When I went back to the hotel, I looked at the archdeacon Saint-Germain with a thoughtful thousand eyes, crawling around the room on all fours, carpeting with a pinset to collect the falling hairs.
Oh, my God, this guy is disgusting! The movement is completely perverse.
Saint Germain is a former and life engineering professor. You must be trying to do some research on the hair that the psychic dropped as a clue. Mad scientist.
But isn't this a little nasty? The psychic's blood will fuel the PSI drive, and my bones can be used for semi-permanent enchanted items. From what I've looked into, there shouldn't be any chickens in psychic hair, but if academically top-notch professionals invest huge amounts of money and talent in research, they can find something, they can find it.
When I started twitching, I said as I opened the refrigerator provided and let my fingers wander between the wine bottle and the beer bottle.
"Could it be that you're seeing a thousand eyes now?
"Oh, well... you don't need the ability to read anymore."
"I can read it because it's Mr. Pestle. It's okay, I've been spraying sodium hypochlorite."
"What?"
This is it.
Saying so, he rolled his skirt and took out a small fog blow caught in the garter belt and shook it to show it. No, you were shushing when you left.
"Uh, what is it, next sub, next sub chlorine...... ClO...... sodium...... NaClO? When I was a student, I heard something in biology or chemistry class."
"Simply put, it's a drug that degrades the sample and makes genetic analysis impossible."
"Oh, wow!
"It's also used for disinfectants in the pool."
"What are you talking about………."
"The effect is certain. Successful hair harvesting is useless. Which means Saint-Germain can't get our DNA."
(10) The ability to predict and cope is too reliable. If I had been alone, I would have definitely been backed by Saint-Germain.
I'm not intelligent enough.
(10) The power alone is not enough.
But if we put them together, we'll have no enemies on our way.
St. Germain's measures to break his heart and turn him from a dangerous boss into a safe one just because he looks dangerous were successful. I don't feel like my heart is broken, but I listen to this one. I became obedient.
Next up is Paula Port's psychic awakening event.
Americans are famous for waking up to superpower with all sorts of kicks. A spider bit me or hit me with serum. Hardly a successful invention. Wow.
I did an awakening event to Paula, too, imitating such an impractical system precedent.
I don't do complications. On a heavy rainy day that has been shaking just fine, I smashed Paula's own window with pebbles, rolled in front of Paula's eyes as she slipped through her hips, crushed with a seven-colored flash, dusted and disappeared.
I don't know what the pebble was. All that matters is the fact that something strange has happened.
When this woke up to psychic powers, he said, "Oh, that's what happened then!" to be a flash and a flash of convincing. I knew I wanted to make the introduction smooth.
Well.
Four days after transplantation, a superpower protogroup settled on Paula.
I can use my psychic powers whenever I want, but I naturally don't notice Paula's power. Few Yabbas try to use their psychic powers frequently.
Paula's ability to wake up, but apparently quite a rare type in the feel of palpating the psychic protogroup. I'm pretty sure it's just a system that puts something in your body out of touch, but there's nothing that matches the data you accumulated when you surveyed 30,000 people for durable transplantation when you found Shigeki. It may be rarer than spatial ability.
Even this day Paula went to school, never opened her mouth, and lived a grey student life just two or three times with a grisly affectionate laugh, stopping by Uncle Benjamin's hospital before returning home.
Benjamin was in bed in the hospital room exposed to a remarkable correct and pathological appearance of lean bones and skin, but smiled softly at his niece's visit.
"Welcome to my castle, Paula"
"Benjamin's Castle Is Not Here"
Paula answered softly, pulling the chair closer and sat down. The cheap chair made a dangerous noise, but it didn't crumble. Take the fried butter wrap out of the bag and start eating.
I guess I'm zero on diet. I don't see the will to lose weight.
Without any particular blame, Benjamin pointed his jaw at the school bag, which had been slowly finished with his weakening grip and trembling hands over the past few days.
'I would have liked a bag. I made it. It's a luxury item, if you buy it at the store, you'll pay $10,000.
