Grandin hadn't eaten since he got off the steam train, and after another day of intense stress, he felt hungry enough to eat a cow.

"Are you sure you want to invite me to lunch, sir?"

Wiggins sat crampedly across the table. It was not yet four o'clock in the afternoon, and there was only one table of guests in the elegant restaurant, and he felt that the waiters in the whole restaurant were staring at him.

"Yes, it's normal for employers to take care of food, please feel free to order what you like."

Grandin flipped through the menu and ordered a few dishes that interested him. Seasonal vegetable stew, Dixi pie, and half a pound of barbecue, and he chose sweet iced tea for drinks, which can relieve greasy. Although the drink of choice for gentlemen's meals is usually a table wine, it doesn't matter.

Wiggins took the menu and looked at the text of the dishes on it, his throat moving slightly. He flipped through the pages of the menu, but he never decided what to order.

Grandin didn't rush, he picked up the wipes provided by the restaurant and wiped his hands while observing the boy.

This boy is literate, has brains, is not bad-hearted, and has the ability to drag a group of children to earn a living in the East End. And I am not familiar with the place where I have just come to Beckland, and it is very inconvenient to inquire about the news, so I may be able to hire them.

People are wary of strangers who suddenly appear, but they don't pay much attention to children running around.

Grandin was thinking about things. And Wiggins made a decision after flipping through the entire menu.

"I want rye bread."

"I'm sorry, sir, but this dish is not served in this restaurant."

The waiter's answer was a bit arrogant, as if it were an insult to him to let rye bread appear in the dining room.

Wiggins blushed.

"Just another one as I ordered, and one more white bread." Grandin knocked on the table and made a choice for the boy.

"Yes, sir. Please wait, the menu will be coming soon. The waiter took the menu and bowed away.

"Sir, you will surely become a great man!"

"Just because I treated you to a meal?"

"No, I don't know what to say, but I'm sure Sir will!" Wiggins affirmed.

Around this gentleman, he did not feel the slightest class difference. This made him feel incredible, because it meant that the man in front of him was treating everyone equally.

This gentleman is such a weirdo, but also a good man, please the goddess bless him.

Thinking so, Wiggins wiped his hands with a wet towel and moved his chair to the table, following Grandin's example.

Grandin inexplicably felt his potion digest some more. At this rate, it might not take him more than a month to digest the potion.

Looking at the sensible boy, he sighed again in his heart.

In a previous life, a child of this age was supposed to be a carefree student at school.

......

During the meal, Wiggins asked the waiter if he could take out the uneaten food, and after receiving a negative answer, he secretly hid his portion of butter.

Seeing this scene, Grandin smiled, there was a faint shadow of a tree in front of him, and he remembered the future he had decided for the boy-

Wiggins will share a portion of butter and bread with his companions in the evening.

Become the agent of destiny yourself?

In order to test his conjecture, Grandin, who had already eaten, simply clasped his hands around his chest, leaned back in a chair and closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. In the fierce burning of his own spirituality, he came to that special space again.

In the space, the "Numerology Tree" is rooted in a dark lake without light, the branches are windless, and the branches formed by those arms are slightly spread, which is completely different from the appearance of the last crazy and chaotic appearance. This time, Grandin watched them for a long time and even thought they were a little cute.

The surface of the lake beneath his feet occasionally rippled, but when he stepped on it, it returned back to the hard touch of marble. Putting his spirit into it didn't happen, and he was far from being able to control the space now.

Maybe my sequence is too low, and my strength is too weak.

Grandin was no longer entangled, and looked at the "numerology tree" again.

The branch that represented a piece of Wiggins' fate was randomly grafted onto Grandin's own "numerology tree". The fruit on the branches, which was completely illusory and transparent at first, has now become somewhat substantial.

It didn't take anyone to explain for Grandin to know that the moment of fate would also be the time when the fruit would ripen.

Maybe after tonight, the fruit will be fully ripe, and maybe it will bring me something new. Grandin thought about it, but decided to wait until the fruit was ripe.

He was preparing to sink his consciousness out of space. Out of the corner of his eye, he inadvertently caught a glimpse of the fluttering flakes around him, like black ash after a complete burn. There seem to be more of these floats representing future possibilities than ever before.

What does this mean? More options for your future? But isn't this dead and dead appearance too unlucky? He simply invested more spirituality, wanting to make an observation of fate.

"Future Observations!"

Spiritually engaged, but after devouring Grandin's spirituality, the "numerology tree" just swayed on its own, and there was no reaction at all.

Could it be that I am giving too broad a quota? It seems that just like divination, it is necessary to eliminate distractions as much as possible and narrow down the scope of predictions.

He thought for a moment and continued:

"Do I have a good night's sleep?"

Sensing his thoughts, the originally disorderly swinging branches of the "Numerology Tree" began to grasp the black fluttering in mid-air in unison.

With each slice of the slice, a possibility of the future flashed before Grandin's eyes.

He reads at night, he visits the black market at night, gambles in taverns, sleeps on sofas, sleeps in bridges...... All kinds of information about the future squeezed into his head in an instant, causing him to have a splitting headache, and even his spirit showed symptoms of overconsumption.

The "Numerology Tree" doesn't care about it, as long as it catches the future, it will be sent to Grandin.

He could no longer process the increasing amount of information, and in his mental distraction, he could only choose the future branch closest to him at will.

At the moment of his decision, the "Akaxia Catalog" emerged from the lake.

It made a proclamation in mid-air—

Fate is chosen, [Sleepless Tonight].

Before the voice fell, Grandin had already withdrawn from the space in embarrassment. He was dripping in cold sweat and his face was pale.

"What's wrong with you, sir?" Wiggins, who was scraping the remaining thick soup on his plate with white bread, asked with concern.

Glan waved his hand weakly, and every now and then some fragments of the future popped up in his mind, and each time they appeared, they were accompanied by a pain of his brain being sawed open by a chainsaw, which made it impossible for him to concentrate.

I can't afford this kind of consumption at all now, I have a headache like this, I don't need to predict, I can also know [Sleepless Tonight]! Is this also in your plan? Destiny!

Phew, I'll take the initiative to observe that I'm a dog!

Grandin said fiercely in his heart.