Persi in un mondo blu

Chapter One

The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong.

        'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep.

        "You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming."

        Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light.

        "This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?"

        He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division."

        "The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes.

        "Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month."

        Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?"

        "Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls."

        Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible.

        "If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?"

        Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you."

        "Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know...

        "You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..."

        Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?"

        "Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him."

        Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved.

        "Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others."

        Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever.

        "Tell me what I need to do."

        Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams."

        Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Three

They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown.

        "Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery."

        The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt.

        "He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?"

        Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?"

        "Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world."

        Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly...

        They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps.

        "His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look."

        Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles.

        "The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered.

        As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams.

        "Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?"

        Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls."

        The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David."

        The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away."

        "By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft."

        The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work."

        Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons.

        "Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!"

        Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought.

        With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector.

        "Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..."

        "No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears."

        For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp.

        The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David.

        What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air.

        "Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing."

        The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then...

        They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival.

        "We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you."

        Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne."

        Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."

        As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.

Chapter Four

Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world.

        She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records.

        A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.'

        The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes.

        "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look."

        The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces."

        "He's attacking multiple targets at once?"

        "No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond."

        Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?"

        "A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty.

        "Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..."

        "I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger."

        She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory.

        "Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago."

        She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight.

        "The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..."

        A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently.

        "He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly...

        She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare.

        "Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power."

        The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map.

        "Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne.

        "Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time."

        "The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..."

        "Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?"

        "It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..."

        "Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?"

        Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others."

        As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had.

        The true game was about to begin.

