Standing in front of the window, with his back to the city and its delicate body, Glaser looked north and saw the past.

In the distance to his left, the undeveloped part, at each edge of the plain of Ossis, there was a crack beside the enchanted creek, filling the valley below with mist and wonder.

To the east and west of Grazelle's vision, squarely built on the grass are the two castles of the Academy, the magical Fairy Tale Palace and the Grey Tower of Witchcraft.

Squinting at each other, thinking about past wars.

In the two castles, there is a huge Witchcraft Tower and a teaching hospital.

The three schools stand tall on a narrow lot along the line.

Behind them, Glaser could see the top of a towering tree and a small roof of a lower alchemical building.

As he looked at the building, he saw no modern academy and its staff.

He saw the elderly magician, coming out with his staff and bags.

Wizards in red robes surrounded half of the building, and according to their orders, the girders were hoisted to the position of the rehoist.

The wizard dressed in black walked over, their bags containing a lot of unnamed things.

As a result, it was easy for him to believe that the Academy needed a new center for witchcraft.

Give the mechanics of heaven a place. Leave behind the trap of the banshee in the forest.

Re-gilding the pentaprism and digging a moat around the magic building, he believed in these things so much that his desire for the perfect house would be enchanted by the alumni, the councillors.

When it gets dark, the windows become mirrors. Glassel examined and groomed himself to make sure his nose was still straight, his eyes were as gray as they were, and that he wanted to be a successful administrator in his early forties, as he had in his portrait.

Whoever enters his office, he can secretly spy on them and know their names before he turns around.

Even in June, it was dark enough at eight o'clock in the evening, but he could still see the vice principal in charge of finance walking in and closing the door.

The Vice Chancellor for Finance was a stocky man with a red face, white hair, and a very strong hooked nose.

His image is more solid than that of Grazelle.

"Are you ready?" asked Glassell.

"No, alas, I'm ready, it's you who aren't. Before the meeting, the head of the Department of Magic wanted to see you!" "Yes," Glacel said discouragedly, "are you asking him to speak to the directors?"

"The only way I can keep him out of the board is for him to talk to you. The Vice Chancellor for Finance said.

Glacel gathered his gaze again and looked towards the small courtyard outside the magic building.

"The more I see him, the more I don't want to give him a building, you know that. She said.

"Bill, don't get excited about me. You have to get all the debates done before you meet with the directors. The directors must be able to say that you gave them the whole game. I can't get the head of the magic department to go around and tell people that you've never stopped saying anything good for the building, but you still have the directors convinced. ”

Glaser stood up in front of the window again, his eyes looking out.

In the distance to his left, the undeveloped part, at each edge of the plain of Ossis, there was a crack beside the enchanted creek, filling the valley below with mist and wonder.

To the east and west of Grazelle's vision, squarely built on the grass are the two castles of the Academy, the magical Fairy Tale Palace and the Grey Tower of Witchcraft.

Squinting at each other, thinking about past wars.

In the two castles, there is a huge Witchcraft Tower and a teaching hospital.

The three schools stand tall on a narrow lot along the line.

Behind them, Glaser could see the top of a towering tree and a small roof of a lower alchemical building.

As he looked at the building, he saw no modern academy and its staff.

He saw the elderly magician, coming out with his staff and bags.

Wizards in red robes surrounded half of the building, and according to their orders, the girders were hoisted to the position of the rehoist.

The wizard dressed in black walked over, their bags containing a lot of unnamed things.

As a result, it was easy for him to believe that the Academy needed a new center for witchcraft.

Give the mechanics of heaven a place. Leave behind the trap of the banshee in the forest.

Re-gilding the pentaprism and digging a moat around the magic building, he believed in these things so much that his desire for the perfect house would be enchanted by the alumni, the councillors.

When it gets dark, the windows become mirrors. Glassel examined and groomed himself to make sure his nose was still straight, his eyes were as gray as they were, and that he wanted to be a successful administrator in his early forties, as he had in his portrait.

"yes, it's the donor I'm trying to convince," she said, "well, call her in, and solve the problem." ”

The head of the Department of Magic is not at all like the red-robed man Glassell imagined, talking to him is like being eaten by a long, slow-moving snake, swallowing you down your throat with the subtle movements of its mouth, so that your troubles are swallowed and digested.

But your feet are still dangling outside, and less than ten minutes later, Glacel had to convince the board that he could raise millions for this man's building project, but every word that the head of the Department of Magic imposed on it made Glacel's enthusiasm for the task diminished.

So, as he looked out the window, he thought how much he wished the head of the magic department would be quiet, walk away, or simply fall off the tower and die.

He was thinking, how he wanted to go home, to sit under the tree behind him, to drink beer, to read the evening newspaper, and he strengthened himself with these images, and when he finally went to the boardroom, he was covered with the beauty of an unfulfilled desire and a little entangled.

This is something that associates him with a sublime, noble vision.

The directors met in the custodial boardroom, and the directors themselves wore hazmat suits, which always amused Glaser to the amusement of these things.

No amount of protection can stop fascination, it draws strength from human desires, and after five hours of meetings, the directors have a lot of desires.

