into the living room that maintained the atmosphere of the last century. The walls were covered with old black and white photos. The rustic and rough-textured oak tables and chairs smelled of time. The floor, tapestries, and even gray-green paint The colorful windows are engraved with the traces of time.

The long-forgotten emotions are suddenly intertwined with the familiar smell. Many years ago, the summer afternoon in the memory has long faded, but at this moment it becomes a mottled net and climbs into my heart.He looked back at the young man, yes, things are different.

The young man hung up Myron's half-wet coat, invited him to sit down, and quickly presented another set of glasses.When pouring tea into a small white porcelain cup with broken flowers, the young man introduced himself mockingly.

"Owen Silver, a little-known little writer, is currently writing a column for the newspaper. I'm back in my hometown, and I'm looking for a novel subject."

"Myron Trenson." The silver-haired guest said his name, paused and asked again: "I remember...the people who lived here before were named Xavier...you..."

"You know." Owen smiled again: "The Silver family has lived here for generations. I also lived in this house when I was a child, and my father moved away when he went to work in London. I couldn't get used to living in the city, so I moved back to live."

Myron hung his eyes on the teacup and remained silent.It turned out to be a member of the Silver family, what a sinful fate.

"It's so quiet here that people often forget that time is still flowing, but it's also quite suitable for writing, isn't it?" Owen smiled: "The rose garden has been abandoned for too long, and someone should come back to take care of it."

"The roses are blooming more vigorously than usual. You have the talent of a gardener."

"I'm not boasting. The people in the Siwell family are very good at caring for roses. 100 years ago, my ancestors also introduced native rose varieties from Germany and hybridized them with wild species here. The flowers are as bright red as blood and have a strong and sweet fragrance... ..."

These words made Myron sink into the memories, and murmured: "It's like being in a mad love?"

"Hey, you know everything!" Owen was a little surprised. "This variety has a short flowering period and is difficult to cultivate. It only blooms around the summer solstice, so few people plant it. In the whole of England, only a few plants grow here..."

Of course Myron knew, he was here for it.

"It will be the summer solstice in a few days. If you want, please stay a few more days to appreciate the flowers' attitude of selflessness and enthusiasm." Owen paused, bent slightly, so that the two people's eyes can be parallel: "... as if Falling in love..."

As if implying something, Myron looked away and replied casually, "I am very willing."

Owen was very happy, and from the color of his eyebrows, he knew that he had a good impression of the guests.

Myron pretended not to notice this, took a sip of tea, fluttered his long eyelashes in surprise, and asked, "This tea..."

Owen lifted the lid of the teapot, soaking in a few bright red rose petals.

"Using scissors as a twister to capture the sweet fragrance of flowers, through the perfect ceremony of drinking tea, it becomes a sacrifice to the devil's heart..." With exaggerated gestures and passionate voice, Owen is like an actor interpreting the plot on the stage.

Myron smiled, took the lukewarm biscuit, and listened to the sound of the rain outside the window gradually slowing down.

"As expected of a literary worker, a pot of rose tea can also be said to be like a burnt offering offered by a witch to a demon."

Owen stared at his smiling face, a little dazed.

"What?" Myron asked.

Come back to your senses, take a deep breath, chew that kind of smile silently in your heart, and taste the sweetness that is more fragrant than roses.

"No, it's a kind of romance. Think of it this way, red roses are poisonous bait to lure vampires, because the taste is comparable to blood..." replied pretending to be serious.

"In what era, do people still believe in vampires?" Myron disagreed.

"Yes, it's in this isolated town." Owen frowned and lowered his voice deliberately: "In the past month, several tourists have disappeared here, and the body of one of them was found in the cemetery , the whole body was bleeding dry, and last week, the same situation happened in the nearby town, and the old people said that the vampires are back."

"Dry blood is not necessarily done by vampires. In this generation, perverted murderers may be lurking around at any time." Myron lowered his eyes and drank the tea in his cup.Scholarly Mendi Forum

"What you said is also reasonable. However, the old people in the neighborhood say that 70 years ago, vampires appeared in the town, and many people died at that time, even the mayor was no exception."

Myron was taken aback for a moment, then slowly put down the teacup, and asked, "What happened next?"