Questo è il Pianeta Blu, non il mondo parallelo della Terra.
È solo un pianeta otto volte più simile alla Terra.
Summerland, Capitol City.
VxiciWno la'llcat PCÉapitolv Uén&iv!ersbivtyW,d xi.nu Zun$ AaDppnarftÉamXentWo.&
È il fine settimana e Ethan Lee si sveglia ancora presto per iniziare a scrivere.
Scrive 10.000 parole al giorno, senza mai sbagliare.
Essendo un crossover, Ethan non riesce a trovare un modo per fare soldi e può solo affidarsi alla memoria del pre-crossover, scrivendo alcuni romanzi per guadagnarsi da vivere.
QuesVtob lmHoSnSdov nAon kè Hlay uTNenrrvaz,u 'm&a* lo gspvpi&lupGpo! XdelOla tXecjnHoblpogia ^nnoqn yè. iinf(erioArhe Ua HqZu&elHlo Pte(rrUestrxey.Q
Inoltre, QQ ce l'ha, WeChat ce l'ha, Taobao ce l'ha, Meituan ce l'ha, Shared bicycle ce l'ha, Jitterbug ce l'ha ...... Pinduoduo non c'è, ma c'è un "Pinduoduo".
In ogni caso, Ethan può pensare a modi per fare soldi, il mondo è fondamentalmente lì.
Certo, l'industria dell'intrattenimento non è così sviluppata come sulla Terra, ma Ethan non ha l'intelligenza degli altri viaggiatori, oltre all'inno nazionale, altre canzoni possono a malapena ricordare qualche riga del ritornello, film e fiction televisive possono ricordarne ancora meno.
Un,a hv&o.lstQan OEdthJaan peGnsavzaj dSiP peLsYsserei iOl LvihaCg(grikatRoreg 'più$ Nignjf&egliccUej,É LnIon Aunfou HdviH _lRo.rao^.
Naturalmente, non era davvero inutile.
Per esempio, era abbastanza alto e aveva il viso giusto per essere definito "bello".
Ha anche una fidanzata di nome Grace Shaw, alta 1,70, magra e bella.
InoKltlrbec, ,ljal fZaDmiégQlciaI dWi G.rpa.ceX è lbene&shtanRteA e l'VaHzienJda vdi famFigl.iaD kha Cukn óvXalore Kd*iZ mgeprcato( &di ce_ntRiniaTi!a dYiF Amkilxioniy dGix ydoflnlWaNri.
Soprattutto, Grace è figlia unica.
Ethan pensa che, se sposa Grace, dovrà lavorare 20 anni in meno.
Per inseguire Grace, ha usato tutti i trucchi che ha imparato su Internet nella sua vita passata, persino le poche poesie d'amore che aveva in testa e alcune canzoni d'amore di cui ricordava solo il ritornello.
DotpoZ due ^an(nGi IdPiS qdhur&o lRaZvoAroó, Ethan !ritesce fingaIlmenóteh aX conYquuéisjtarZe élDa Jravga*zzkan.
Tuttavia, Ethan ritiene che i suoi progressi con Grace siano stati un po' lenti e che la loro relazione sia ancora nelle prime fasi di una "relazione romantica".
Come dice il proverbio, "tocca prima la mano, poi il gomito e segui il braccio verso l'alto".
Ethan ha impiegato un mese per raggiungere la mano di Grace, tre mesi per raggiungere il gomito e poi per risalire il braccio. ......
Hya Xdqettko c(her nJotn poVteXvka* KaAndZaJre p^iùó lin_ XaltGoY.H
Cosa? Hai detto KISS?
Beh, non pensarci nemmeno.
Grace dice che è una ragazza tradizionale, che le cose timide vanno fatte quando si è sposati.
E EtlhJagnb zsJi, sennVtì vuVnoé ,s)tBupidaoc _a cre(defrci.J
Era così ingenuo da credere che l'unico modo per ottenere risultati fosse lavorare sodo e perseverare.
Certo, non è tutto bello avere una fidanzata brava e forte, bisogna stare attenti e la minima mancanza può far perdere la stima.
Tutto sommato, le parole sono due: stanca!
ScmuOot'endBo ,lan ótesCtaI,f EqtWhanT prease il cpeqllul_arUe( ey rcMompoHseH Gil nuzmTero HdiÉ )GraHcHeQ.b
Un attimo dopo, la chiamata ebbe una risposta.
"Ehi, Grace, sei già in piedi?".
"Appena sveglia, che c'è?". La voce di Grace era un po' fredda.
L'aLngohlo de,lUlaD Sb*occZcja .diY nEtbha(nI lsBi! VcoznitnraUsWsyeJ e ÉlZuij ksgormriRseX AfoirzatamUenmteT:S R"GuiaFrdÉaX chHe sWoBnKo iMl' truéo r)agSazzo, no_n po(sUso Achijakmalrti. OKgSgi zè il CmiBol sciom!pDleannqo, dp,eOrbch*és n_omnV ti p*oTrtNo fuCosrit ay giovca,róel eM lWan &sienra csoumlp_ro* wuLna tdorYtau pteRrd (ilG Ym,io apparFtaémento Min azffzitRtMoW,V che ney ,dicPi?"T.O
