If you're not afraid of being upset in the coming year, open me."

Thoth stared at the words on the cover for a long time, and his knowledge of Amon and his spiritual intuition as a voyeur told him that this was not an exaggerated threat, and that if he had seen the contents, his mind would have been turned upside down.

Life in the world,More things are better than less.,So the wise choice should be to pretend not to find it.,Anyway, there are so many things that come up from the sacrifice.,It's normal to miss one or two things just so much.,What's more, this book is still so mediocre.。

But Thoth opened it anyway, and after taking a deep breath, with the expectation of a gambler uncovering the dice cup, and with the apprehension of an adventurer entering a lightless cave. Maybe it's because of the rebellious mentality, maybe it's the worry that if you pretend not to see it, the person who sent the thing will be sad, or with the self-comforting idea of "I haven't seen any strong winds and waves, how can I endure a few words in a notebook", he just opened it and hesitated for no more than half a minute.

Soon, he was fascinated by it, as if he had set his eyes on Amun, who had been incarnated as the "Mona Lisa", and walked through the streets of the north, sometimes smiling, sometimes shaking his head helplessly, and sometimes falling into deep thought.

The light dimmed, Badheil rolled up the orange-red banner, Amanises shook off the hem of his skirt like a dark river, the stars twinkled quietly, Thoth pointed a finger, and countless glass balls hanging from the ceiling lit up, illuminating the beautiful handwriting on the paper. As if for fear of disturbing the night, and as if for fear of abrupt the author's efforts, Thoth's action of turning the page unconsciously became lighter, like twisting the wings of a dragonfly. At the same time, He realized that it was not so much a diary of his observations as a long bound letter.

The cool night breeze skimmed over the treetops and fell to His ears into the rustle of the tip of a pen on paper, and Amun of the past spoke wordlessly to the future Him, perhaps in the dead of night, with a little candlelight next to him. It suddenly occurred to Thoth that they hadn't seen each other in over a month.

Months, months, or even years may seem like a mythical creature, but He has the illusion that it has been a long time. He held it in his hands for a moment, so heavy that he could barely hold it, and he simply kicked off his shoes, sat down on the bed, bent his knees, and placed the diary on his lap.

In fact, as long as Thoth wanted to, the "message" of this diary could flow directly into his head, but he deliberately read it slowly and carefully, and he also processed a few prayers in the middle, plus Amon recorded it every day, so he only read the "eleventh day" in the middle of the moon.

When he saw that the girls of the school were still so full of energy, Thoth smiled with satisfaction.

"It's amazing to see them doing their own things and being merry with each other, but I always think of you."

"I think of you in the glorious days, pretending to be a bard, traveling and preaching at the same time......

"I think of you in your nightgown, with your feet crossed, and a pile of manuscript papers next to you......

"I don't think of the past, but I don't think about it, and I feel at ease as the "Master of Prophecy"......

Reading these words, Thoth seemed to be enchanted, and forgot to breathe for a moment, he never knew that he would be observed so closely, a tingling shame rose from his heart, and was forced to press down by him, he shook his head, forced a calm look on his face, and drank to himself not to think too much, "We have been together for so many years, what is so strange about familiar looks, postures, and habits? He's just careful, it must be."

It must be so.

After a few months, he continued to listen to Amun's story, and the tone of the angel was peaceful, restrictive, and nostalgic, but it shattered his luck in a way that left no room for it.

"Although I know that your love is largely due to my father's entrustment, I also know how pure your love is, so pure that it is not intended to be reciprocated, so pure that it is difficult to derive other possibilities."

"But I still can't help but think of you."

"Just like now."

As if burned by fire, Thoth snapped the diary shut, and his face turned the color of a beetroot as if it had been burned by fire.

Two villains began to fight in His heart, one in the corner of the corner, shouting, "Don't think much about the separation between friends

It's normal to miss each other!" The other snorted coldly and sneered, "Come on, would you speak to your friend in such a tender tone?"

A person who learns a foreign language will unconsciously develop an astonishing comprehension, and even if he does not know the meaning of all the words of an English article when he is still he, or Monber, or a student, he can analyze and intuit the author to determine whether the author is denouncing or praising or praising or boasting, and then accurately find the correct one of the four ABCD options - and there is not a single word or sentence pattern in this diary that he cannot read, so there is no reason why he cannot grasp the thoughts and feelings in it.

He just couldn't believe it as sure as he could paint the correct option on the answer sheet.