"The vampire was shot to death by my great-grandfather with a silver bullet. The body was supposed to be handed over to the priest, but it suddenly disappeared. I don't know if it's really dead." Shaking his head, Owen got up and took down a walnut photo frame on the wall. black and white photo. "Paul Silver, this is my great-grandfather."

Paul's picture?Myron's heart was shaken, and he pretended to ask casually, "Can you show me?"

"Please." Owen handed over the photo frame, and explained, "It was taken in [-]. Look, my great-grandmother is a great beauty, right? Someone said that a vampire fell in love with her, but fortunately she was rescued in time, or , I can’t stand here and talk to you.”

Myron nodded absently, staring at a man and a woman in an old gray photograph.

Owen's great-grandfather was tall and straight in a woolen suit, and his good-looking great-grandmother sat beside him. The two of them had their hair neatly combed and looked at the camera with sullen faces. You can imagine how much trouble it took to take a photo at that time.

The time in the photo is still, and so is Myron's own time. Looking at the two people in the photo, it has been a lifetime away.After a long time, he asked softly, "You don't look like your great-grandfather or your great-grandmother."

"I'm more like my mother. Even so, I'm much more handsome than my great-grandfather, don't you think?"

Myron glanced at him and thought to himself: How do you compare completely different looks?He thought for a while, and then replied, "You miss Paul too much, but...it's a miracle that this photo can be preserved to this day."

"You're too blunt, why don't you tell me a little lie to comfort me?"

"I've lived for so many years that I forgot the art of beating around the bush. If I offend you, I apologize."

Owen snorted, and asked, "You seem to be 20 years old at most, why do you speak like an old man?"

"I'm much older than you, and I'm not used to your way of thinking." Myron didn't want to entangle him in this kind of topic, and asked again: "Are there any photos? I, I'm very interested in old photos."

"I'm sorting out the things in the attic. There are a lot of photos, and piles of letters and diaries, all of which are preserved by my great-grandmother. I should be able to get a lot of novel topics." Owen said with infinite yearning.

Myron put down the photo, heard the sound of the rain stop, got up and said, "I should be leaving, thank you for your hospitality."

"Hey, are you leaving?" Owen asked with a look of regret, "Sit a little longer?"

"Another day." Whether they will come again, Myron doesn't know.

Owen helped to take off the hanging thin coat, opened the door for him, and cut a branch of roses in the rose garden before delivering them to the guests.

"The tea I drank just now was made with this 'Red Satan'." He asked in a low voice, "Do you know it has another name?"

Myron took it, he knew it, but shook his head.

"Love." When Owen said this, his voice was a little hoarse.

With no expression on his face, Myron's face was as pale and cold as his hair, and he asked, "Satan also has a heart of love?"

"Whether it's Satan or an angel, they will all feel admiration for the beauty that transcends the world, let alone a mortal like me?"

Hands up, this time, Owen brushed the silver-white hair smoothly, as if grabbing a handful of silk and slipping it over his fingers, it was cool, like water.A soft person's heart is as hard as gold and stone, difficult to break through.

Myron's expression was still calm, but pimples appeared on his body, an uncomfortable feeling that his body had been violated.

This person does everything possible to get closer to himself, why?Simply because of his extraordinary appearance?If that's the case, then it's a good solution.As long as there is no further contact, that's fine.

"Come back for tea tomorrow, I'll wait for you." Owen said again, with a firm attitude and no right to refuse.

Myron looked at Xinji's sky, "If it doesn't rain..."

"Of course you will come." Owen patted him on the shoulder: "Be careful of vampires on the road, a beauty like you is most likely to be poisoned by demons."

Myron turned around and walked a few steps, then turned around and gave a clear smile: "There are no vampires in this world, but there are a bunch of people who are afraid of vampires. It's really strange."

"Yes." Owen nodded and agreed, "It's weird."

◇

Every summer solstice, Myron would come to the villa by the forest to live for a while.The villa is a few kilometers away from the town, and it was the territory of the nobles in the old days. He inherited the forest and the villa from his uncle, and he also entrusted the nearby Old George's family to come and clean it regularly.

The most common activity for the descendants of the nobles who have nothing to do here is to hang out, wandering through the grasslands one after another, teasing the sheep with their heads down grazing, and occasionally crossing shoulders with the simple villagers on the road, nodding and saying hello to each other.