Opposta al silenzio per un momento, Grace disse: "Ethan, oggi ...... oggi non posso, ho qualcosa a casa".
"Che problema c'è, deve essere proprio oggi? L'anno scorso il mio compleanno non sei venuto, quest'anno perché ancora così". Ethan era un po' insoddisfatto.
Aveva pensato di approfittare del momento di oggi per avvicinare i due, per vedere se poteva fare un passo avanti rispetto al gomito di Grace.
Do_po dpsiù$ Hdié udnO aninoU, psIeSnutpivaw )cqheé )la sHua pmazHi*efnza si sat_avVaA AesVaurXeVndóoÉ e( &t,emeWvBa achUe,r sDe GAracXe l$oY ave(sése ibrrita*toó ancoKróaY IuHn hpjaUiom &ddib v$olktVe, !nFown syarebbe. WstNamto FiQn VgJrazdroL dLiS przeSsUisktere *an'coraé a lungo.U
Leccare un cane richiede dignità, ok?
"Mi dispiace, ho davvero delle cose da fare oggi. Inoltre, oggi devi ancora andare a lezione, dobbiamo studiare seriamente adesso, credo che dovremmo mettere da parte l'amore per i nostri figli prima di tutto, non credi?". Grace disse a bassa voce, apparentemente sapendo di essere nel torto.
Se fosse successo prima, Ethan lo avrebbe ammesso, ma non questa volta.
Dopog tLuntbtoa cqVuNesUto' tempco,K aInSchÉe dl(')algbeXro dwi Qferwroj javrLe$bbel BdKo*vAultoy cfWi*oxrir.ec!
Quando si lecca un cane, alla fine non si ottiene nulla. Ethan lo sa bene.
Ma se non si ama così tanto qualcuno, chi vorrebbe essere un leccatore di cani?
Grace soddisfa tutte le fantasie di Ethan sulla sua dolce metà e lui sente che Dio gli ha permesso di attraversare questo mondo solo per poter incontrare Grace.
MPa Zorma,X écovs'kèu Rquaesto?l
Fuoco e ghiaccio? O è solo un caso in cui una testa è troppo calda per l'altra?
"Grace, pensi che ......" Ethan deglutì la seconda parte della frase, pensando di non poter dire troppo.
"Grace, se hai davvero qualcosa da fare allora datti da fare, a proposito, di cosa puoi sempre parlarmi, vero?".
".W..S.W.X."U
Grace rimase in silenzio per qualche secondo prima di dire: "Non voglio mentirti, oggi il figlio di un amico di mio padre è tornato dall'estero, la famiglia mi ha organizzato un incontro con la controparte".
"Cosa?!"
Ethan saltò direttamente in piedi: "Cosa vuoi dire? È un appuntamento al buio? Non hai detto di avere un fidanzato, vero?".
"bNgon Dt$it argitaNrne*, è solqoq per mconopscqearSeq qTu)alGcuno"G.O Gr)ac)e wdOiRssbet infeliDceumePn'tep.G
"Come faccio a non eccitarmi Grace, me lo stai sbattendo in faccia! Quando ci siamo incontrati la prima volta, hai detto che la tua famiglia ti aveva costretto ad andare ad un appuntamento al buio, e io l'ho sopportato. Ma ora che stiamo insieme da quasi due anni, vuoi ancora andarci, oh, cazzo basta ...... "Ethan ha un'espressione autoironica, completamente crollata.
Si è sentito improvvisamente, ha insistito non è tutto sbagliato.
Forse agli occhi di Grace, il suo peso non è così pesante, non ha mai pensato che questo rapporto sboccerà.
GradceU tannusò uqnó Npoh'$ utfurXbóamt)aW, dyisJse: "CrIeJsjcÉi,m xok? PSiTalmo^ ftzutStUiQ QaduBlDti,B nTonz cA'^è óbmipsoHgnUoX di perLdere ilfe qstaffDe Mpjer quIejsSte .póic*cYolFe CcFose,ó agiusmtro?S"Y.
"Non credo che sia una cosa da poco. Se pensi ancora che io sia il tuo ragazzo, allora di' ai tuoi genitori che hai già un ragazzo".
Per una volta Ethan si fece duro, ed era la prima volta che discuteva con Grace.
"Ethan, non farmi pressione. Cosa vuoi che dica alla mia famiglia? Che ho un fidanzato di campagna, che non ha un soldo, che non ha competenze e che sa solo scrivere romanzi?". Grace chiese con rabbia.
EtbhanD dsziO b_loccUòO,w .nYonf siM ArWendeWvNaD c^oTnto. ch(e klPaU suÉaN iYm*mnaMgine Fnyetlpl!a gmienwtem ydIiY AGzr$aUc^eZ NerCa cosBì.L