"No way."
'True. I'll wholesale it to the store for $10,000. "
Paula laughed small.
"Thank you. Make it next year."
'No, I'm already dead. Do something for yourself next year.'
"Shit. You're lying about Benjamin dying, right?
"True."
"I'm dying, I'm not dying. I am."
Paula looked suspiciously at a bag of drips stretched out of Benjamin's arm while eating a toy with fried butter.
He does speak so firmly that I don't think he has three days left. It's my uncle. Isn't it the time when people usually think they're already unconscious or in a coma?
However, as of four days ago, it was the doctor's view that had a week to live, and it could be around a few days. It could take time to recover from a miracle, or it could suddenly die of cardiac arrest in three seconds.
'Well, listen. It's my will. Listen, carve it in your heart.'
To Benjamin's ever serious voice, Paula also stuck her spine.
The man who couldn't be a hospital bed hero says, holding Paula's hand weakly and powerfully.
"Paula has the only power Paula has asleep. Take care of it. '
'Yeah…………?
"And when you get lost, follow your heart."
"What's that? Absolutely comic words."
Paula smiled at Benjamin's admonition.
That's it.
No, it's a common but really profound word, Paula.
When I was young, it was a word I would honestly accept. Well, if you get lost, you just have to follow your heart.
It's easy to start thinking about puberty. I think if a bad guy obeys his heart, he's an ompalate for murder and robbery crimes, and if he obeys his heart, he doesn't even get good grades, that's a good word.
When you grow up, you bite the weight of words. Sometimes I get confused by obligations, work, relationships, anxiety about the future, and all sorts of things that make me crazy and I don't know what to do. I think it's really important to look back at what I want to do and what I think, and follow my heart.
Used and commonly used words contain only the truth that deserves to be used and used indelibly in a temporary fashion.
Seriously, yes. Definitely. 'Cause if I hadn't followed my heart, I wouldn't have started the secret society plan. If it was anything, he would have died of overwork or committed suicide by now after losing his mind in a black company.
I fell asleep just saying what I wanted to say. I gently futon Benjamin and Paula left the hospital behind. Paula seemed to have something in mind as she leaned over and walked round her back, pulling the New York mess over to the edge of the road.
Back at home, Paula showed Aunt Maisie the bag her uncle Benjamin gave her before going up to her room, locked the door, and slammed the board and stared at the first aid repaired window.
After staring at the window, he now touches the floor around where the pebble that smashed the window jumped in on a rainy day just a few days ago, squeezing his touched hands together and squeaking.
"I'm the only Chicara..."
Oh!
Ancient wounds hurt!
When I was in middle school, I stared at my right hand on the roof of the school building and said, "Wake up..." In fact, I was really awake because I had a mind, and I thought it was healed. It was like they were choosing a wound!
But that's fine.
That's fine.
Trust in your own special power. You don't have to get lost.
Benjamin believed Paula. All you have to do is believe in yourself later.
If you don't have a basis to believe in yourself, I'll make it up.
I'll make it up and make it real.
If you don't have the strength, I'll give it to you.
I'm doing a secret society for that.
You're too sad to think you don't have the strength to believe in your own power.
Paula Port.
You have your own psychic powers!
Paula closed her eyes and remembered something.
Then vaguely fluffy things crept out of Paula's body and shaped her like a skin tone gnarly doll right next door.
He looked a lot like Paula. He's fat like Paula and he's about the same height as Paula. There are no eyes, nose, etc., and the whole thing is bogged down like seeping paint.
I look at it and intuitively understand what it is.
Out of the question.
Paula screamed like a pig as soon as the feet of the gnarly skin tone doll fluttered into contact with the floor. Peel off your white eyes and blow out the bubbles.
There's an amazing sound of a giant falling on the floor. I hear Aunt Maisie's worried voice from downstairs.
I'm worried too, but it was minor.
I can't believe this. Is this possible?
This guy!
This guy!!
I (,,,,,) materialized (,,,,) the psychic protogroup!!!