Miss Planeswalker, are you free for romance?

Matilda and the magical girl...

Ah.

The man put on his nervous smile again, looked up at the monitor, and made silent lip movements with his brows squinting.

'Fxck…u.'

The arrogant attitude is obvious.

What he didn't notice was that the incandescent light in the interrogation room, which was on 24 hours a day, began to flicker; the camera signal was cut off without any warning; and in the long corridor, the high-intensity lighting equipment and recorders went out one by one...

With the sound of metal clattering and footsteps rustling on the sand, darkness descended step by step.

The flowing sand moved slowly like a snake. It climbed up the wall along the corner and went behind the police station's notice board. It bypassed the photo frames on the wall of glory photos and led the darkness all the way to the target location.

It flowed out from the locked keyhole and gathered into a small tower of yellow sand in the interrogation room.

Stanfield finally discovered something unusual: the interrogation room was completely dark.

In the dark, people's hearing becomes extremely sharp, and then, the sound of fine and dense quicksand came in continuously.

Falling to the ground, rustling and piling up...

He stretched his head out as far as he could, and with the faint reflection of the corridor, he could see the blurry thing in his sight clearly - it was a tower made of yellow sand. The living sand was mixed and squirming, and the dry sand was rubbing against each other.

Then, like boiling water or the surface of a lake, they gurgled, rose, and stretched, gradually gathering into human shapes.

As time goes by, the details of humans become clearer and clearer.

—A huge, loose dark yellow robe, a beardless, muscular man, ornaments with complicated pendants, and the clinking sound of those ornaments colliding with each other.

It became the only voice in the police station at this time.

The brown-skinned, beardless man was extremely tall, and the pair of eyes under his brows surveyed everything in the interrogation room sharply; he stretched out his palm from his long sleeves, pressed it to his chest, and bowed slightly to him.

He...spoke.

"Hello, is this Mr. Norman Stanfield?"

The voice was rich and powerful, just like his body. The beardless brown man took a step forward, with countless religious pendants hanging on his chest, similar to those worn by believers: the most conspicuous and the latest one was a silver ornament with a semi-arc pendant at the end.

It was a silvery moon.

The grit that had come in through the keyhole seemed to accumulate in Stanfield's throat.

"who are you?"

When faced with a sudden question, the first reaction is probably not to deny but to ask. This also saves the visitor a lot of unnecessary trouble, such as taking out photos and checking them one by one in the police station without any clue.

"I am Imhotep."

Faintly, there was a desolate and distant music coming from an unknown place. Bone or ivory carved clappers, leather sewn oar handles of lutes, flutes, harps...

The zigzag tones set off the sandstorms around the man. He stood in the center of the vortex, stretched out his hand, and the sand returned to his palm obediently.

The vortex was shrinking inwards, and from the beginning, the sound of sand rubbing against sand had been rustling in the room.

Stanfield rubbed his dry eyes, his expression ambiguous.

"You are the subordinate of that weird, magical girl." He was very sure. At first he thought he was hallucinating, but it turned out to be true... He saw the other side of the world in his lifetime. He was really lucky.

The voice composed of yellow sand was neither hot nor cold: "Yes, my lord - Sen Yuesha. The great witch, the queen of the forest monsters, the eternal silver moon -" He spread his strong arms, and the ancient breath quietly spread in the space.

He smiled, but there was no emotion in his eyes. The man looked down at the man who was trapped in the chair in a twisted way in front of the bulletproof glass: "Mr. Stanfield, you need to answer my question."

Arrogant and rude.

"How about turning me into a frog?" Stanfield bared his teeth, the flesh on his face trembling. "Who do you think you are talking to? I guess your master is also flesh and blood? You want to fool me? Use your little tricks?"

"Who am I talking to?"

Imhotep rolled up his robe and took a few steps forward, allowing the two people inside and outside the glass to see each other clearly.

Imhotep showed an extremely arrogant contempt, looking down quietly at the man with shackles on his hands and feet.

mortal.

"Okay, I hope it's not about where to buy the 'latest underwear'." Stanfield didn't care. To be honest, although he looked a bit like a desperado, at this point, it was already a world beyond his cognition.