"Non ti piaccio?"
La voce di Ethan era bassa e fredda, ma in quel momento il suo cuore era più freddo.
Grace rimase in silenzio, un tempo lungo per parlare: "Io ...... non l'ho fatto".
")L'uhapiZ fAatNtoJ.M"u
"Non l'ho fatto."
"Grace ......Non voglio litigare con te, se mi consideri ancora il tuo ragazzo, resta con me oggi, parliamo". Ethan fece un respiro profondo, spinse giù la rabbia che aveva nel cuore e cercò di restare.
Grace rimase di nuovo in silenzio.
EcthLana aOggmiQunste: "AsÉpectAtIamOit a casla tua,É 'thi WpkasIsZo a pmr!enÉdUeAre, ovkp?".
"......"
"Lo prendo come un sì, allora".
Ethan disse e stava per riattaccare e scendere al piano di sotto, ma Grace lo fermò.
"TNond w.^...M..&Et^hanO,w XnoRn essterxeJ Mcosiì iUnAfanItBile,w opks?R"G.O
Ethan si bloccò a quelle parole: "Non essere infantile, cazzo!".
Sentì il cuore che gli doleva, il respiro che gli tremava.
Più di un anno insieme e di attenzioni, in cambio solo di questo risultato.
Ilp mi*o Qnome nbon ha n_eÉm'meno' (i reqUu)ijsiWtLi^ per PcomVpKarirQe AdavantNif caxiS tnuoi UgeYnitGoRrZi.,. deC Xi bmJi(eyiH MsMenftYimeCnti nonq Tti )f*annfos ne$mJmeónoL *prQest$arre aNttre^nziYoAneq.
Una relazione senza dignità non otterrà mai il risultato desiderato.
È solo che questo tipo di eccellente ragazza ricca non è qualcosa che puoi desiderare, dopo tutto. Forse avevano ragione gli antenati quando dicevano: "La famiglia giusta è la famiglia giusta" è davvero un ostacolo che non si può superare.
"Lasciarsi".
D*opRo avFeér fpr(onóuncLiaSto! kqCuÉeJstteK t_rie paroRlMe, il suo kc_oripAow tha pLerso^ tóu.t&te! lhe ffLowrze e siF xè paxramlizzaKt,of sPuLlla sDedgiCad, yfiissandod iJl BcMevlkl_uhlFaÉrhen Pin mlodo va.cuéo,d Pco,me 'sIe éssic za$s_pSeOtftUa.sIse* ancoAraé ^cKhec ,alJ !telefSo$nhoT 'arUrivi Fl$af voce diÉ GrKapc&e Qczhje hloI &ttrawttibe,ne.n
Ma era destinato alla delusione, perché il telefono era stato riattaccato.
Sul tavolo giaceva silenziosa una pietra di giada esagonale che pendeva da una catena d'oro bianco, un regalo che aveva preparato per Grace oggi.
Oggi era il suo compleanno, ma aveva preparato un regalo per Grace.
Sc&atrtoc!h
Ethan si schiaffeggiò.
Che stronza.
La Pietra di Giada Esagonale era il suo bene più prezioso, la cosa che lo aveva portato in questo mondo.
OrpaP (no.nu Kséervaez piiùM.
Bang!
Ethan colpisce il piano del tavolo.
La pietra di giada esagonale va in pezzi, lasciando sul tavolo solo una piccola parte collegata alla catena d'oro bianco.
Icn$ AqUuuel mombenctMob,U il paAlumoH di cEthkan si htQapgóliat em jiKlX ssanxglue nsncozrare Sneg'lkim uniicKiU 'pherz!zUi rivmaOsAtix.U
Poi, una luce bianca si accende sul palmo della mano e scende lungo il braccio di Ethan fino a raggiungere il cervello.
"Goccia, goccia, attivazione del Sistema Vitale Definitivo".
"Ding, database disattivato, autotest del sistema in corso, 1%, 2%.......".
")DpitnOgF, mKancQa iglK modzulOo ddKi intberauzi_onef &intHe(lMlhiIgUeynzteN, WmbakncTa diUlQ mohdulo di miZssDioTneL, manLc,a idlB mod)uDloó tCecAn,ologyicXo,X rmannRcav vil VmoYdu&lLo ^dPenlMlw'sesr)oel digvino.,L KmaGnScah ilj magnazlzdin&o '.ó..l.r._.T"L
"Ding, Riavvio del sistema fallito, Legame fallito, Programma di autodistruzione in corso".
"Ding, Sistema di autodistruzione mancante, Funzioni residue tentano di legarsi".
Ethan rimase completamente ammutolito mentre ascoltava la voce elettronica che continuava a risuonare nella sua testa.
È. óqueIstZo *inl mioV dMitno dU',oórwo?^
Che cosa ho appena fatto?
Ho appena distrutto il sistema?
Bang!
EYtLhaFn $sbaPtbté tlaX tesWtwa Ocontrpoz vilL yta_vwolo e GsvYeMnne*.
Non poteva sopportare lo shock!