"We agree that the old magical building is gone," said the chairman of the board, "but even if the magicians built the building themselves, we can't afford to let the students afford to spend this amount of money on materials, and if we don't have a small initial donation that doesn't compare to the trees, even a challenging gift can give us a little money to spend at the beginning." ”

"A quiet campaign to raise money," Mr. Glacel said, "then, by the fall we can begin to move in general." ”

"So fast? Do you already have a specific donor in mind?"

"I always have," Glassell replied with a smile, a man who knew what he was doing, a man he could trust.

"Let's just say that by the end of the week, I can meet with a donor. ”

How straightforward!

Believe me, Glassell's steady gaze and his businessman-like suit are all saying this.

Glassell's job was to make magic look respectable.

And she did a good job, he looked young enough, and the directors were happy to feel much older than he was, and intended to give the lad a try.

Believe me, with his gesture, his patience, his eagerly quiet all saying so.

Believe me, so that I can go home and read the evening newspaper so that I can put the treasure in the hall.

Hang up my coat, take off my shoes, and untie my tie.

Pour some beer into a cold glass on the high legs, take a small sip, and feel the foam of the beer waft across your tongue......

"Ahh

"Don't be like a man who can enchant people," said Mrs. Laura, "young man, I've been studying spells, sugar or coffee, ever since you were a flash of emotion in your father's eyes?"

"Coffee, of course. "Glaser never came to Mrs. Laura's house before, and people called his home a dream home.

At least that's what everyone who had been invited to her house by her, and as she poured him tea, he took a quick look to see if any hallucinations were happening in his mind.

In Augles, the Laura family was the wealthiest, and the medicines produced by Laura's factory were sold in every drugstore, right next to the ordinary painkillers.

But this is a problematic factory.

Selling low-quality drugs is like selling narcotics or hallucinogenic drugs that harm people.

Glacel had expected his house to expose some taste food.

The room was dark red, but full of sunlight, and the colors and products on it looked a little old because of age, and the low glass window looked out onto the garden with peonies in full bloom.

There was a roaring flame burning in the stove next to them, and in the light the flames had lost their color, which set off the old Mrs. Laura perfectly.

Make her look at least twenty years older than her actual age, like a gentle, delicate, noble noble lady.

Her hair is pale, and her skin is soft, pale, as if powdered, which is fascinating.

Glacel couldn't help but wonder, what does this skin feel like to the touch?

Mrs. Laura's beauty can only be seen or touched?

"I really didn't think I could play any low-level tricks on you. ”

Glacel smiled flatteringly at Lady Laura.

"I know I'm a lot lower than you. He kept his head down, and the smile on his face was full of honesty.

He imagined his hair as two kinds of homage, and his big head as a little red face nodding his head incessantly.

He imagined his suit as an honest man who coveted women and at the same time liked to live in the wild, although rough, but very loyal, steady, and mature.

Mrs. Laura didn't even look at him.

She was silently staring at the contents of her cup.

As usual, it was uninteresting, and a strange smell seeped from inside.

"Maybe you think I don't know what you're going to do, but I do. ”

Mrs. Laura looked up, her beautiful eyes locked on Glassell's embarrassed face.

"Actually, it's not that I don't like what you said, complimenting my face, touting my beauty, proving how attractive I really am, but please tell me.

Why do you want to buy bricks and wood for those magicians who are the scum of society, those who have problems with their brains and can't even recognize their own humility, then what department head, I don't even want to know his name. ”

She took a gentle sip of the glass, her eyes sparkling.

Through the weapon of the Glassel teacup, the color of the room suddenly became heavier.

It's a seemingly peaceful place, but it's actually a mystery.

Here, anyone can easily lie, listen to the wind blowing around them, and watch the flames dancing next to them.

Glacel can even imagine the wonders of living here, with the autumn colors outside, the cold spring rain hitting the floor-to-ceiling windows, and one can't help but want to take it with you for the rest of your life, even if it's not a warm corner.

"Before you speak," said Mrs. Laura, "why would you be interested in those inferior magicians? I know you despise them, and you can't convince me that you like them and do these things for them willingly, can you?"

"I'd rather you tell me why you're asking such a question?"

Glacel took a sip of his tea.

Somewhat bitter.

It reminded him of when he first entered the academy.

At that time, he didn't understand anything, thinking that magic was everything in the world.

Knowing that he had seen the larger world, and that he had seen his compatriots who were called the elite of the human race, he realized that the magicians who he had previously regarded as gods were in fact nothing more than lackeys with more powerful powers.

They're nothing, except to pull up some weird-looking tricks.

"Do you want to give me anything?"

"You're right, my ex-husband's company needs a consultant, someone other than me, of course. ”

Mrs. Laura walked up to Glacel and raised his chin with one hand.

"I really didn't expect you to ask such a question. ”

Glassell's face turned a little rosy, "I never thought of buying medicine to achieve my goal. ”

This skill of lying was not innate, but learned in the academy, and Galacel felt that he was doing it beautifully, and his calm tone, without the slightest blink, only a gentle breath, and a facial expression that did not seem to be the slightest abnormal, could fool such a shrewd woman.

As long as the statements and eyes can be serious enough to be true, they can be more true and more convincing than the truth that the world generally agrees on.

As long as the person can master this technique, it is enough to make the person join any circle, so that any listener cannot refute it, but can only accept it silently.

"Only you know what's going on here. ”