The man outside the door was Gixier.

The female pastry chef was holding a bag of food and a newspaper in her arms, and when she saw Jason open the door, her face was already red from cold, and she immediately smiled.

"Morning, Jason."

"Your breakfast."

"And newspapers."

The female pastry chef handed Jason the food and newspaper as she spoke.

Jason took it, took off his coat directly, and draped it over the female pastry chef in a way that covered his head, and after fastening the button, the female pastry chef only showed a pair of eyes and less than half of her nose, which looked weird.

However, the female pastry chef did not refuse.

She looked at Jason who was close at hand, her face became more and more red, and she grabbed Jason's coat tightly, eager to cover her face.

Hey?

It doesn't seem to be Jason's coat.

The colors and styles are similar, but the materials are much better.

Immediately, the female pastry chef guessed something.

Anger and killing intent arose again in his heart.

A voice told her to kill the other party.

However, he was pressed down by the female pastry chef.

In this regard, she only thinks that jealousy is the norm.

Also, I don't have a good rest.

I should have waited for Jason here.

With this chagrin, the female pastry chef glared at Hannibal viciously, and the latter smiled in response, then turned around and took out a coat and draped it over Jason.

"It's cold, wear mine."

As he spoke, Hannibal smiled again at the female pastry chef.

The female pastry chef was directly angry.

Kill him!

Kill him!

The man who dared to rob me!

The voice in my heart roared again!

The female pastry chef was also infected by this boiling killing intent at first, but when she shouted 'my man' from the bottom of her heart, the female pastry chef blushed again, and the whole person stood there and began to sway.

"What's wrong?"

Jason asked, surprised.

"No, it's fine."

"Jason, where are you going?"

"Let's do it together."

The shy female pastry chef shook her head again and again, and she immediately changed the subject.

Jason thought for a moment, and finally, nodded.

There was no other meaning, just for the food in his hands before and now, and as a thanks, it was necessary for him to keep the female pastry chef safe.

Waving at Griffin in the far corner, Jason led the pastry chef onto the public carriage on the side of the road.

The food in his hand made him temporarily slow down the idea of patrolling the city on foot.

After all, eating in the wind is bad for your stomach.

As for breakfast, you've already eaten it?

Well, ate it.

But walking from the dining table to the door, it has been digested.

Syllable!

"Drive!"

The coachman flicked the reins, and the carriage started slowly.

Griffin watched the carriage go away, and he walked straight to the 'Hannibal Clinic', where Hannibal did not return to the room, but watched the carriage of Jason and the pastry chef depart.

Hannibal smiled politely at the sight of the approaching Griffin, but his footsteps did not move.

He wasn't used to anyone other than Jason entering his room.

Patients are the exception.

But also confined to the living room.

The Griffin in front of him is an acquaintance, but definitely not to the level of Jason.

After all, there is only one Jason.

And the guy in front of you?

There are countless of them on the streets.

"Can you talk?"

Griffin lowered his voice.

"7 blocks in 1 hour, more than 45 minutes, count as the second hour."

Hannibal said with a smile.

Griffin blinked, a little unresponsive.

"I mean let's talk."

Griffin emphasized.

"Yes, let's talk."

"7 blocks in 1 hour, more than 45 minutes, count as the second hour."

"I'm a psychiatrist, and that's the public price."

Hannibal smiled.

Griffin's breathing began to rapid, and he wanted to punch this smiling face, but thinking of what was in his heart, he finally held back, gritted his teeth, and said, "Okay, let's talk for 5 minutes first." ”

As he spoke, Griffin pushed Hannibal away and into the house.

But......

Didn't squeeze it open.

Hannibal's strong figure stood still, and instead Griffin staggered backwards from the collision.

In the face of Griffin's stunned and puzzled expression, Hannibal continued to smile.

"At least an hour."

The psychiatrist said.

"An hour?!"

"You profiteer!"

"I ...... Wait, an hour is an hour! ”

Griffin couldn't hold back any longer and yelled loudly, but when he saw Hannibal preparing to close the door, he immediately relented.

Hannibal reached out through the crack in the door.

"What do you mean?"

Griffin was stunned.

"Pay first."

Hannibal said.

"Don't you believe me and worry that I'm going to pay my bills?"

Griffin roared loudly, as if he had suffered great humiliation.

"Yes."

Hannibal nodded.

"You!"

Griffin wanted to say something, but Hannibal was ready to shut down again.

This forced Griffin to take the last money out of his sock and hand it to Hannibal.

Hannibal didn't answer, he frowned and got out of the way.

"Put your money in the water bowl at the door."

Hannibal said.

"It just came out of its sock, not through the plague!"

