Sprinkle sand in the dark. Hopkins was nervous and tired. If you look at the search ,..

For the time being, only Beelzebub noticed this, he sat in the VIP seat, separated only by a wide waterway from Sasha, his eyes emitting a faint golden light in the faint light, which allowed him to see clearly what ordinary people could not see—the pale "color" hair pressed against his forehead, scattering sand. Hopkins was expressionless, his lips were tightly taut, straight as a line drawn on a white piece of paper, his purple eyes were hard to tell the shade of their color in the dim light, but Beelzebub could find his gaze—the boy's gaze did not fall on the keyboard of the plucked clavichord, but kept following Siren, his shoulders slightly arched, his feet not on the clavichord's footboard, they were on the ground, and his heels were slightly dangling.

Perhaps Beelzebub's gaze was too direct, little Hopkins turned his head and glanced at him, his cheeks shiny, not the glitter of makeup, but sweat, which had left on his forehead, down his cheekbones along his eyebrows, from his chin to his neck, and finally into the black stand-up collar.

Beelzebub knew he didn't have any such thing as musicality, but he at least knew if he was in danger, like the last time Siren and Hopkins had joined together—it made him uncomfortable, and he had almost exhausted all his strength to resist its effects—so tonight he had put on specially set headphones, which almost covered half of his head and blocked out most of the sound, and he would still be attracted, but that attraction was not much left after layers of filtering and the interference of the reverse sound waves.

The boy from Poseidon Island hesitated for a moment, took off his headphones, and the loud sound created by the sound equipment and the "shooting" board rushed to his eardrums like a big "tide", he took a deep breath and waited for a while, his ears perfectly conveyed everything he heard into his brain after adjusting to the fright, Xiren's voice was still as bright and gorgeous as a jewel, high-pitched and unique, but Beelzebub quickly noticed it. The sound of Hopkins has changed, it is no longer a golden pedestal under a precious stone, nor is it a winged around the wings that send it to the sky, at first glance it sounds flawless and works in harmony with the song, but in fact, each syllable of it has a delay and advance, and the singing of Siren is destroyed by it. But the delay and advance are so small that even the professionals can't feel it.

Beelzebub couldn't have heard it, of course, but he was able to use his body and brain to determine—it stands to reason that a complete, unprocessed live chorus should have had a greater effect on him—no, he didn't have the anger and fear that erupted from his own powerlessness again.

He had been with Sasha for a long time, and they were running on the empty beach. Swim in warm waters, attend classes at school, and train thugs in airtight rooms or open courtyards (beaten and beaten, assault and assaulted, to be exact), from hand-to-hand combat to guns and knives of all kinds. Occasionally, they would sit with Anthony. Dr. Hopkins in front of him. Listen to him tell interesting little stories. They bathed together, sometimes slept in the same bed, and gradually got used to the smell of the other person, their heartbeat, and their body temperature - it was not easy, Beelzebub and Sasha were not the kind of good children who would rush to the arms with a smile on your face as soon as you opened your arms - they had to get closer to each other little by little, cautious and conservative, trying to make the other person feel their kindness without getting too close and making the other person feel like a threat.

Hopkins was a little more indifferent than Beelzebub, as if he had only his father, so Beelzebub tended to do more. On this Chegalle. Bisandi, another father agreed, but he also reminded Beelzebub that Poseidon Island was the real foundation, and Beelzebub agreed with that, so he would look for an opportunity to introduce Beep to Grande, and there might be others in the future, but he also needed to sprinkle sand. Hopkins is a friend like Chegalle and Anthony. Hopkins like that. Poseidon Island needs new blood, especially after both Chegal and Beelzebub have confirmed their identity as Adepts, and they need people who are "the same" as themselves. Of course, it would be best if there was a Poseidon Island woman with the Hopkins surname in the future.

Precisely because of this. Beelzebub had always paid close attention to this friend, and he quickly got used to it and found pleasure in it. Sasha. Hopkins, like his father, was as taciturn and incalculable as his father, wanting to understand their minds, especially Anthony. Hopkins's is even more difficult and dangerous than dancing with the devil, but fortunately Beelzebub doesn't have to face him for the time being.

After more than a thousand days and nights of speculation and speculation, Beelzebub was able to read a little bit of information from little Hopkins, and in many cases, this ability could be of great help - for example, now he knew about Sasha. Hopkins was pitting off Siren — not the first time they met, not the same time in the studio, and even more so different from the last rehearsal. Hopkins not only resisted Siren's singing, he also successfully countered it, and he was breaking and dispelling the "mystery" spell - although Beelzebub did not understand why Hopkins was doing this, he was still vigilant and prepared.

The beautiful sound that echoed in the hall gradually subdued and slowly disappeared, and the first song of Xiren was over, and she stood motionless on the huge pillar, her red eyes looking down on the humans who were intoxicated and obsessed with her, and Beelzebub suddenly thought of the red-eyed waterfowl he had seen, the scavenger of the sea, which the fishermen thought was the corpse of a drowned, a bad omen, and at that time, like Xiren, stood at the top of the mast with a pair of bony legs, and said nothing.

The general stage supervisor clapped his hands, the staff busied, and the lights hidden in the auditorium flickered, waking them up. On the monitor, the audience woke up from a dream, stood up, shouted, clapped their hands, and threw flowers and small gifts onto the stage.

A white flower mandala fell on Bao'er's shoulder, he frowned in disgust, he wanted to bounce it off, but after finding it fresh and beautiful, he changed his mind, he grabbed it and held it in his hand.

Xiren raised his hands, and the audience suddenly stopped all movements and sounds, and a rustling sound came from the monitor.

"She wanted to speak," said one stage manager, "and there was no such arrangement." ”

The general stage supervisor connected to Glegri. Corso: "What to do?" ”

"Let her speak," said Glegri, "maybe she'll surprise us." ”

"Alright," the Superintendent said into the microphone, "only two minutes, Xiren." ”

Xiren "revealed" a strange smile.

"Today," she said, her voice trembling slightly at first, but she regained her composure, "it's the last time I'll stand before you and sing for you." ”

Immediately, there was a wave of opposition and pleading from the audience.

"It's my decision." Xiren suddenly raised his voice: "My decision, my dear friends. Her voice suddenly lowered again: "I know, you like me, don't you?" ”

"Yes!"

"Love me?"

"Love!"

"Forgive me, then." Xiren's eyes flickered, "Close-up." The camera moved, and the 50,000 spectators and millions or more on the West Coast saw her long eyelashes moistened with tears and brighter red eyes, the stage manager said.

"Forgive me." Xiren said again, she held the microphone, and the superintendent made a gesture.

The pillar began to spin slowly, and the chorus singers hidden in the darkness swung their bodies and hummed softly, a deep and soothing tune, and the audience sat down one after another, quietly waiting for Siren's voice to tear the air and their eardrums again.

Xiren opened his mouth, but they didn't hear anything.

(To be continued)

n (one second to remember the world)