Wine and Gun

What kind of books would someone like Slade prefer?

Herstal hardly ever mentioned what the Slade in Kentucky was like back then, but Albarino had seen him smile at his disrespectful frivolity at the last party. , apparently sexually harassing the waiter was just a joke to him, a kind of vulgar pleasure from insulting others.

In this way, Albarino sincerely hopes that the power-on password of that computer is not "Playboy" or more overly erotic titles, although after thinking about it, it is obvious that Slade is not incapable of this kind of thing. .

Albarino looked carefully at the entire bookshelf, and finally his eyes stopped on one of the books, which looked older, looked a lot older, and had less dust on the spine.

—"Justina," by the Marquis de Sade, is really interesting.

"Prosperity is always accompanied by sin..."

Albarino murmured, reaching out and sweeping across the spine of the book, his fingertips touched the line of letters on the spine, and the touch of dust was rough and light under his hands.

"The more corrupted and depraved, the more people can live the so-called happy life."

He gave a vague smile.

It's more like the kind of story Stryder would have liked, infused with an imagery that wasn't actually humorous, and he himself would laugh deep down at the dull joke. Albarino curled his lips, he really had no opinion on Marquis Sade, but still felt that Slade's starting point was not elegant.

But now is not the time to be dissatisfied with the taste of others, Albarino withdrew his hand and went back to the desk again. This time, he put his finger on the keyboard, trying to type the string of letters on the computer.

"J-U-S-T-I-N-E".

In all fairness, Albarino is not sure that his answer is completely correct. He has a high possibility of guessing wrong, but fortunately, Slade's computer technology is obviously not superb enough to set a wrong password. It's as far as formatting the computer's program, so even if he's wrong, there's room to try again.

Albarino stopped his hand and stared at the string of letters on the computer screen, then the corner of his mouth picked up inexplicably, and tapped the Enter key briskly.

The screen flashed.

Fortunately, the computer desktop jumped out in front of him the next second.

Albarino let out a long sigh of relief and leaned heavily on the chair. But now he has no time to celebrate his good luck, he must find what he needs in this computer.

Herstal subconsciously dodged to the side, grabbed his wrist, which was clearly holding some kind of metal weapon as he jumped over, and slammed him against the wall before being able to look at everything in the room—this It is a room with beige wallpaper, the floor lamp is on, and there is a soft double room in the room. As long as you don't want what happened to the double room, the decoration here looks more comfortable than the blue corridor outside.

But the thought of what was going on in this room sent a numb shudder through Herstal's spine.

And now he was controlling the teenager who was trying to jump up and stab him. The other party was glaring at him, baring his teeth threateningly, but he couldn't stop his wrist from trembling nervously under Herstal's palm.

Apparently, it was the boy named Midalun who tried to attack him. Midalun was wearing a light white shirt and a pair of simple black trousers. One end of an iron chain was tied to his thin ankle. The other end extends towards the shop, probably tied to the head post.

The boy looked taller and thinner than in the photo, so thin that he could see the distinct ribs under his shirt. He had a fierce expression on his face, his light brown eyes were wide like clear glass beads, and his blond hair was really curly.

When a boy reaches this age, his secondary sexual characteristics have begun to develop, and he has stepped awkwardly on the threshold between child and youth. It was at this moment that Herstal suddenly understood why this child had not been selected by the distinguished guests of Sequoia Manor before. According to the label on the roster, he had been here for at least three months.

Because he didn't look so much like a "little boy" anymore, the epiphany sent a familiar nausea in Herstal's chest that he had to take a deep breath to swallow. The young man in front of him did harm to his concentration. Although Midalun's hand was firmly imprisoned on the wall by him, he was still twisting with his teeth and claws, and he even tried to lift his foot to kick him.

The boy also held a crooked, dirty fork in his hand, the same thing he had just tried to stab Herstal with. The honor of this fork made Herstal suspect that the child used the fork for other activities before: for example, using it to dig tunnels under the chuáng to escape from prison.

"Perverted! Let me go!" The boy scolded in a shrill voice of a drake that was characteristic of the voice-changing period, wriggling like a loach under Herstal's control, "Damn bastard!"

Herstal frowned at the other with an indescribable expression: "...where did you learn the word 'faggot'?"

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