Chapter 108 Countermeasures

The person outside the door is Giselle.

The female pastry chef was holding a bag of food and a newspaper. After seeing Jason open the door, her face was already red with cold, and she immediately showed a smile.

"Morning, Jason."

"Your breakfast."

"And newspapers."

The female pastry chef handed the food and newspaper to Jason.

Jason took it, took off his coat directly, and put it on the female pastry chef by covering his head. After the button was fastened, the female pastry chef only showed a pair of eyes and half of the nose, looking weird. .

However, the female pastry chef did not refuse.

She looked at Jason who was close at hand, and her face became more and more red. The whole person was so cowardly that she grabbed Jason's jacket tightly, wishing to cover her face.

Huh?

It doesn't look like it's Jason's coat.

The colors are similar, but the material is much better.

Immediately, the female pastry chef guessed something.

Anger and murderous intent rose again in my heart.

A voice told her to kill the other party.

However, it was suppressed by the female pastry chef.

In this regard, she only regarded it as normal jealousy.

Also, it's because of the lack of rest.

I should have waited for Jason here.

With such annoyance, the female pastry chef gave Hannibal a vicious look, and the latter responded with a smile, then turned around and took out a coat and put it on Jason.

"It's cold, wear mine."

Having said that, Hannibal smiled again at the female pastry chef.

The female pastry chef exploded with rage.

kill him!

kill him!

How dare you steal my man!

The voice in my heart roared again!

The female pastry chef was also infected by this boiling killing intent at first.

But when she shouted 'my man' from the bottom of her heart, the female pastry chef blushed again, standing there and starting to sway.

"What's wrong?"

Jason asked in surprise.

"No, it's fine."

"Where are you going, Jason?"

"Let's go together."

The shy female pastry chef shook her head again and again, unable to speak at all, and she immediately changed the subject.

Jason thought for a moment, and finally, nodded.

There is no other meaning, just for the food in his hands before and now, as a thank you, it is necessary for him to protect the safety of the female pastry chef.

With a wave at Griffin in the far corner, Jason led the female pastry chef to the stagecoach by the roadside.

The food in his hand made him temporarily slow down the idea of ​​​​walking around Xindecheng.

After all, eating in the wind is bad for your stomach.

As for breakfast already eaten?

Well, ate.

But from the dining table to the door, it has been digested.

Snapped!

"drive!"

The coachman flicked the reins, and the carriage slowly started.

After Griffin watched the public carriage go away, he walked straight towards the 'Hannibal Clinic'. At this time, Hannibal did not return to the room, but also watched the carriage that Jason and the female pastry chef ride away.

Seeing Griffin approaching, Hannibal showed a polite smile, but his footsteps did not move.

He wasn't used to anyone other than Jason entering his room.

Patients are the exception.

But also confined to the living room.

The Griffin in front of him is an acquaintance, but definitely not to the level of Jason.

After all, there is only one Jason.

And the guy in front of him?

There are countless on the street.

"Can we talk?"

Griffin lowered his voice.

"1 hour 7 yuan, more than 45 minutes, the second hour."

Hannibal said with a smile.

Griffin blinked, slightly unresponsive.

"I mean talk."

Griffin emphasized.

"Yes, let's talk."

"1 hour 7 yuan, more than 45 minutes, the second hour."

"I'm a psychiatrist, and this is the public price."

Hannibal didn't change his smile.

Griffin's breathing began to quicken, and he wanted to punch this smiling face, but thinking of what was in his heart, he finally held back, gritted his teeth, and said, "Okay, let's talk for 5 minutes first. "

With that, Griffin pushed Hannibal away and walked into the room.

but……

Not squeezed.

Hannibal's strong figure stood motionless, on the contrary, Griffin staggered backwards from the collision.

Facing Griffin's surprised and puzzled look, Hannibal continued to smile.

"At least an hour from now."

said the psychiatrist.

"One hour?!"

"You profiteer!"

"I...wait, an hour is an hour!"

Griffin couldn't hold back any longer and shouted loudly, but when he saw that Hannibal was about to close the door, he immediately softened.

Hannibal stretched his hand through the crack of the door.

"What's the meaning?"

Griffin was taken aback.

"Pay first."

Hannibal said.

"You don't believe me, are you worried that I will default on my debt?"

Griffin roared loudly as if he had suffered great humiliation.

"Yes."

Hannibal nodded.

"you!"

Griffin wanted to say something more, but Hannibal was ready to close the door again.

This forced Griffin to take out the last of the money from his socks and hand it to Hannibal.

Hannibal didn't answer, he frowned and moved out of the way.

"Put your money in the water bowl at the door."

Hannibal said so.

