Mysterious Master

Crimson

Pain!

It hurts!

My head hurts!

The dream, which was full of strange whispers, quickly fell apart. In his sleep, Zhou Mingrui felt a throbbing pain in his head, as if he had been hit hard with a club. No, it was more like being stabbed in the temple by a sharp object and stirred!

Hiss... In a daze, Zhou wanted to roll over, cover his head and sit up, but he couldn't move his hands and feet. His body seemed to lose control.

It seems that I am not really awake, still in the dream... Later, there may be a situation where they think they are awake, but they are actually still asleep... Zhou Mingrui, who is no stranger to similar encounters, tried to concentrate his will to completely get rid of the shackles of darkness and psychedelia.

But when he was half asleep, his will drifted like smoke, hard to control, hard to retract, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not help thinking and thinking.

Perfectly fine, in the middle of the night, how can suddenly headache?

And the pain is so bad!

It's not a cerebral hemorrhage or anything, is it?

Oh, my God. I'm not gonna die young, am I?

Wake up! Wake up!

Gee, doesn't it hurt as much? But it's still like a dull knife slowly cutting away inside my head...

I can't go back to sleep. How are we going to work tomorrow?

Why do you want to go to work? Have a real headache, of course, is to ask for leave! Don't be afraid of Rory the manager.

Think of it this way, it seems not bad ah, hey, steal a floating life half a day free!

After a while of pain let Zhou Mingrui drip accumulation of illusory power, finally, he confidently move the back open his eyes, completely get rid of the state of half asleep.

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In front of him was a wood-colored desk. In the middle of it lay an open book of notes. The paper was rough and yellow, and a sentence was written in strange letters, deep black and bold.

On the left side of the notebook, near the edge of the table, was a neat stack of books, about seven or eight books, and on the right side of them, the wall was inlaid with gray pipes and wall lamps connected with pipes.

The lamp is a Western classic, about half the size of an adult's head, with a clear glass interior and a black metal lattice outside.

At the Angle of the extinguished wall lamp, a black ink bottle was covered with a pale red glow, the surface of the convex form a vague angel pattern.

In front of the inkstand, to the right of the notebook, a dark, plump pen, its tip shimmering, its cap resting next to a brackish revolver.

A pistol? Revolver? Zhou Mingrui was stunned. What he saw was so strange that it did not resemble his own room.

Stunned and bewildered, he noticed that his desk, his notebook, his inkstand, and his revolver were all covered with a crimson veil, the light shining through the window.

Unconsciously, he lifted his head and looked up a little:

High in the sky above a black velvet curtain, the crimson full moon shone serenely.