Leaving the town of Cerma from the north, a gravel road through a corn field and a low wooded walk leads to a three-storey house.

Being far from the main road and sheltered by the woods, the house is almost isolated from the outside world. However, of all the farmhouses on the outskirts of the town, only this one is surrounded by wasteland, so if you get closer, this lonely house standing in the middle of the wasteland will stand out as a standout.

The surrounding scenery has been immersed in twilight. A light rain began to fall in the air.

In the attic window of the lonely house stood a woman with a haggard face. She held an unlit candle in her hands and her eyes fixed on the flat field in the distance.

Facing the woman's face, over the vast cornfields, there is a chic mansion on the hillside on the edge of the town.

Unlike the dimming outside, the interior of the Smith House is brightly lit.

"So, the Chinese boy will be forced to like her. There is no cause, it cannot be changed, and it cannot be suppressed. ”

The person who spoke was Kurt Midhoff. He sat down on the sofa in the living room of the mansion, and then reached out and straightened the corners of his clothes.

In the eyes of the town's original residents, Kurt, who is nearly middle-aged, is a respected professor of psychology. However, at this moment, he does not carry this ordinary identity.

Whenever Kurt shows up in any classroom at the university, this class is absolutely unattended. His frighteningly accurate analytical skills are always admired by students.

Contrary to the impression that Kurt doesn't like to analyze everything exactly — he just has to do it. For as long as he can remember, his brain has been in a fast, non-stop state. To use a figurative analogy: everything worth thinking about is like engine oil that makes his brain work smoothly, and if there is not enough oil, the inside of this brain will rub and heat, and it will produce a feeling of misery.

So far, Kurt has only found one way to rest his brain – by talking to people. However, this method does not always work. If the conversation doesn't flow smoothly and deeply, he will feel a pressure that swells from the inside of his brain to the outside. Compared to this feeling, "friction and heat" is simply too comfortable.

Thirty minutes ago, Kurt's brain almost burst out again. At that time, he could not translate his conclusions directly into results, so he had to ask the same question three times in a row. What made him even more painful was that he knew exactly how the other party would respond in the first two times.

"Do you know where the Smith Mansion is?"

When Kurt first uttered the words, he scribbled the words "I didn't hear you" on a piece of paper with his unheld phone.

"Do you know where the Smith Mansion is?"

The second time, he wrote, "Who are you?" This time, due to excessive force, he broke the tip of the pen while drawing the question mark.

This kind of situation happens from time to time in Kurt's daily life. Sadly, he couldn't show his inner struggle and pain. Because that will only slow down the pace of communication, lead to more unnecessary topics, and form a vicious circle.

"The use of the word 'forced' seems to be a bit more important."

The hostess of the mansion, Mrs. Elena Smith, walked slowly across from Kurt and placed the tray in her hand on the coffee table between the two. "After all, in the aesthetic of any country, Emilia is a lovely girl." She took down the seven sets of teacups and saucers from the tray in turn, arranging them neatly one by one.

"We're talking about the same Emilia?" Kurt responded, "Most of the time, she's more like a wax figure in motion. It's actually quite scary, especially when she doesn't say a word for days. ”

"If she hears," said Mrs. Smith in a sarcastic tone, "she will be moved." She sat down on the couch on the side, reached for the lid of the teapot, and placed her other hand over the open spout.

Although it did not come into contact with any heat source, the tea in the pot boiled within seconds.

"I want to ask why." Kurt accentuated his tone slightly.

Mrs. Smith's hand gripping the lid shook in the air, but the next second, the hand steadily put the lid back on top of the teapot. "Which one why?" She said quietly, "Why did you let Emilia and Ziang join the same squad?" Or why did you want to take over this mission? ”

"Why do you want to do that kind of experiment?" Kurt said.

"Don't you know that?" Mrs. Smith immediately responded, "It was just in time for the first exchange between the Chinese and American spiritual circles, and Emilia's father and Ziang's grandfather were doing the same research, so it was only natural that the test subjects should ......be selected."

"Not the one given by the guild." Kurt interrupted Mrs. Smith, "It's the real, you know. ”

Mrs. Smith chuckled softly. She picked up the teapot and filled the seven teacups one by one.

"By the way," Kurt pointed to the teacup on the table, "no one else is going to be here except Dylan." ”

Mrs. Smith looked at Kurt. "Look, I'll just say, it's okay, don't reason blindly." She picked up a cup of tea and blew it gently, "I'm in a hurry, and I don't like hot drinks, so I want to cool several cups of tea together at once." If you want to drink, I can prepare another cup for you. ”

Kurt looked to the side, ignoring the other man.

"So, about this mission." Mrs. Smith took a cautious sip of her tea, "The spirit detected by the guild is located in Donald Doon's home. She said, "As for this Donald, I think you've heard of it." It happened this morning, when you were in college. ”

"The murderer killed in public, and then committed suicide at home." "The only thing that can be of interest to people is the murderer's wife's phrase, 'His hanged body is gone,' but we happen to work in the spiritual world, so the rare puzzle is solved." I say this......" he suddenly lowered his voice, "are you satisfied?" ”

"Satisfied." Mrs. Smith put down her teacup and looked at Kurt with a smile. "If that's what you think, I'll be more satisfied."

Kurt shifted his gaze to the fireplace at the other end of the room.

Directly above the fireplace hangs an oil painting that does not fit in with the elegance of the room—an oil painting, but in fact it is a simple painting sketched on linen with a single stroke of black ink. This ink depicts the shape of the Greek letter "Ω", but the bottom vertex of this "Ω" is much smoother and the angle of bending is relatively small.

"Please, Professor Midhoff." Mrs. Smith continued, "We all know who killed her, but I don't know exactly how she went. To satisfy my curiosity, you can reluctantly explain it to me. ”

Kurt withdrew his gaze. "Answer my question first," he said blandly, "how many more people will die?" ”

Mrs. Smith put away her smile. "If the new players have been doing well, three." She reached for another teacup and sipped off the top layer of tea, "Four, if something goes wrong." ”

Kurt turned his head, letting his gaze linger on Mrs. Smith's face for a few seconds. Instead, he looked away again and exhaled softly. "You know the road plan near the central plaza." "Donald's wife was caught by a camera on the side of the school building around eight o'clock, and a few minutes later, a camera at the door of the dormitory house caught Donald himself," he said. So, Donald drove through the parking lot, onto the south side of the road, dropped Kelly out of the school building, then turned around and went back to the parking lot and parked the car. Since each other's places of work are next to each other, it is more natural for the two of them to get off in the parking lot at the same time. ”

"What do you want to say?" Mrs. Smith asked, "How can I not see any connection between this and the death of the schoolgirl?" ”

Kurt glanced at his watch, got up and left the couch. "I won't be able to answer you until after tonight." He walked to the window and turned his back to the living room door.

There is no sunlight out of the window. It was raining lightly in the air.

Knock, knock, knock......

After a knock on the door, a panting Dylan pushed open the living room door and walked in. "Hey, I'm sorry, it's too big here, and I finally found you." He looked at Kurt's back, "Thanks, give, give me this opportunity, Mr. Midhoff." You're standing there. I've only met once, but I recognize the back of your head. How could it be forgotten, someone like you, so impressive. ”

Kurt rubbed his forehead and continued to stare at the rain outside the window, pretending not to hear Dylan.