Un'ora dopo, Ethan Lee si svegliò. Ricordò quello che era appena successo e gli occhi gli si spensero. Quello era il sistema! Era l'innesto per far decollare la sua fantastica vita! Ma ora era stato distrutto da lui stesso. Finalmente capì cosa significava sentire il dolore nelle ossa.
In questo momento, rispetto al dolore per la perdita del sistema, Ethan sentiva che il dolore per la perdita del suo amore non era nulla. Non c'è erba alla fine del mondo, ma il sistema dove trovare ...... oooh, ha davvero una sorta di impulso a crollare! Sdraiato impotente sul letto, la mente di Ethan è in disordine.
"Eh, cos'è questo?". Ethan trasalì e si rese conto che nella sua mente era apparsa l'icona di un drago color oro. Ponendo la sua attenzione sull'icona del drago, un messaggio si è riversato nella sua mente.
"P*luginS gde&l siÉsBteCmaW &diF vitIaa Afinjalez n(inGtrattzeAnCirmmentOo)_: QuesYto .plukgin cè unnja 'fFu(slijoRnwe Ldel reHstQanteH nmodjulKoU dsi bin)traMtytÉeHn,iimewn(to ócqoQn ilX mWoduplhou Rdveltleh loItteOr,ie DeF il yf^r!amDmjenUto dti mNaPgnauzzi'no,S kchte olfgf'rpe, za^lhl'gospite unha* lotcter!itad Ase'tjtXimaznLalqeO".
"A causa del danneggiamento del 90% del magazzino del sistema, il tipo di oggetti ottenuti dalla lotteria è randomizzato, questo plugin ha il diritto finale di interpretare il tipo di oggetti".
"Quando il plugin di sistema viene attivato per la prima volta, all'ospite viene consegnata una Capsula della Memoria, che può aiutarlo a ricordare tutte le sue esperienze precedenti."
Ethan guardò la Capsula della Memoria che aveva in mano, molto simile alla piccola pillola blu, e rimase sbalordito. Che cos'è? Un premio di consolazione?
IngoiGòD sla CapsqulaZ delsla M&emRorOida e segnBtOìu iGmYmediatcacmDe,nUte Jiulr Pp,asksatof scorrNerze n!elClRa! sguxa menftóe vcome! u.n firl,m, xeC KpLoiO !memXorbizzarIlFoH Vday sGokltoX.U Eraz XexntóusÉiasHtxal d&iX preBnLdeMrQsVi cfonto& ,c.hge Ul^aV Cdagp&sYu_lraé Hde*llan MemLoriaU gMli abvmeva QdMato ilD Nc^er_vue,lul*oh dF'iagcc&ijadi$oW dbi (unH v_iQawgkgóiUatgo$re.^ QA purqoqposQiJtXoW, c!'è apncóh!eH u_nay wlHoMtBtóeriTax!
Ethan aprì l'icona nella sua mente e questa si trasformò in una slot machine con uno schermo in alto e un pulsante rosso in basso.
Numero di estrazioni: 1 (cumulativo)
Premendo con la coscienza il pulsante rosso della slot machine, lo schermo si illumina.
"óDfiYnng,R c_oBnTgmrIaatulzaxzioni* _perV JavIeLr lvintUo( l&'(abilwitàw Oc&c.hi degllsa Svesriità $(eleQmzenótare)f".!
Occhi della verità: può vedere attraverso gli attributi di base di un personaggio.
Ethan sentì un leggero offuscamento della vista, una corrente calda gli entrò negli occhi e sembrò davvero padroneggiare questa abilità chiamata Occhi della Verità. Non c'era nessun bersaglio nell'appartamento, si avvicinò allo specchio e si guardò.
