The "Adam's Intelligence" sold to me by the drone is quite cheap, and the reason for this is that there is very little information with high certainty, most of it is some unconfirmed gossip, and the most watery ones can almost compete with the "Top 10 Incredible High School Schools".

Besides, Adam has not even debuted as an intelligence agent for a year, and there is not much information to dig up.

If we talk about more credible information, it is limited to the fact that Adam should be a man no more than forty years old, and no one has ever seen his true face, and most of the people who cooperate with him are inexplicably planted for one reason or another.

At the same time, Adam also had a track record of instigating some of the local underground gangs to fight each other.

The drone told me that some of the underground gangs that were instigated by Adam in the first place have now publicly offered Adam's life in the Black Zone, and it is easy to get drawn into the conflict if they come into contact with Adam at this juncture.

At the time, I asked, "Then you asked me to ask Adam last time to buy information?" ”

"Compared to the local people who want to get rid of you quickly, the underground gang that Adam has provoked is at best a stinky fish and shrimp." Said the drone.

Suddenly, I remembered something again, and when I thought of it, I asked, "Anyway, did you sell the news that I was still alive?" ”

"Well, it's been sold. What's wrong? ”

"It's okay, I'm just asking." I can't help but feel like "lifting a stone and shooting myself in the foot".

Before, my brain was affected by forbidden knowledge, and my self-confidence was inexplicably inflated like dried white fungus that had been soaked all night, and not only did the stupid thing of directly arranging an untested blood sacrifice ceremony, but also took the initiative to allow drones to sell information that "I am still alive".

Now that I revisit it with a clear mind, I can't help but feel deeply ashamed.

It was once said that "death" is the best shield. Although my former enemies may not have believed that I was dead during this year, even if one of them did, it would be equivalent to saving me a little trouble.

But think about it, as long as my true identity has not been revealed, those enemies will only be obscene with the photos of me after my disguise if they want to kill me.

*

The topic is back on track.

At this time, Adam beckoned to me, and I walked into this deserted fast food restaurant and came to her side.

The group of underground gang members who offered a bounty for Adam's life probably couldn't imagine that the person who called himself "Adam" with such an extremely masculine nickname was actually a Caucasian woman.

She looks to be in her early twenties, with a fair and good-looking face, long blonde hair neatly coiled behind her head, wearing a white T-shirt printed with colorful letters, a brown jacket tied around her waist, and a pair of blue and white jeans deliberately made into a faded version.

And,It's completely different from the impression of no emotion when you contact on your mobile phone.,In reality, she has a kind and cheerful smile.,If you want to describe it.,It's like being in the library.,When you accidentally drop a book on the ground.,Will take the initiative to help pick up the book Pingshui meets people.。

There were three cups of milk tea in front of her, and for some reason, there were small, spherical and strange substances in the milk tea, which reminded me of the eyes of a fish, but seemed transparent.

Not only that, but there are a lot of them, densely packed.

Only the part attached to the wall of the plastic cup can be seen, and more is hidden in the milk tea liquid, which makes me unhappy to see.

When she saw me coming, she offered to hand me a glass.

"Was it a surprise?" She asked.

I took the milk tea, but instead of drinking it, I put it aside and responded, "I really didn't expect it." After saying that, I finally remembered: the precipitation in the milk tea should be sago dew.

I'm affected by the Gestalt Collapse again.

"Whether it's in the workplace, or in the black zone – especially the latter, women are easily despised by men." She explained.

"That's why you use the name 'Adam'?" I asked.

"The same goes for voice changers." She added.

But at this time, I reflexively suspected that the face in front of me may not be her true face.

The reason why I think this way is not because she showed any flaws, but because I myself came to meet Yirong.

To put it mildly, a hypocritical person in his heart looks at everyone hypocritical, so a person like me who acts under the guise of hypocrisy, whenever he sees a resident of a black zone, he must wonder if this person is disguised, and if he is using a mobile phone to communicate, he must wonder if he is using a voice changer.

I sat down next to her as I continued the conversation, "Why are you meeting me now if you're worried that others will see you for who you really are?" ”

"I'll leave this answer open for now, and I'll wait until my client arrives. Now I can only say that I am also forced to helpless, and it is not an exaggeration to say that my life is at stake. She smiled helplessly, then straightened her expression and stretched out her right hand to me, "Anyway, please take care of me first." ”

I nodded, habitually stretched out my left hand, and then I realized that I should have stretched out my right hand, but my right arm had been disabled for so long in the past, and I couldn't adapt to it for a while.

But before she could change her hand, she had already grasped it with her left hand and shook it up and down in a careless way.

I suddenly noticed that there was a callus on the side of the middle finger of her left hand, which looked like a "pen cocoon" that took a long time to form with a pen, indicating that she was actually left-handed. I jotted down this trait, and then casually said, "Since they all said please take care of it, why don't you report your real name?" ”

Unexpectedly, she actually reported a string of names, "Sonya. Shangri-La. "But it must be a pseudonym, and it adds up to more than three times as much as mine, and I decided to throw it in the recycle bin in my mind later.

"And what about your real name?" She retorted with a smile.

"Hasta." I replied with a straight face.

"Where's the last name?" She asked.

"Lovecraft." I now have a surname.

"Doesn't sound like it's made up."

"So are you."

As we spoke, someone entered the fast-food restaurant again.

*

I looked at it at the same time as Adam.

The visitor was dressed in a contrived black trench coat, sunglasses, a blue mask, and a red hood with broken hair that was clearly a wig.