Griffin looked at the bowl of water on the cabinet next to the door, which still contained a few coins, and a decent memory, reminded him of the way the shops on Fishbone Street handled coins during the plague period: a bowl full of water was placed on the counter.

It was believed that this would be effective in driving out the plague.

Griffin didn't know if it was useful or not.

However, the number of people who died in his memory did not decrease much.

In the same way, the money in the bowl is often lost.

"A truth."

Hannibal said indifferently.

Griffin didn't argue anymore.

He threw the money in the bowl and, at Hannibal's beckoning, sat down in the chair in the hall.

Hannibal glanced at the clock hanging beside him, and after clearly noting the time, he said, "You can begin." ”

"Are you safe here?"

"I mean a more specific attack."

Griffin raised his right hand and slid his five fingers back and forth, as if he were gesturing an octopus.

"It's safer than most of New Ford."

Hannibal affirmed.

This is not a lie, but it is true.

His house has undergone a special transformation and is quite resistant to all kinds of attacks, including ...... 'Mystic Side'.

Call!

After Hannibal said this, Griffin let out a sigh.

He seemed to be completely relaxed at this moment.

The whole person collapsed in the recliner, and the obvious exhaustion appeared on his face.

"I feel like something is following me, he or she or it, I can't be sure what it is, anyway, this thing has been sucking at my memory."

"I feel like I've forgotten a lot of things."

"However, my memory is not biased."

"I still remember the jar I buried in my home on Fishbone Street when I was six years old."

"But I just can't remember, I forgot something."

"Do you know how I feel?"

Griffin said incoherently.

"There are many people who have symptoms like yours."

"Can you be specific?"

Hannibal has all the qualities of a good psychiatrist, he does not have any shame, let alone any disbelief, on the contrary, he records it in detail.

"To be specific?"

"Probably after meeting Jason and Giestier."

"Before, everything was normal."

"But since I've been a lobbyist, everything has gone out of order."

Griffin pondered for a moment, then replied.

Griffin then described the story in detail.

Hannibal recorded it in detail.

Neither of the two people who invested noticed that the door that should have been closed suddenly opened.

The female pastry chef appeared in the doorway.

She walked in slowly.

looked at the two of them expressionlessly.

The coldness in his eyes was as if he was looking at two corpses.

She raised her hand.

A thick black fog reappeared, filling the room.

The handwriting in Hannibal's notebook quickly faded into other records, but the handwriting was identical.

The memories of both of them also faded away, replaced by other memories.

The female pastry chef turned and left.

Squeak.

The door closed.

Hannibal and Griffin seemed to have woken up from their sleep.

"You said you've had memory loss lately?"

"I think it's anxiety and insomnia."

Hannibal, as usual, flipped through his handwriting, making a final summary.

"Really?"

"Probably those damn guys."

"'Ghost Squad' is such an annoying guy."

Griffin sat up, muttering to himself.

Then, Griffin walked straight out.

Hannibal sent Griffin to the door.

As he usually did with his patients, they waved goodbye.

It's just that when Hannibal closed the door and inadvertently swept the clock on the wall, the whole person was stunned.

Then, he turned and walked to the bowl of water on the cabinet in the hallway, looking at the coins inside.

Wrong!

Wrong!

Problematic!

Hannibal picked up the note again, carefully examining every word.

It was indeed he who wrote it.

Then, he flipped to the next page.

Pen marks through the paper appeared.

He just glanced at it and thought of something.

Without any hesitation, he slammed into the bathroom, looked at himself in the mirror, and said in a murmuring voice, "You didn't find anything!" You didn't find anything! You didn't find anything! ”

"When you snap your fingers, you forget what you just discovered."

"When Jason says it's delicious, you'll remember what you just discovered."

Syllable!

With a snap of his fingers, Hannibal, who was standing in front of the mirror, was stunned for a moment, and then returned to normal.

"I don't know if Jason will come back at noon."

"What should I prepare for lunch?"

Hannibal turned and walked out of the bathroom.

He didn't notice that behind him, in that mirror, as he turned, the figure of the female pastry chef flickered on it.

"Ahh

In the carriage, the female pastry chef suddenly let out a cry of pain.

"What's wrong?"

Jason, who was flipping through the newspaper, turned his head to look.

"I don't know, my head suddenly looked like a pinprick just now."

"It hurts."

"I guess I didn't rest, okay."

The female pastry chef smiled reluctantly.

Jason frowned, thinking about whether to arrange for the female pastry chef to rest, when the carriage, which had been moving at a constant speed, suddenly stopped.

Knock, knock!

"Is this Lord Jason, please?"

There was a knock on the carriage door, followed by a kind greeting.

Jason replied very dryly:

"It's not."