Most of the villagers are simple and simple, and they will take the initiative to greet guests from the city.One of the exceptions was Granny Carme. Every time she met Myron, she either spat or cursed, calling him a devil and telling him to go away.

Old George once encountered this scene and said that Granny Carme was a little strange, so he could just ignore it, so Myron didn't take it to heart.

Walking and walking, I saw the rose garden and the light yellow stone manor quietly leaning against the roadside, and came here again on a stroll.He hesitated. Although the owner of the house was kind and talkative, he was from the Siwell family. The trauma he had suffered in the past made him feel dangerous and wary of Owen.

He used to like the Siwell family, and they were easy to get along with, but Owen made him jealous. This person was gentle on the surface, but when he spoke, he intentionally or unintentionally revealed his obsession with himself, which made it difficult to resist. .

It would be safer to avoid him, Myron said to himself, but missed the ancient rose that only bloomed around the summer solstice.

I revisited the old place last year and this year, isn't it just because I want to come back to see if the flower named "Like Crazy Love" is still in style?Or, this is just a superficial reason, in fact, he still has no memory of the former people?

Thinking about it, Myron unknowingly bumped into the low stone wall outside Owen's house.

Unfortunately, Owen was standing at the door, talking with a priest.

He caught sight of Myron, with a joyful expression on his face, and shouted and waved in an exaggerated gesture.

"Hey, you're here!"

Myron wanted to avoid it but it was too late, so he nodded and went over, saying good day to those two people.

The priest shook hands with him warmly, and introduced himself as Father Lyndon Hawthorne, the priest of the church in the small town.He was in his thirties, about the same height as Owen, with blue-gray eyes and blond hair, and he was very friendly. I believe this gesture would attract many townspeople to go to the church and return to the embrace of God.

"Owen's friends? Have you ever met...the city people?" the priest asked, with a strange interest.

Owen rushed to introduce, "Myron came to the country house for vacation. We met yesterday. By the way, there is a good saying: when the clock strikes four in the afternoon, everything in the world stops for tea. Come on, it's tea time now."

The priest stepped in with a smile, but Myron stood motionless by the door.

"What?" Owen asked.

"...My family's tradition, if the master doesn't invite me, I can't enter without permission."

"Oh, there are so many rules in the city." The priest turned around and said.

"It's okay." Owen didn't think it was disobedient, and made a ninety-degree bow, and said solemnly: "I, Owen Silver, sincerely invite Mr. Trenson to enter the humble house."

The most difficult thing for Myron to deal with is people like Owen, who blushed slightly, turned his eyes away, and said, "Thank you."

Owen passed by the door, and the other party took advantage of the opportunity to put on Myron's shoulders, which was very natural, as if this kind of action had been done thousands of times.

"you……"

"What?" Owen smiled warmly.

Swallowing all the words of reproach, Myron slanted his shoulders, lightly removed the hand on the shoulder, and walked quickly inside, only to find some things piled up in the corner of the living room, with books and notes scattered about.It seems that the owner of the house should be squatting there before chatting with the priest at the door, sorting out the dusty papers.

"Those..." Myron asked, pointing to the corner.

"Yesterday, I said that there are many treasures in the attic. Today I cleared them up, and I can look up some information about the ancestors. Besides, aren't you interested in old photos?"

"Yes, yes." Myron replied, he had already forgotten what he said yesterday.

The three sat down, the boiling water on the stove had already been boiled, and there were freshly baked biscuits on the oak table covered with a checkered tablecloth. Owen poured water into the white-bottomed porcelain utensils, and the scent of tea mixed with the fragrance of roses came out. .

"Guess what kind of rose is in the teapot?" Owen quizzed the two guests.

The priest said: The scent of roses is almost the same, who can smell it?Myron moved his nose, and vivid images filled his mind.

In the rose garden, bright crimson roses bloomed on the low shrubs. The man in front of him reached out and cut a flower, and gave it to the woman who had just stepped into the garden. Then he turned his head and smiled, saying to himself Name the rose.

Unconsciously looking at the wall where the photos are nailed, from a dozen photos, I found the frame I saw yesterday. The men and women in it have long since faded from color to black and white. , only he who was rejected by God and Satan is still here.

"Lover's heart." He replied softly.

"Bingo!" Owen Lang laughed, and pushed the seven-inch snack plate in front of Myron: "You can have an extra biscuit."

