Play with Mad Scientists!

Chapter 1635: 1635 3


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Tired met for the first time that day in real life with three people: Silvia, Sa Chest and Apricot.

I'm a resident of the back street, and I mean a sketch-off party where paintings only attract hobbyists, and they all bring painting materials. The meeting point was the garden of the Silver Storm Hall main house where Sylvia lived.

"You surprise me. I didn't know you were tired like this."

"Yeah...... It's not a drawstring image."

Sa Chest and Apricot stare seriously at the tired face. Tired didn't know what the three of them looked like, neither did Sa Chest and Apricot know how tired they looked. Sylvia had never met with tiredness before, but she knew her appearance itself.

(I honestly thought you were Peter Pan Syndrome's old man)

It was my sad chest that I was rather glad that my terrible predictions were off.

"Aren't you surprised by the evil side of your chest?

"Oh, that's what you say."

Sa Chest smiles bitterly at Sylvia, who grins wildly and slightly.

"No...... Ideal and appealing… Gorotsky face."

"Seriously, even if they say it like that..."

Hearing tired words, can I mourn or laugh bitterly, Sa Chest having trouble reacting.

"I used to see a lot of faces like that... because I saw them. Get used to it..."

"Ooh... What kind of environment were you in?"

It was tiring not to mention that there were many vicious faces on the fellow wild samurai of the Warring States.

"Then I, can I draw a tired one?

Sa Chest confirms. As a matter of fact, even if you don't look at the other person's face, you can draw a sketch of the person. Because at first sight I just take the other person's face into my brain and never forget it.

"Then... I'll draw the face of your chest..." Very well painted face...... "

"Ooh... Right..."

Looking at the tiredness of smiling, Sa Chest feels complicated.

"Draw me tired too"

Apricots said they specialize in landscape and still life paintings and don't draw many other people's likenesses.

"Then I'll be tired too. Apricots are boring because I don't always take off my sunglasses. Sa, the bad side of the chest is fun, but I figured I'd draw a beautiful face once in a while."

"Sylvia, how lame are you..."

"I'm sorry you're not beautiful. At last, because you're a bad guy, you shouldn't be a bad guy."

The four of us draw sketches while we bicker. This atmosphere makes me feel comfortable and tired. I'm glad I got the courage to come.

"Are you a bad guy?

Regardless of the face, Tired didn't seem like a bad guy because he had big breasts.

"I hate to say it, but I'm a bottom dick on the back street. Unlike these two. Without a common hobby like painting, you wouldn't be in a position to have two of these masterpieces mouth each other equally."

Sa Chest, who mocks herself plenty and says with a sad face.

"I'm nothing but a masterpiece..."

Apricots sniffle.

"Hey, stop that kind of neg dialogue neg thinking. You're on. You're doing what you need. Be proud."

Sylvia speaks powerfully.

"So will Sylvia trade me for my job?

"I won't. It's the right material."

Sylvia laughed at Sa Chest when she asked.

"Tired's a backstreet thing, isn't it?

Apricots ask with pure interest. Whether you pull it off or not, there is as much backstreet work as is possible over the net.

"He's a great sorcerer. It's famous for paranormal relationships. So much so that they even say he's the closest to God."

"Are you serious..."

Hearing Sylvia's words, Sa Chest sees tiredness with a half-hearted look. If it was about magicians, I knew apricots.

"I don't have the power I once had."

I'm not being modest, tired seriously thinks so. I've been pulling off for twenty-five years, and I haven't trained in the meantime. I didn't even fight once.

"Like Sylvia, isn't your actual age the same as your appearance?

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"Yes."

To the apricot question, tiredness nods uncomfortably.

"Hey, stop asking him that question. I'm a woman of my real age."

Silvia sitting still laughing.

"I'm tired because maybe I don't like that question."

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry."

Sylvia tells me and the apricot apologizes.

"No... that's not true. Take care...... thank you. I'm not worried about being treated like a monster and hating you...... I am not. I... trust the residents of the back streets... for the most part."

"Oh well."

"I see."

Hearing tired words, the apricots and the breasts were convinced. What the residents of the back street generally have in common is that they are not prejudiced or discriminated against by people with special circumstances. I always make necative remarks in front of apricots and sylvia, knowing that.

"I can draw one."

"What, that's fast. And very good..."

Sa Tired of seeing the breast painting.

"Besides, he remembers the details of his opponent's face just at first glance without having to look, because he can even draw..."

"It's strange that you're not in charge because of that great talent."

Though I was tired of agreeing with Apricot and Sylvia's words in my heart...

"I'm telling you I've got a lot going on, too."

Hearing that vague dialogue of Sa Chest, which once again makes me sad on the tannic side, I received tiredness, wondering if he, like himself, could not live cleverly.

A huge subspace at the Ming Shi Shrine. There is a growing sight there similar to that of the shrine. I can see the small shrine landscape, but it's distorted everywhere, and it's growing. There are several overlapping shrines, birdhouses supermassive, curved and rolled like bridges, and dogs supermassive and floating multiple times over the invisible sky at the bottom.

The subspace itself is transformed into a small alien realm. And in this small and vast world, they built dwellings and lived.

Much of the dwelling is built deep in the subspace in case the enemy attacks. Some people live in quaint houses on straw roofs, some just copied the shrine itself, some luxury apartments, and some Western castles. It projects what the inhabitants prefer.

This space itself is also a substitute made of their special abilities, but what is in it also temporarily embodies the image and uses it for life.

In the building that copied the prayer hall, those who copied Tomorrow Hour Busuke enter with one woman.

The size of the exterior of the shrine is not different from that of the shrine, but there again the space is twisted and the size of the interior is different. Dozens of tatami halls. And in the back is a Japanese compromise: a bed with a canopy and lace curtains.

A man and a woman turn off their shoes and walk on the tatami. I didn't take it off. Turned it off at the same time as it went up on the tatami.

Two men and women lay on one knee and one hand on the floor toward a luxurious bed with a ceiling, hanging their heads down.

"Cenri, Silco, how's the tail?

A girl's voice echoes from inside the curtains of the race closing the bed.

"As you can see, I made contact with Byusuke tomorrow morning."

Answered by Cenri, the one who turned into a lowlife.

"The defeat of Decaying Rope is complete. Until you're ready, it seems you won't be attacking me. Can I attack you from here, if you don't mind?

Mid-twenties and a woman in a suit - Silko reports and asks.

"Decaying rope intervention is unexpected. This space is a castle for crocodiles. You can't afford to deal with them until you get out of the castle. You can welcome me when you attack."

"Got it. As the king says."

According to the girl's judgment, Silko may be.

"O king. Those who are on reconnaissance have captured Shizuno Rei's location. We went into the main residence of Silver Storm Hall, and after that, we couldn't get close."

"That's another hassle. Let the reconnaissance itself continue. It's what I've been pulling, and it's finally coming out."

"I understand. All for our future kingdom."

"All for our future kingdom."

Cenri and Circo say the same words and leave the room.

"A kingdom..."

The girl who is left mouths the pompous and the word.

"Hopefully, the foxes, who were experiencing resentment and anger, will have a false hope - a vain dream."

Groaning in a nihil tone, the girl exhaled loudly and meditated.

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