Barely visible through his exposed skin, he was a yellow male, and there was no doubt that he didn't want people to discover his true identity, and even insisted on walking into a fast-food restaurant in such an unbearable outfit. But then again, while this is a bit of a "disguise", no, pretty low, it does work wonders just from the perspective of concealing your true identity.

The waiter behind the counter saw him and for a moment showed the reaction of a passerby who witnessed a cosplay fanatic on the street, but quickly coughed, retracted, and then seemed to be stuck in a tangle of not knowing whether to come up and talk to him.

Adam, on the other hand, raised his hand, as if he didn't mind the fancy dress, and greeted the visitor, "Here, here." ”

The latter hesitated, then came over, sat down on the other side of Adam, and began to stare at me.

"His name is Hasegawa, and that's what I said about the customer." Adam said to me, "I'm also a psyker. ”

"Hello." I nodded at him, and it occurred to me that while it must be another pseudonym, if nothing else, this psionic person should be a Japanese - no, "Japanese" is the name given to him by the Earth in the previous life, and in this world, it should be called "Resident of the Sakura Region".

Then, Adam introduced me to him again, using the pseudonym I had just reported, and even had a narrow smile on his face, "This is 'Hasta. Mr. Lovecraft'. ”

"Thank you for the introduction,' Sonya. Miss Shangri-La. I retorted.

At the same time, since just now, this "Hasegawa", who was dressed quite suspiciously, has been staring at me closely, and I can't see his eyes clearly through the sunglasses, but I still have the feeling of being stared at fiercely. Although it is common sense not to look around when talking to people, his stare is too aggressive and makes people feel very impolite.

Adam also handed him a cup of milk tea, which he casually took and nodded to Adam in thanks.

Then he took a sip, looked at me, and uttered his first words, "Did you really kill the Sheepskin Killer?" ”

"It's me." I replied.

"You're a liar! You're not even a psyker. He flatly denied.

"There are many ways to kill psionics." I said, "For example, if Adam wanted to kill you just now, he could have poisoned the milk tea." ”

Adam took an innocent pose while Hasegawa remained staring at me closely, "Adam has no motive to kill me, and psionics won't die of toxins." ”

"Whoever wants to kill you, if he doesn't forget his brain on the pillow, won't let you know that he has this motive. Besides, what doesn't work against psionics is just normal toxins. I said.

"So, you can kill the Sheepskin Killer with assassination techniques." Hearing this, he seemed to have misunderstood something, and then asked, "So, what about his corpse?" Hand it over to me. ”

"Before that." I had no intention of following in his footsteps, "Tell me first, what the mysterious organization you are investigating is, and what the sheepskin killer has to do with it. ”

He flexed his knuckles and tapped the table impatiently, "Answer my question first!" ”

"One question and one question." I said, "I've answered your first question, now it's your turn." ”

"Do you know—" his tone turned threatening, "I can always change the way I can 'ask' you more efficiently." ”

This guy's way of negotiating is really full of typical Black Zone flavor.

The inhabitants of the Black Zone believe that violence does not solve all problems, but it can solve most problems, and that if they can be solved by violence, they will not be solved in more troublesome ways.

In the eyes of civilized people, this style of conduct is naturally barbaric, unconstructive, and even "questionable IQ level".

But at the end of the day, if these people know what it means to be "more constructive in communication" and learn to "solve problems civilly," they won't be in the black zone at all.

The Black Zone is never a high-class place, and visionaries never use it as a starting line. If you only know about the Black Zone through "dark fictional stories", you may imagine another society with both "violent aesthetics", "black humor" and "evil romance", but in fact: there is only violence here, no aesthetics; Only black, no humor; There is only evil, no romance. It's not even "another society", it's just a very dirty, smelly local circle.

I know very well that if you take a step back at this time, you will only give up the initiative for dialogue in vain. Although taking a-for-tat attitude here can be a feeling of being lowered to the same IQ level by others, I still have to say, "I'm sorry, I don't know, why don't you 'explain' with action?" ”

"Good." Hasegawa said coldly, "It seems that just the assassination of a sheepskin killer awakened with drugs has made you misunderstand psykers. He said, standing up, "Now I'll help you come to your senses." ”

Adam immediately stopped, "Wait a minute......

But before she could finish, Hasegawa leaned forward and stretched out his hand to me.

Just as I was thinking about the word "medicine" in his words, and was about to tear off one of his arms first, his face changed drastically, and he fell backwards, still in a panic, accidentally tripped over a chair behind him and fell to the ground. I didn't have time to do anything, but he was embarrassed like a strong homeroom teacher who had offended his able-bodied head teacher in the classroom, and was forcibly picked up, thrown out, and smashed over a problem student with desks and chairs.

The waiter hurriedly rushed over to help Hasegawa.

I put down my buttocks, which were slightly off the surface of my chair, and wondered about the situation, and immediately came up with a more reasonable answer based on my previous experience: this rough Hasegawa is the opposite of me, and he is also a guy with outstanding inspiration among psykers.

Therefore, before you get hurt, you can preemptively use inspiration to predict what will happen if you continue.

Thinking back to Adam last night, and today he is so obsessed with the "corpse of the sheepskin killer", he is likely to be a rare "psychic medium".

Adam looked at Hasegawa in disbelief, and then turned to look at me, as if he had some kind of speculation.

She looked cautious and asked me, "Are you a 'Faceling'?" ”

I nodded.