When Verlaine heard this overly feminine voice, he raised his eyebrows slightly, thinking of Beauvoir's supernatural powers, but he didn't say much in this regard.

As a guy whose cognition is slightly different from that of humans, he is not as sensitive to this as ordinary people.

Perhaps the beings created by humans as tools have this problem to some extent: looking at men and women is like looking at carbon-based creature type A and carbon-based creature type B, there is not much difference.

"What's going on with this string around you?"

Obviously, Verlaine's focus is more on the string of ghost dumplings floating everywhere: "Balloons?"

"Yes, it's a balloon. It's a special product for Halloween. You see, the special effect is very cool, right?"

Kitahara and Kaede raised their eyebrows and replied with a smile. At the same time, they calmly pulled the tail of the ghost dumplings in their hands, causing a series of ghost dumplings to chirp.

It sounded like a chorus of birds in a tree.

Verlaine looked at these chirping white dumplings with suspicion. If the look in his eyes was a little more concrete, it could be summarized as "Do you dare to say that these chirping things are called balloons?"

"Pfft, it's actually a ghost. It's a little ghost that hasn't turned into a human yet."

Kitahara and Kaede laughed softly, then leisurely let go of their hands, and watched them dragging one by one into the sky, just like real flying balloons and lanterns.

Verlaine raised his head and watched these non-human ghosts chirping happily, dragging a pure white light in the sky decorated with neon lights.

Even if you don’t understand the language of ghosts, you can still see the joy and joy in their chirping.

"How do you feel?" Kitahara and Kaede yawned again. Looking at these little guys running away, there was a bit of smile in their orange-gold eyes, "They're cute, aren't they?"

Verlaine was silent for a moment: "...It's quite stupid."

"Well, after all, it took a long time to soak in the water, so it's normal to look a little dazed." Kitahara and Feng nodded in agreement, jumped down from the railing lightly, and tilted their heads to look at Verlaine.

"What are you thinking about? This is a rare time when humans can see the undead. If you have someone you want to see, you can still take a look. Although you may not be able to find it."

"No, that's not necessary. I don't care about dead people."

Verlaine hesitated for a moment, then said in a positive tone.

The red dragon cub lying on his shoulder let out a low "Woo", pawed at the orchid in his mouth, curled up somewhat sadly, and covered his head with his broad wings.

To be precise, the place where the accident happened to the person he cared about was not in Paris, so he couldn't meet him at all, right?

Beihara and Feng looked at the lost little dragon, pursed their lower lips slightly, and reached out to pat each other on the shoulder.

"Forget it, let's have a good time on Halloween."

The woman who covered her whole body with a black cloak and hat sighed: "But are you really not going to go back and look for that person? After this festival."

Verlaine didn't speak. He just stared at the crowds of people flowing along the Seine River and the bright and flashing neon lights.

People who don’t know whether they are humans or ghosts are loudly singing pop songs from more than ten years ago on the street. Some people are giving out candy to the children running around on the street. People wearing all kinds of strange costumes are strutting down the street.

Go and talk and laugh with the people around you...

Those cold, bright blue eyes reflected the bustling and eroded reflection of the city, like a beautiful flower blooming on the bones.

"Halloween is a time when life and death meet."

Kitahara Kazuka's gentle voice sounded beside him: "People play ghosts and stare at death without knowing anything. Ghosts also play human beings and stare at life with envy."

The positions of life and death are reversed in this festival, and the identities of humans and non-humans are naturally exchanged on this special day. For hundreds of years, the living and the dead have maintained such a tacit understanding, spending time after time.

An October.

"Any non-human being can be human on this night. It is an accepted tradition of this holiday. You can join them...if you want to."

The traveler stretched out her finger and let a ray of light stop on her fingertips. Her orange-gold eyes were hidden under the broad hat, with a calmness that she already knew the answer given by the other party.

Her current posture looks like a third-rate fortune teller in a Western story.

"Why should I become a human being? And still rely on so-called tradition to become a human being for one night?"

Verlaine looked at the street scene for a while, then laughed sarcastically and answered matter-of-factly.

Even though this blond Nordic god has a child-like personality due to his experience, he is also paranoid and proud at his core.

"Well, I know, it's really not necessary."

Kitahara Kaede, whose proposal was rejected, blinked and shook his head slightly. He had no regrets, and there seemed to be a smile in his voice.

"Are you going to go to the cemetery where Mr. Alexander's mother is buried and have a look? About the ending of the meeting between mother and son."

The traveler spoke softly.

At this time, he and Verlaine, who was not very interested in crowds, bypassed the bustling crowds and were now walking under the shade of the lush trees on the street. The huge flower trees above Paris scattered their petals, carrying a rich and strong fragrance.

Verlaine's footsteps paused slightly.