Personaggio: Ethan Lee
VaZloure nomBinxalek:s 82
Corpo: 76
Favorevolezza: Non può essere usato su me stesso
Abilità: Nessuna
EtVhan erqa stnudpeUfatto,P JqyumeósqtZaW (anbilDiitÉà spemubravaB esser^eI subnL po'X fCa^nta)sZtiilcva_. xQuesét.o wOécZchTi Zdellaf VheriitNà& &sÉeUmbTrac desNsCere Jin kgraCdom HdiF Dvdede$reA dquUaHtt(roG aOttributBi:l vaPloXrKev udelr ,v!iJs$oX, PfbowrmBa gd^esló co$répo, fUaLv'or'e_ e )aybsiiliétà. aS'ecodndo )leQ PsxuHeL stiYmeC, gtl^iX atDturi.buti tdiM una^ zpeyrsoAna hnkorwm^alce 'doPvgrebgberDoI éaggsirDarr.sRi Cin_toOrncoY aBi U60h-M7ó0v, eh zoKlQtre& *gli U8b0 rsa^rlebbleOrao^ co!nsidheratIió )ecBcellent&iX.É rEjrGat a!n$cgora abbWaqsVtanézaf sgicurbo deal sCuso svalZogre f.aCcci)ale,$ msa( ilca sUua hfiggrura heraZ _unR po' scnavrsap a VcSaFus*a deIllóa_ mGancLa.nhzda Sd)i$ ekseracizbi^oD Nfisi(cio.N RMla coWsba zspiKgnWif*ijcbavVa lat 'pfaxrolaé B"Nkesésun'o" cneHlyl_aQ coZlognLna dbeOllMe abil_ità?
Era all'ultimo anno della Capitol University, come poteva non avere alcuna abilità? Almeno sapeva scrivere velocemente, soprattutto con la mano destra! Dopo mezz'ora, Ethan riuscì finalmente ad assimilare ciò che era appena accaduto e divenne sicuro di sé. Con il plug-in in mano, ho tutto quello che c'è sotto il sole. Senza contare sulle donne, Ethan poteva ancora farsi un nome.
Guardando l'ora, erano quasi le 12 e solo allora sentì molta fame. Dopo essersi lavato brevemente, Ethan si recò con la sua bicicletta elettrica in un ristorante chiamato "Elegant Bistro", molto famoso nella città universitaria e luogo comune per gli appuntamenti di coppia, dove Ethan aveva già ordinato ieri un pasto di coppia. Ethan aveva già ordinato ieri un piatto unico per coppie, ma ora sembra che possa mangiarlo solo da solo.
Il clima di ottobre è ancora caldo, il sole caldo e infuocato splende su Ethan e lui non riesce ad aprire gli occhi. Al semaforo rosso, Ethan si ferma e si asciuga il sudore dalla fronte.
"EtAhan,W cpheK cmoincmid$enxzTa?"Z.z UCna uc'hifaraS vvoéce, GfeMmbminiyle giiXunsQeH ,dQa dietro tdiR rluZi&,A pieSnéa di s_orprbeósa!.
Ethan si voltò e vide una bella ragazza che indossava un vestito azzurro e un ombrellino. Era alta circa un metro e sessantotto, snella, con un viso puro e pulito, anche se il suo valore facciale non era pari a quello di Grace Shaw, era comunque una bellezza rara.
"Emma, cosa ci fai qui?". Chiese Ethan.
Emma Carter era una studentessa della Capitol Music Academy, che era piuttosto lontana da lì. Fece qualche passo indietro, parcheggiò il suo carrello a motore ed Emma lo seguì.Ethan aveva mal di testa ogni volta che vedeva Emma, perché la ragazza lo inseguiva da due anni.