The budding melancholy retracted, Myron frowned, why did he become the little boy who won the quiz?

◇

In the following time, the priest was quite curious about Myron, and asked some questions about where he came from, where he is currently living, and whether his family origin can be traced back to Elizabeth I, the last king of the Tudor dynasty?

"The ancestors of all people can be deduced to Adam and Eve, and then go back, Darwin will tell you that we all evolved from orangutans." Myron replied calmly, impatient with the priest's pursuit.

"Hehe, it's quite humorous." The priest said, "There are good and bad from the same source. Cain and Abel are the sons of Adam, but God saw the evil and good in their hearts. Cain who killed his brother was killed God punished him, although he could live forever, but he was cast aside, never saw the light of day, and became the first generation of vampires..."

"Ah, the priest is talking about the hottest topic of vampires recently." Owen took over the conversation: "Last week, a backpacker corpse was also found in Baide Town, the blood was all drained, and the newspapers suspected that vampires did it again. .Father, were you there at the time, did you find any suspicious people?"

"Baide Town has convenient transportation, and there are a lot of tourists. How do you identify them?" The priest turned to the quiet person beside him and asked, "Myron, do you think so?"

"Hmm." The latter responded lightly.

"You are a priest, you should have a way to identify demons?" Owen asked.

"Legends say that vampires are afraid of sunlight, crosses, garlic, and holy water. Therefore, garlic has been hung in every household recently. You should try it, Owen."

"I don't like garlic. Father, isn't there any other way to spot a vampire?"

"I heard that vampires can't directly enter the victim's home unless they are invited by the other party..." The priest glanced at Myron intentionally or unintentionally.

Owen also said to Myron, "Isn't it just like you? Yesterday, you also insisted on accepting my invitation to enter the house. Are you a vampire?"

"Have you been sucked?" Myron asked.

"no."

"You might as well throw me a cross, or ask the priest to splash me with holy water." Myron said coldly, "You can even go find a poplar stake and stab it in my heart to see if I will be like As in the legend, it was wiped out."

"Uh, don't be angry, I know you are asking for that based on good upbringing." Owen asked cautiously, "You won't just be angry like this, won't you come to drink tea in the future?"

Myron was expressionless and sipped quietly. The more he was like this, the more displeased he seemed.

At this moment, Owen saw something faintly exposed on his chest, and said as if to untangle: "You are wearing a cross yourself, of course you are not a vampire."

Myron lowered his head and saw half of the golden cross hanging from his neckline protruding from his neckline. He pushed the cross back inside without explaining anything, and turned to listen to the priest.

"...Last month, the corpse of the murdered tourist was next to the tomb of farmer Ted. Ted died only two months ago. I am worried because he always did evil in his lifetime and he has been excommunicated long ago. No. Blessed souls are prone to become vampires, as is often heard in vampire lore everywhere."

"So, aren't heretics all suspected of being vampires?" Myron snorted.

"Theoretically, everyone has the potential to become a vampire, especially excommunicators, suicides, violent deaths, wizards, etc. I mention Ted in particular because he didn't have a religious funeral and was more likely to become a vampire. Living corpse, come back to harass the living.”

"Now that you have the list of suspects, Father, you should have reported the case to the police and let them arrest the poor man in the grave and put him in jail."

"Hehe—" the priest laughed dryly, unable to answer for a moment.

At this time, Owen said with great yearning: "Oh, I really want to see vampires, like in the movie "Dracula's Nightmare", the tall man in the evening dress and black cape, or the short, thin and bald man in "Nosferado". The devil image? The protagonist in "Interview with the Vampire" is too beautiful, but looks like a target that vampires would covet."

"That's right, the missing people are all beautiful young people." The priest replied, "This vampire has a good taste in picking specific prey."

Owen was proud of this, and said to Myron: "So, don't take my warning on deaf ears, because you will never know what is approaching."

Myron smiled slightly. "Then what about you? Yesterday I invited strangers to my house for tea. If I were a vampire, you would be a mummy today."

Owen was speechless and stayed for a while before saying, "I can't help inviting you..."

Myron smiled. "You guys have too much imagination. I think the victim met a serial murderer, not a vampire. In this world, people are much scarier than demons."

Owen was a little disappointed: "Can't you be more romantic? Think about it, in the dark night, the devil in the form of a bat hovers above the ancient castle, looking for the beauty's snow-white neck..."

