I think of those birds of 774. And the bird's eyes. The fourth prince.

None of us spoke.

"The other day," DTR35 said, "I heard shouting. "I think of those stains. I looked at him, then at the fried 774, and decided not to mention it.

Something woke me up in the middle of the night. I looked out through the vent and saw a pair of legs.

The boy.

"Hey!" I beckoned to him. He was dressed in jeans and a shirt, no different from any boy, a little younger than me, maybe twelve or thirteen, with black curly hair and black eyes, not the slightest surprise.

"Can you open this door?" I smiled flatteringly, but after a few moments, he just looked at me like that, or I felt like he was looking at me and didn't answer. "Can you—"

The boy threw a toy at me, like some kind of bouncy ball, and hit the vent. I retracted and watched my legs go into the distance.

The next day, the bodyguards woke us up by banging on the door, and they made us take turns using the bathroom, and I stared at the mirror and combed my hair. There were bodyguards watching us all the time. They work shifts and are highly disciplined. How many men did Stefan have? "Can I get something to eat?" I guess this excuse is clever enough for me to get a little chance.

"Take it yourself, you only have five minutes." He said emotionlessly. Are they all emotionless killing machines? It took me a little time to find the fridge, it was full of luxuries that I hadn't eaten, and I was worried that I wanted to enjoy it, but my stomach couldn't stand it. So finally lingering on caviar and bird's nest, I picked up the orange juice in the corner. Then I took a glass. The cups are heavy and the glass is of good quality. I think it sinks enough to shatter on the tiles, and I have the weapon to cut the artery in my neck. But my caretaker came up to me and watched my every move closely, and I saw his hand on the pistol in his belt as if he were inadvertently resting on it. I poured out the orange juice, drank it down, and walked out.

After a while, DTR35 and 774 walked up from the other side of the hallway, 774 with a few more scratches on his face. The guy in the jersey came over and took me from the bodyguard. "Put on your shoes, we're leaving."

"Where?" I suspect it's some kind of secret lab or something. That institute. I laughed again. That's the name. In order to make others think that there is only one such institute.

"On the street, I'll let you go down in the park."

"Go down?" The corners of 774's bruised mouth twitched.

"Yes, let you go."

I blinked. Unconscionable. So much has happened. "That's it?"

"That's all."

As we were wheeled into the room where we had spent the night to tie our shoes, 774 whispered to me that it wasn't good. He must have been so ambiguous that the jersey man behind us coughed a few times.

But the DTR35 had a smile on its face. "They're going to let us go."

I shook my head. "There's no reason for them to do that."

"I don't know, but they probably don't need us anymore."

"DTR35, something isn't right."

He stood up and exclaimed, "I've been overworked lately, and I'm going to live a different way when I get out." I've been working so hard lately for experiments, I've spent so much time, and I've gotten nothing. I'm never going to do research again. It's time to cut fertilizer. Lawn fertilization does make grass grow faster, but what is grass for? And don't make money. ”

DTR35,,774 anxiously whispered, "Is it okay to concentrate?" ”

"I'm focused. I've been here for two weeks, and today they're going to let me go home. ”

"Do you believe his nonsense?"

"He said he was going to let us go."

I remembered the mentor. He can never remember the bad days. He will trust his imagination and go from conscious anesthesia to the unconscious, and then conscious anesthesia to the unconscious. Maybe we all have this ability, and we can use it when we need to.

We walked into that elevator, but there was no car waiting for us, just a garage-sized elevator box. "Get in." They pushed us in. The elevator began to descend, and 774 leaned uncomfortably towards me.

DTR35 is smiling. "Things are finally turning around."

I don't know what to say. "yes."

"I can see our colleagues."

"yes."

"The blind must miss us very much."

Blindman! My stomach cramped. I could only damn my fear and nodded.

The jersey man suddenly raised his arm and fired a shot at the chest of the DTR35.

It wasn't until the gunshots rang out, converging in the metal cage, that I screamed.

774 pounced on the jersey man, but he was prepared and used his momentum against him. He grabbed 774's arm and slammed it into the elevator door, and after a horrible shake, 774 knelt next to DTR35's body, his hands dripping with bright red blood. He tried to hook the jersey man's foot, but the jersey man stomped on his hand and rubbed it vigorously until the flesh separated. I tried to help him, but a punch hit me in the jaw, I was kicked in the ribs again, my consciousness faded away, it became blank, the air in my lungs was all squeezed out, and I was like a fish on the shore, I could barely breathe. The elevator shuddered and stopped. I heard someone walk out and then someone grabbed me by the ankle and dragged me out there. Just a short time in the elevator.

They picked me up and threw me on top of the bleeding DTR35, and I wasn't sure if he was dead. Then there was the JR774 that weighed heavily on me, and the smell of blood in his mouth made me sick to my stomach. My final counterattack was to spit blood and bile on the jersey man's shoes. I pressed my hand, but like someone else's hand, I didn't feel anything. My gaze forced from the rearview mirror to the person driving. He immediately drew his gun. I remembered the shape of the sand shift, like six circular magazines, but this is a semi-automatic, presumably the DTR35 knows better.

I closed my eyes.

"People often forget that they are going to die one day." The blind man seems to be smiling.

We should remember.

The jersey man held down his impulsive colleague. "Now is not the time, unless you want to dig a hole here yourself." The driver was still roaring angrily, but reluctantly withdrew his gun. Yes, let us go. I can imagine going to the park and watching them dig holes and bury us. Even if they did, they would have become bones long ago.

The throttle slammed open, and the car jolted forward, the blood of the DTR35 soaking my clothes and my freshly combed hair sticking to the bloody scabs. I think I caused them to be the problem. For a moment, I suddenly missed the time I was chatting with him next door.

I saw the waves, like the waves of the interference stripes.