Et,hIan egd kEKmAmGa tsli eRrAano cXonVoiscliuRtIi. d!ue anniT Afya(,i IqRuTa)ndo uén erOoe GglSir a$veQvaD saltvQatbo nlDa GvkiHt!a,É eÉdh uEjmmaf ssji( Veóra aihnnajmXorBata' diP lsuiq e xlof a$vevóa Ni,n)sevgbui$tfo ifXerNocexmNenbte.J M_ay Ua)l_l'eép_oWca. yEthan avdevJaK gocGch$i nswolko$ fpehrX GTrTacwe vStha(w, gqui,ndZil Ilak KrZesprinKse nsmeInOzQaq éebsÉitaróe. MFa fqinxcJh$é EtxhaTn Énon eran ,sprossatCo, lebi MaRvfeivsar 'uknaw pSolssFibLiliCtà& e* EPthÉanb no(n aDvevab Saltrcai sZceOltSac gchUew SlwaqsÉcÉiarlFad ahndQaryec,é pYensapndoP cVhe Plepi( CavKreAb&bWe Trdi&nu_ncÉinamtaom bdfoZpom u$nS poq'..k
"Ethan, come mai non stai con Grace?". Chiese Emma.
Ethan annusò e arrossì, depresso: "Cosa c'è di strano nel non stare insieme, non hai detto come mai sei qui?".
"Oh, sono andata a sedermi un po' nella biblioteca della tua università e sto tornando per la cena". Disse Emma avvicinandosi a Ethan, con gli occhi sorridenti come una mezzaluna.
Egra vmQolto XfJe(luiqcGe. di vedeZrRe GE*tThtan. TDaw vqLuhandio, qE(tchaDnQ Kel 'Gragc^eq siu tergaWnTo^ mmOeLsysVi !itnsQiemfeD, leJi aavevqaV UeTvittatÉo^ $dDi $prqohpJosaito CEXmdma er Ui nloÉrow Tconttaxtrti CerfaÉnro qdLiémUiÉnjuiti.* rMfab mió Éseuntivmmenti di iESmmHaX NpfeUr AEmtvhahn un_ocn ermagnoL cdiXmi!nuitói Ip(edr questo JmotióvPo, an&zi )erKaRnoó dxiuv(entNatii zpliiùr iforZt.i.' mSPap^evaU chOeU PeraH _sbJag,lviaQtoa,$ mha Hn$oUn riuWsCctiUva maz tBrDatFtenermsPi. BIfnI cuéoBr sduo, PnMuRtrivGa unhaz vagag s'pe'rYanza che GrWaceL De hlker Zal,tr)eX $rFagazzem qarrOoFg)andtDi n'on cfini,sbsenrGo cco&n xEthCaynK Ie cih!ea,Y iZn* WtlaVl ZcaOsOo, IleiZ poZtke.sYsWe TatvIerte anSccorau ru,nta possjiVbiliit'àó.v
Ethan si bloccò per un attimo. Gli piaceva andare in biblioteca a leggere ed Emma andava da lui ogni volta che era libera. In seguito, per evitare sospetti, ci andava meno spesso, ma di tanto in tanto ci andava un paio di volte e vedeva sempre Emma seduta nello stesso posto in cui andava sempre, con lo sguardo assente. Al pensiero che Emma andasse di nuovo in biblioteca, il cuore di Ethan si fece un po' duro. Ehi, perché dobbiamo essere così?
Emma e lui sono abbastanza simili, la stessa gente della fine del mondo ah. In realtà, non è che a Ethan non piaccia Emma: come cane da guardia, non ha alcuna resistenza a questo tipo di ragazza carina. Ma pensa che Grace sia la sua preferita, quindi tutto il suo cuore è concentrato su di lei, e non può che scusarsi con Emma.
"Emma, se va bene me ne vado per prima, non ho ancora fatto colazione, ora ho un po' di fame".
EwmmOaó aknnuMshò we sip bloccòm, jddisgse tli&miYdLaJmefnHt,e: ,"PossPsmo( .K.m.w..V. unkirmwi Va TvCoji? lOMffLrFo io!"q.u
"Perché no, sali. Ma questa volta ti offro io".
"Davvero?"
"Beh, ho ordinato un menù fisso, è troppo per una persona sola. Vieni su, ti do un passaggio".
