Mr. Dark quickly returned to his private room, and everything around him was tidied up like the crew was disbanding.

The bed curtain crawled back to the ridge and turned into stone sculptures. The bone throne stretched creakingly and was divided into the skeletons of sheep, dogs and deer. The soul flame was rekindled in the eye holes, although the gloomy feeling did not slow down much.

The assembled crowd took off their black robes and entered their rooms like a colony of ants returning to their nest.

The scene changed back to the real literary club atmosphere.

"What do you think? Son of the Holy Light?" The teasing words appeared behind the ear. The gentleman in a formal dress was carefully folding his black robe. Obviously, he was also a part of that performance.

"Shocked and unspeakably ashamed."

The gentleman stretched out one hand to hold his mask and covered his face, "You only experienced it once."

"Should I be satisfied? Why put on such a shameful show."

"Because it's necessary. Mr. Dark, he actually has a bit...well...that kind of unrealistic thinking mode that can't distinguish the real world."

It's a chuunibyou.

"Moreover, his inflated self-perception will affect his combat effectiveness. We have to help maintain his high-end combat effectiveness to deal with Raymond who comes to communicate with him at any time."

"Come on, I'll take you to meet some friends. Maybe you will interact with them often in the future."

In this way, he was taken into a side door.

Behind the door is a typical reading room. The decoration style is similar to that of the Cup of Luxury. There is a large round table in the center and bookshelves on both sides. Two figures turned their heads because of Lyle's arrival.

A man is wrapped up like a super chaotic fashion gentleman, with a deer antler crown on his head, an unknown animal skin on his top, a grass skirt tied tightly around his waist, and white velvet tights that were just popular a while ago on his legs.

Parts from different eras are put together, just like an advertisement inserted in the middle of the video is forced into your eyeballs with brute force and invades your field of vision. You can understand two points. First, the span of the evolutionary history of human clothing is huge. Second,

, the extent of human brain damage in the late stages is huge.

The other one is not much better. Buried among the manuscripts, it is a Greek-style silk robe. A thin layer is draped on the body. Logically speaking, the rest of the skin exposed to nature will have a look similar to immersed in an oil painting.

It has a long history and blends into the harmony of nature. However, it is mechanical. The remaining parts, the exposed mechanical limbs, and the cubic metal head with a strong sci-fi style that is not known as a brain or a hood on the neck, are nostalgic.

When it collides with the future style, a kind of humor and toothache emerges that transcends the times. For specific feelings, you can refer to the words Namo Gatling Bodhisattva and the omniscient and omnipotent nuclear bomb God.

"You may not recognize it, but this is Mr. Reporter." The gentleman pointed at the deer-headed man.

"This is..."

"Willim Huairang." The mechanical scholar intercepted.

"We like to call him Mr. Paranoia. As for why, you will know later."

The reporter stood up and held onto the antlers that began to sway due to inertia. He held Lyle's arm and spoke sincerely.

"Mr. Epidemic Doctor, last time due to special reasons, we didn't have a long talk. The regret last time was exchanged for this opportunity. The goddess of fate really treated me well."

Lyle looked at the antler crown that began to sway as the reporter waved his hand. The sharp long horn was about to pierce his head.

He leaned back slightly and said, "I'm glad to see you again, Mr. Reporter."

"Hey, if you have the chance, be sure to visit my place. You can tell from one glance that the epidemic doctor is a very sincere buyer."

"Huh? Is Mr. Reporter a businessman?"

"I sell something special."

"Um."

"With me, you can trade, secretly."

"secret?"

"Yes," Mr. Reporter rubbed his hands vigorously, "the secrets that are private, unknown, buried deep in my heart, subvert the normal image, and never revealed to others, thinking about these disguised things being revealed in front of me

Open, it’s as exciting as the goddess in my dream lifting her skirt to me.”

"But, since it's a secret that you don't want to know, why would you trade it?" Obviously that can't be done.

"Because, everyone actually has the guilty pleasure of spying on others. They want to keep secrets, but they also want to know other people's secrets, and the price is naturally their own secrets. My rule is, I will never

I will disclose the secrets I know to the public, which is the first safety insurance for them; I will independently decide the secrets you get according to the secrets you tell, which is the second safety insurance; third, I will not give you any more

No one’s name may be included in the secret, but I will do some inducement.”

"This is an interesting game, although it is a bit dangerous, but it is attractive enough that people will always be immersed in the fun of digging."

"But, since you can't choose the secrets you want to know, how can others be willing to tell their secrets?"

The reporter made a whooing sound, like a crow crows at dusk. He pointed at himself, and his words were like a laid net.

"Because the secrets I tell always satisfy them."

Like a gloomy old man with a gloomy mind, hiding in a dark corner and doing shameless things.

However, if you can get a secret that is helpful to you, but the price is that your secret is only known to unimportant people, you will definitely be moved.

But there is another problem, and that is credibility. People will deposit money in banks because banks have the ability to ensure the existence of money. But what does the reporter rely on? His own ethics must not be able to convince those people.

"My talent is called the Secret Contractor. I can gain power by knowing the secrets. This power will affect all aspects of my life, including luck, property and abilities. I am a secret natural exchange, and my talent also restricts

Me, those rules are part of my talent, and besides that, I can also tell truth from lies."

"What if you break the rules?"

"I will not break. There are no ifs. Talent is given by God. He can give it and take it back. The price is not what we can bear."

In other words, the reporter will enforce those rules and will not mention the secrets he keeps to anyone unless the trading rules are established.

"Mr. Reporter, it's actually hard for you. After all, it's the pain of having a secret but not being able to tell it."

“Would you ever stop making money because your hands hurt when you count money?”

Makes sense.

"Mr. Reporter, can I trade now?" Lyle was a little interested.

"Of course." The reporter also rubbed his hands with a smile.

"Don't you have to find a secret place?"

"No need, when you have the idea of ​​confiding your secret to me, the secret contract has already started, and only the two of us will know the content of the conversation."

"oh oh."

Lyle thought about what secrets he would have.

"Actually, my wish is to make a lot of money."

"Oh, I see."

"Well, what then?"

"There is no more."

"Didn't I say that you should also tell me a secret?"

The reporter took a step back. Lyle felt that the secretive atmosphere had disappeared, and he heard the voices around him again.

The secret contract is over? Where are the things? Where is my secret?

"Mr. Epidemic Doctor, a secret is only considered a secret if you know it. If you choose to be frank, it is no longer a secret. By the way, even if it is a secret, if I already know the content, the secret contract will not be established."
Chapter completed!