The silver letters on the cover glittered in the light, as if to say, "I warned you that you had to see it, and you can't blame me."

Oh, so I have to thank you for your thoughtfulness, right? Thoth thought indignantly, suddenly realizing that part of the "initiator" remained with him.

The tiny Worm of Time was circling his tail finger, it knew when to make a fuss, when to play dead, and was dutifully pretending to be a ring, trying to suppress its presence - although it was the right size, not too loose or too tight, but Thoth couldn't just think of it as an accessory to play with in his spare time.

He reached for it, and the Worm of Time tightened in protest, but as He frowned at the tightness, it immediately relaxed again, obediently grasped by two fingers, detached from its long-standing knuckles.

And then what?

What should He do?

The Worm of Time still maintains a circular posture, waiting to fall in peace—whether it is locked in a drawer or thrown out like garbage, it will eventually leave this hand, so it just grabs a minute and feels the soft fingertips.

In the next second, it fell into the palm of a palm, not soft, wrapped in a thick callus, which was left behind when the "Master of Prophecy" wielded his sword on the battlefield of the Second Age.

Fingers clasped together, and it heard a long, emotional sigh before the darkness drowned it out.

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In Amon's memory, his father always said, "The gift of fate has already been secretly marked with a price."

This sentence is embodied in all aspects of the mysterious world, such as the higher the sequence of the extraordinary, the more dependent on external forces to consolidate self-awareness, such as the more powerful the seal, the more terrifying the negative effects - generally speaking, the more grandiose, the more wonderful, the more incredible things are, the more intense, the more tragic and difficult it is to bear.

What is the price of "abundance"?

In a filthy, polluted land, what will be the price of harvesting a pure crop?

With this question in mind, Amon looked down at Silver City in mid-air, and he took off the monocle that was clipped to his right eye socket and took out a pair of rimless glasses, the color of the rectangular lenses was slightly dull, giving people an unfathomable feeling.

"Hidden from you?"

Adam appeared beside him, without any warning, but not at all abrupt.

"Ten years ago, in order to promote believers to angels, He borrowed a few Time Worms from me, played some tricks, and gave me these glasses as a reward after the deed was completed."

Amon said expressionlessly, "The raw material is His eyes, plucked out of the form of mythical creatures."

Incidentally, the mythical creature of the Voyeur Man is a "honeycomb coal" with countless eyes.

Adam's expression showed a little cracking, but he maintained a calm tone: "It makes sense that you give him a part of your body, and He gives you a part of your body back."

"But I'd rather He gave me something plain." Amon put on his glasses, "though it's just right now."

Thoth named the pair of glasses "Cyber Perspective", although when Amon asked what "Cyber" meant, he just smiled at the old god and didn't say much - this smile was seen by Amon when his father gave each angel wings, and he was given a pair of oily and smooth pure black feathers

The wings, which are usually folded in an extremely unscientific way, are tucked in the back.

According to my father, this is the "corporate culture" of the kingdom of God.

The remnants of the old days have always been a bit of a puzzling operation, but after all these years, Amon has become somewhat accustomed to it.

Now, Amon has a little sense of the meaning of the word "cyber", because through this lens, the city-state is not a city-state, the ruins are not ruins, the soil is not soil, and the monsters are not monsters, but a bunch of abstract things composed of spiritual numbers and symbols, which are so redundant that he trembles, but fortunately, the time worms all over his body are mobilized to bear the pressure of information, so that he will not be dizzy.

"Actually, you can solve the problem in a more direct way." Adam also became an unspeakable nump in his vision, "such as stealing the memories of the leaders of Silver City to see if they knew anything."

"But it would take a lot of the fun out of it, and I won't have the opportunity to use these glasses."

"Or maybe you're not used to getting an entire memory out of your head." Adam didn't give him a chance to cover up, "If it was before, you would have let the doppelgangers parasitize the inhabitants of Silver City, scavenging all the useful information from their brains, but after realizing that something is wrong, your entry point is limited to the black-faced grass itself."

"You might even want to try your hand at growing black-faced grass."

The psychiatrist deliberately stabbed him.

"I just went to the greenhouses in the north a few times and got a lot of feelings, especially the ...... Magnificent slogans."

"What?"

"How bold is man, so fruitful is the earth."

Adam silently swallowed the saliva that almost choked on himself, and was extremely glad that he was just an indescribable lump in Amon's eyes at the moment.