"I suggest you go take a look. The Halloween gift I gave you is right there."

Beiyuan and Feng gathered up their cloaks, their orange-gold eyes that were shining like the afterglow of the sun were slightly curved, and their voices were as brisk as the dancing light on the water:

"Did you know? Human beings are actually very difficult to understand creatures. It is so difficult to understand that no one in this world can say that they can fully understand the human heart."

She stared at the half-full moon in the sky, smiling and looking like a magician.

"So, instead of speculating on people's hearts based on common sense, you might as well have some expectations: After all, this world has always been full of idiots who don't follow common sense, right?"

For example, Verlaine.

Another example is Rimbaud.

"Human beings are irrational creatures, right? Sometimes we don't even know what we're doing."

Beauvoir lowered her eyes, sat on the top of the high rooftop, took a sip of bitter tobacco with a somewhat teasing attitude, and said this.

She is now dressed like a witch, her clothes look very cool, and she is blowing in the wind on the roof of the building. Of course, she has not completely restored it. After all, in the Middle Ages, the characteristic of witches' clothing was probably that they had no clothes.

.

The surrounding ghosts surrounded her, making sharp cries and wailing sounds, as if they wanted the woman to feel the pain and resentment in their hearts, and their screams were filled with strong hostility.

No ghost was listening to her, they were all pouring out their pain.

"Okay, okay, I knew it would be like this. But I still can't help but want to say something to you, every year."

Beauvoir exhaled a puff of smoke and looked helplessly at these painful and struggling female souls.

Of course, the effect of her superpower is not just to change people's gender or block people's superpowers, but to bear all the insults and oppression suffered by women in history.

The oppression they received in the male society, the pain they experienced, the death and despair they felt, all became part of this superpower, retaliating against mankind with double hatred.

"A few days ago, when I used my superpower on a fool, he called me a vicious woman. Well, I don't understand what he meant by repeating the facts."

Miss Beauvoir sighed: "Why are you so excited? You look like you want to go through all the punishments in "Hammer of the Witches"."

The ghosts ignored her words and just kept screaming sadly - they were just shadows of resentment, and they even lost their complete reason.

Beauvoir was very used to this and just reached out and touched their heads one by one.

Behind her, the supernatural light that no one could see flowed into two exquisite and elegant European-style carved windows, with gorgeous purple false forsythia growing around them.

One of the doors was gently pushed open, and a pure black cat jumped out from inside, lying quietly on her shoulder, staring at the floating souls, and seemed to be sighing along with it.

Witch, black cat, and fake forsythia are probably the most suitable combination of witches for Halloween.

"Okay, let's all have fun on Halloween! When I get home, I'll make you a delicious pumpkin cream cake. Look, I'll eat it, how about it?"

Beauvoir rolled her eyes and smiled briskly: "Or do you prefer carrots? In fact, the carrot cake is quite cute... You can also eat half a roasted lamb."

“Of course, there’s also the essential Halloween candy.”

A remote street corner.

"Okay, okay, don't rush, everyone should be polite."

Miss Camus, who has not yet been reassigned by Beauvoir, tilted her head and looked at the ghosts who had emptied the candies in her pumpkin jar, with a smile in her bright silver eyes.

She finally managed to climb out of the hospital to celebrate Halloween. Well, although her body still hurt everywhere, it didn't affect her movements at all.

——It’s her custom to give out candy to these lonely and poor little ghosts on Halloween, and she can’t stop it this year.

The woman wearing a black cloak and a beak mask of a plague doctor narrowed her eyes happily and waved goodbye to these little guys who left with satisfaction:

"Happy Halloween! Welcome home! Welcome back to Paris!"

Her voice was blocked by the copper mask and had a deep metallic texture, making it sound more neutral.

"What you are doing is of no use. After they die, they can only enjoy this day's candy, and no one will care about what you are doing."

At this moment, a lazy voice that was deliberately lowered sounded, with a careless tone of voice.

A petite woman walked here without knowing when. She was wrapped in a large snow-white cloth, looking more like a pale ghost than the ghosts around her.

She sat down on the bench and glanced at Camus without interest: "Aren't you bored? Doing such meaningless things."

"I don't think so. Maybe no one cares, but at least there are ghosts who care." Camus turned back while holding the pumpkin jar, raised an eyebrow behind the mask, and said.

"Even if the existence of this meaning is short-lived and small, it still exists. Human beings just like to carve out a little bit of insignificant value in the meaningless void, don't they?"

Miss Sartre, who dressed herself as a ghost, raised her eyebrows in surprise. She didn't expect that she would meet such an interesting woman just after sneaking out of the hospital.

"This world is absurd and painful, and meaning will be swallowed up by this eternally absurd world. But even so, will you stick to this meaning?"

Sartre tilted his head and asked with interest.
To be continued...