Mysterious Master

A dog is a mouse

Whew, we finally got past the psychic...

Kline exhaled and turned slowly, enjoying the quiet of the night and the cool breeze as he paced near the apartment door.

He took out the key and inserted it, twisting it gently, letting the crimson black expand with the creak.

Walking on the deserted stairs, breathing in the cold air, Klein had a spring in his step because of the strange feeling that he had a few more hours of life.

With a similar attitude, he opened the door of his house, but before he could step into it, he saw a figure sitting quietly in the darkness in front of his desk. It was Melissa, with red hair, bright brown eyes and a beautiful face. Moretti!

"Crane, where have you been?" Melissa asked, her eyebrows unfurling.

Without waiting for Klein to answer, she added, as if to spell out the logic of what had happened: "I got up to go to the bathroom, and you weren't home."

Cline, who had plenty of experience deceiving parents, thought quickly and replied with a wry smile:

"After I woke up once, I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd waste my time by exercising, so I went out for a few laps, and you see, I was all sweaty."

He took off his coat, turned half round, and pointed to his back.

Melissa stood up, took a nonchalant look, deliberated for a few seconds, and said,

"Well, Cline, you don't have to, you don't have to stress too much. You can get through the interview at Tingen, and even if you don't, well, I mean if, you can do better."

I hadn't even thought about the interview... Cline nodded.

"I understand."

He didn't say he had an "offer" because he wasn't sure whether to go or not.

Melissa took a deep look at him, spun around, ran into the back room, and pulled out a tortoise-shaped piece of gear, rusty iron, springs, and clockwork.

With a quick twist, Melissa set the object on her desk.

Click click, da da da, the "turtle" a jump a walk, very rhythm, let a person involuntarily will attention to it.

"When you're feeling upset, it's so much better to watch it move like this. I've been doing it a lot lately. It works! Crane, try it." Melissa invited, her eyes shining brightly.

Clyne did not refuse his sister's kindness. He looked closer at the turtle, waited until it stopped, and then smiled.

"Simplicity and regularity can really bring relaxation."

Without waiting for Melissa, he points to the tortoise and casually asks:

"Do it yourself? When did you do it? Why didn't I know?"

"I only finished it two days ago, using materials I didn't want at school and things I found on the road." Melissa looked the same, the corners of her mouth turned a little.

"That's impressive." Klein said heartily.

As a boy with poor mechanical skills, he struggled to put together a four-wheel drive when he was young.

Melissa's chin lifted, her eyes bent a little, and her voice was flat.

"All right, all right."

"Too much modesty is bad character." Crane chuckled. "Is this a turtle?"

There was a sudden chill in the room, and Melissa's voice sounded like a crimson veil:

"It's an action figure."