While he was talking, he was gesticulating, his eyes were blank, as if he had seen a vampire flying in the sky.

"I'm not a novelist, and the last thing I need is romance, or unrealistic fantasy." Myron replied with a shrug.

The priest watched the interaction between the two, and finally asked, "You really just met yesterday?"

"Yes." The two replied in unison.

"It's not like that." The priest shook his head.

"Because we hit it off right away." Owen concluded with a smile, and gave Myron a strange expression: "God's will is mysterious and mysterious. When the time is up, so is man."

The latter's hand holding the cup trembled.

What a coincidence.Years ago, that person said the same thing.But even if they promised each other to have a heart-to-heart relationship and treat each other like relatives and brothers, in the end, the silver bullets still mercilessly shot into their bodies that were afraid of metal.

Humans are indeed the most incomprehensible creatures.

For his own good, he will not come again tomorrow, and he must not have much involvement with the Sivir family.

The priest didn't notice that one of the people in the audience was in a strange mood, and said, "Nowadays, people's hearts tend to be evil, and bad things will be revived. It is imperative to return to the embrace of God. Owen, since you said that God's will is mysterious and mysterious, don't make excuses anymore. I am absent from the service, and I will bring Myron to the church tomorrow."

"I'm a heretic," Myron refused.

"You have a cross on your body..." the priest questioned.

"The cross is my mother's relic. I wear it purely as a memory of my loved ones. It has nothing to do with religion."

"So, this cross does not have the power to exorcise evil spirits. Then, I am more responsible to lead you to know the beauty of God. Only under the wings of God can we be free from the fear that vampires have imposed on us." Father explain.

"Vampire superstition is an outdated custom, and a religion with a long tradition must also learn to keep pace with the times." Myron said coldly, "Father, please allow me to keep my beliefs so as not to be polluted by pedantic teachings. "

The priest looked a little embarrassed, and turned to wink at Owen, implying that he would take people to church with him tomorrow, but Owen flickered over, humming and haha ​​coping.

After the priest left, Myron also got up to leave. Owen knew that he was still sullen and hurried to stay.

"It's still early, sit down for a while."

Myron pointed to the pile of papers in the corner of the room: "Do you still have something to deal with? I won't bother you."

"No hurry, no hurry, chatting with you is much more interesting." Owen remembered something, and said, "I found something good. It was the diary of my great-grandmother 70 years ago, which recorded the vampire incident at that time. Are you interested in joining me? Find the truth?"

"What!" Myron was surprised.

"My great-grandmother Natalie had the habit of keeping a diary. Although the handwriting was blurred and some of the contents were bitten off by insects... However, around the time of the vampire incident, she mentioned that strangers came here..."

"Oh?"

"You look ugly... are you uncomfortable?" Owen asked worriedly.

"No, I'd better go back first." Holding the edge of the table, Myron lowered his eyes, his thick eyelashes hiding the thoughts in his pupils.

"Why be brave?" Owen patted him on the shoulder, a little helpless: "I know you are wary of people, you can trust me more."

Myron raised his eyes, looked over Owen's shoulder, and landed on the black and white photo. "I trust you."

"You're lying." Owen smiled mischievously, "Fortunately, 'lying' is not included in the Seven Deadly Sins, and beauties have the right to lie."

"Novelists shouldn't waste their energy on being glib, but should spend their time piling up words and constructing plots."

"I'm not glib. When I meet the right person, every word is sincere."

Myron didn't want to say any more, so he opened the door silently and went out. Owen caught up with him, "I'll see you off!"

Myron patted his outstretched hand away, but was grasped by the other party instead, and the palm he held was hot and humid.

"I'll see you off," Owen reiterated.

Staring at his grasped hand, Myron asked, "...are you interested in men?"

"If you say yes, will you never come to see me again?"

"It doesn't matter if I come or not."

Owen let go of his heart and let go of his hands. "Then, you must come tomorrow, 'Like Crazy Love' will bloom."

Myron quickly disappeared outside the door.Inside the room, Owen's shoulders hung down.

"Oh, I'm really angry... Maybe the scent of flowers that are about to bloom can stop him for me." Looking back at the picture on the wall: "Paul, Natalie, you can help me a little more. .”

The two in the photo are silent.