Qingchi Lianyang saw himself looking back at 'Mr. Police', he stared at those dim eyes for a long time, then turned back, put down his pen and got up.

    'Mr. Police' complied with the change and dissipated, and there was no one behind 'Qingchi Lianyang'.

    This dream...is this a dream?

    In the dark, there seemed to be a voice telling Qingchi Lianyang that this was not a dream.

    Untie knots, kill enemies, and have powerful abilities that no one can match. This is the future of Renyang Aoike who does not travel through the world and meet Osamu Dazai. Or rather, the past that has already happened.

    This is his lost memory.

    really interesting.

    Qingchi Lianyang thought, when he recalled his own memory, he even borrowed someone else's perspective.

    'Qingchi Lianyang' had nothing in his eyes, and his tone was cold.

    "I'm going out for a walk."

    "You have to be careful."

    "..."

    'Qingchi Lianyang' didn't answer, kept silent, passed the man directly, and walked out.

    At the same time, the man turned his head and watched the white-haired youth leave.

    Intuitively, Qingchi Lianyang wanted to follow him, but the person he 'possessed' stood still, so naturally he couldn't do so.

    Fortunately, a few seconds later, the man chuckled as if mocking himself.

    "That's right, why do we need to pay attention to safety now? All the sins are gone."

    After finishing speaking, he walked towards the desk.

    The table is next to the window, which makes people inevitably see the scene outside the window when they walk past.

    The windows were shattered, all the glass fell off, half of the window frame was missing, corpses were strewn across the ground, ruined walls were everywhere, and black smoke was billowing from the cars on the side of the road, as if it looked like the end of the world.

    Qingchi Lianyang frowned.

    He knows this place. Judging from the building on the side, this is the office of the Armed Detective Agency, the fourth floor of the red brick building.

    The owner of the body was familiar with this scene, and looked directly at the table without looking away.

    Qingchi Lianyang was also forced to change his perspective.

    There was a stack of blank manuscript paper on the desk, the top one was scratched and written, and only a dozen or so characters could barely be read.

    "Over the years...cross-world journey...possible world...parallel...wormhole travel"

    Compared with these dirty words, a line of words written in black pen on the table is quite clean and beautiful.

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