"It just came out of a sock, it didn't go through the plague!"

Griffin looked at the water bowl on the cabinet by the door. There were still several coins in it. It was a good memory. It reminded him of the way the 'Fishbone Street' shop handled coins during the plague period: placing a water bowl filled with water. bowls on the counter.

It is believed that this can effectively expel the plague.

Griffin didn't know if it would work or not.

However, the number of people who died in his memory did not decrease much.

Likewise, the money in the bowl is often lost.

"A truth."

Hannibal said calmly.

Griffin did not argue any further.

He threw the money into the bowl, and then, at Hannibal's gesture, sat in the chair in the hall.

Hannibal glanced at the clock hanging on the side, clearly recorded the time, and said, "It's time to start."

"Are you safe here?"

"I mean more specific attacks."

Griffin raised his right hand and slid his five fingers back and forth, as if he was gesturing an octopus.

"Safer than most places in New Delhi."

Hannibal said with certainty.

This isn't a lie, it's true.

His house has been specially remodeled, and it has considerable resistance to various attacks, including... the 'mysterious side'.

call!

After Hannibal said this, Griffin let out a long breath.

He seemed to be completely relaxed at this moment.

The whole person slumped in the reclining chair, and obvious fatigue appeared on his face.

"I felt like something was following me, he or she or it, and I couldn't tell what it was, anyway, this thing has been sucking my memory."

"I feel like I've forgotten a lot."

"However, my memory is not biased."

"I still remember the jar I buried in my Fishbone Street home when I was six years old."

"But I just can't remember, I forgot what."

"Do you understand how I feel?"

Griffin spoke incoherently.

"Many people have symptoms like yours."

"Can you be more specific?"

Hannibal has all the qualities that a qualified psychiatrist should have. He doesn't sneer or show any disbelief. On the contrary, he records it in detail.

"Be specific?"

"Probably after meeting Jason and Jichel."

"Before, everything was normal."

"But since I acted as a lobbyist, everything has become abnormal."

Griffin pondered for a while, and then answered like this.

Next, Griffin described the process in detail.

Hannibal recorded it in detail.

Neither of the two people who were involved noticed that the door that should have been closed suddenly opened.

The female pastry chef appeared at the door.

She walked in slowly.

He stared blankly at the two of them.

The coldness in his eyes, as if looking at two corpses.

She raised her hand.

The thick black fog emerged again, filling the entire room.

The handwriting on the notebook in Hannibal's hand quickly disappeared and turned into other records, but the handwriting was exactly the same.

The memories of the two also disappeared together, replaced by other memories.

The female pastry chef who had done all this turned around and left.

Squeak.

The door is closed.

Hannibal and Griffin seemed to wake up from their sleep.

"You said your memory has declined recently?"

"I think it's anxiety and insomnia."

Hannibal turned over his handwriting as usual, making his final conclusion.

"yes?"

"I guess it's those damned guys."

"'Ghost Squad' is really annoying."

Griffin sat up, muttering.

Then, Griffin went straight out.

Hannibal sent Griffin to the door.

As he always did with his patients, they waved goodbye.

However, when Hannibal closed the door and inadvertently swept the clock on the wall, the whole person was stunned.

Then, he turned and walked to the water bowl on the cabinet in the corridor, looking at the coins in it.

wrong!

wrong!

something wrong!

Hannibal picked up the note just now again, and he carefully checked every word.

Indeed he wrote it.

Then, he flipped to the next page.

Pen marks through the paper appeared there.

He just glanced at it and thought of something.

Without any hesitation, he rushed into the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror and said in a murmured voice, "You didn't find anything! You didn't find anything! You didn't find anything!"

"When you snap your fingers, you forget what you just discovered."

"When Jason says it was delicious, you remember the discovery."

Snapped!

He snapped his fingers, and Hannibal, who was standing in front of the mirror, was stunned and returned to normal.

"I don't know if Jason will come back at noon."

"What are you preparing for lunch?"

Hannibal turned and walked out of the bathroom.

He didn't notice that behind him, in the mirror, as he turned, the shadow of the female pastry chef flickered on it.

"what!"

On the carriage, the female pastry chef suddenly let out a painful cry.

"What's wrong?"

Jason, who was flipping through the newspaper, turned his head to look.

"I don't know, just now my head suddenly felt like a needle stick."

"It hurts."

"I guess I haven't rested yet."

The female pastry chef smiled reluctantly.

Jason frowned, thinking about whether to arrange for the female pastry chef to rest, the carriage that had been traveling at a constant speed suddenly stopped.

Boom, boom, boom!

"Is it Your Excellency Jason?"

There was a knock on the carriage door, followed by a polite greeting.

Jason answered bluntly:

"no."