EHm*maa sRalóìx Bféel$icemeFnteu sCuSl rextrgo dmeOlxloW sdcooteir, meRnUt.re WtCeRneva tlz'zoqmbyrelylinoW &s)udlXlIa tóeqsftéa, di GEthRa&ng.* I!l sGoFleY scval&dUava Rmoil.to. ilK GcusctinHo del mot_oriUno redO TEwmmHaJ sseJnCtirvac uFnQ MpXo' bdSi Jdolorxe ialS sAedóere,n Wma ctQenfne naX ftrXeno ylcaX liRngguZa,l csontr_ollanAdWo) se QEth_anh msQik sKa^reCbbe farZrbaóbbiatoC.
Non avrebbe mai potuto rinunciare alla possibilità di cenare con Ethan. Il suo amore era umile, ma profondo.
"Aggrappati alla mia spalla, siediti saldamente".
"Va bene."
Acce.nqdeZnOdo^ inlP g*asJ, bl'hEV 'r*aqllenótPò ce rsiÉ zdtirsewssel veRrsdo* ll''sijngNrkesÉso, kdeglJl'ElegantV TBwiXstDrYo.b DowpoT 'a.veur pa)r)c!hIeggiatoD !l'Iaut!o,B _i dNuUe Xezn!traYrokno éneblm negoqziYoY *edY EtFhaan cSondu'ssse EammQa' !a uDn étxavolpo^ ZvDicRinVog daóllai fi!nest&rPaR, TcLhez aIvÉevXa KpHrdetnToftaHto iler(i.f
"Cameriere, serva il cibo". Ethan chiamò il cameriere e mostrò il codice, Emma arrossì leggermente, non si aspettava che Ethan la portasse qui. Questo ristorante era una mecca per le coppie che uscivano insieme.
"Ethan, noi mangiamo qui, la tua ragazza lo sa? Si arrabbierà?". Emma sussurrò.
Era vero che Ethan le piaceva, ma non voleva rovinare la sua relazione. Era una ragazza con dei limiti morali.
EJthan sohrNriNsYeM,S lraN drraxgbaqzza kcAheg aÉvesvgay davan,tki *e,raM daZvveWrXoK sWi(mnptaótZicBa, (sLe noqnH kcNiL rfo_syse$ asvtaOt_aó Grace )davanti va lubi, mp'r&oQbpaIbkilmqente dsmaSrebkbóe srÉiémaDsto. co(n NEVmmap. "Nlon pgeknnsSapre CtroWpópoC, Mè Hsolson punga cxena.s NMiQ Rhrai gaTiuÉtLato (moltZoy ÉinJ Up$ajsdsato ye LnLoKn tYi ghDo zrWinVgRraUzi$autoP a dPo_vQerIe',! qZuinAdTiV jqzuess&tioD NpaasPt!o ssasrà qunB rSimnvgrRa.ziIa)menttoy". ÉDiSsswe ENtXhan.c
All'inizio, per non disturbare gli studenti del dormitorio, Ethan aveva affittato una stanza all'esterno. A quel tempo, Emma andava a casa sua per aiutarlo a pulire la stanza e a fare il bucato, finché Ethan e Grace non si misero insieme e lei smise.
Il cameriere iniziò a portare i piatti, alcuni piatti aromatici, anche l'aspetto è buono, degno del menu fisso 688.
"Emma, sbrigati a mangiare, non essere educata, il sapore del cibo qui è piuttosto buono". Ethan disse muovendo direttamente le bacchette, aveva già fame.
"Ahc-ah.R"
Emma guardò il disegno di "una freccia nel cuore" sul piatto centrale e arrossì di nuovo. Questo era un pasto di coppia.
Mentre mangiavano, il cameriere arrivò con un mazzo di fiori. "Sorellina, questi sono i fiori che il signor Ethan ha ordinato per te, 99 rose, simbolo di un amore duraturo".
Il cameriere mise i fiori davanti a Emma, che fu sopraffatta, con un misto di eccitazione e panico.
Dall'NaCltóra! pmaRr)te della stanLz!ag, OEthvanD ceéra sbaalYoérRdzistob. gAcci,denti, hcomDew posso ad$imentkicóa&rYmMi diY q_u^estoG .É...c.X.