"cough."

Imhotep took a deep breath, thinking about what Mori Yuesha had "asked" him to do, and he was still struggling in his heart - the man had been twisted since he received the task, and Ansuna's comfort was of no use, not to mention that the damn maid was gloating...

Ugh.

Imhotep pressed his abdomen, and the muscles in his neck were visibly exerted, showing blue veins.

He tensed all his muscles and let out a sound...neither male nor female, sharp and thin.

He seemed like a man who had lost something important.

"Do you have a big treasure? Big treasure! Tell me some big treasures! I'll ask Imhotep to let you die a little bit comfortably - just a little bit!" The man in the gorgeous sacrificial robe danced and winked like an old mentally retarded child... twisting and turning.

Probably so.

After saying that, Imhotep put down his hand, turned around with a serious face, and turned his back to the dazed Stanfield.

He covered his face with two big hands and rubbed it vigorously!

Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!

Mori Yuesa, how could you do this to me!

How could you treat your chief diplomat, high priest, Imhotep, who is always so pretentious, like this!

Before coming here, the witch said:

'You have to imitate my movements and voice, otherwise how can you be like me in person? Imhotep, in the foreseeable future, you will be my most important external social attendant. You have to be familiar with my way of speaking, my movements and expressions, including my accent, right? '

'It all started with imitation!'

"I'll give you the me from ten seconds ago!"

"Please bring me good news."

My witch is a mentally retarded person, and this mentally retarded person has begun to harm the people around him.

Nagini: You just found out?

Arrietty: You just found out?

Children in the orphanage: You just found out?

Ansuna: The plan works.

Not to mention the female warrior who showed no mercy when it came to playing with her lover, Stanfield was laughing so hard that he was out of breath.

Chapter 45 Miss Troublemaker

Imhotep stared at Stanfield who was laughing with an expressionless face and repeated it again.

Of course, this time it was a normal tone.

"Treasure?" Stanfield sneered. "U.S. dollars? You don't look that detached, do you? No problem, I have plenty of savings."

He flexed his fingers and flicked the chair.

"Find a way to rescue me. How about two hundred thousand dollars?"

"I'm not here to talk business with you."

"To me, this is business," Stanfield began. "It's business with wealthy businessmen, it's business with politicians and officials - the difference is what kind of business we are talking about. Now, it's my life."

He leaned forward, close to the glass: "Two hundred thousand dollars is enough for you to spend for a while. How about buying that girl some pretty dresses?" He winked exaggeratedly, and from a distance, he moved his nose as if he wanted to smell the scent of Imhotep.

He liked the smell of powder, but unfortunately there was only the smell of sweat and rust here.

Imhotep completely ignored Stanfield's rambling and continued to repeat the boring conversation.

"Treasure. My master only wants the treasure. Ten seconds."

"Damn it! I don't have any fairy tales! To hell with your treasure!"

"Eight seconds."

"Two hundred thousand dollars isn't enough? How about three hundred thousand?"

"Six seconds."

"Okay, okay, I'll give it all to you. Five hundred thousand. That's all I have."

"Four seconds."

"Fxck!! I don't believe your fairytale magic can break this bulletproof glass!! Damn it, when I get out, I will kill you one by one! Do you know who you have offended?!"

"Two seconds."

Stanfield stopped talking. He curled up and stared at Imhotep with a mocking look on his face.

Come on, show me some magic?

"Time's up." Imhotep relaxed his neck. "Fortunately you don't have any treasure. To be honest, I was really afraid that the master would go crazy and order me to go 'treasure hunting' again... This situation is great now."

He spread his arms, and the dark yellow priest robe with countless runes sewn on it also spread out like bat wings.

The long sleeves hung down to the waist, and a breeze suddenly blew into the room.

The chirping of some insects played in Stanfield's ears.

His eardrums were sore and swollen, and his eardrums were a little itchy.

A sharp cry.

Along Imhotun's boots, along the quicksand that began to sink under his feet, a blue-black "crawling fountain" suddenly spurted out!

Swarms of black beetles the size of half a palm!

"Go ahead, cutie."

Imhotep took one last look at Stanfield, then turned and walked towards the locked door. As he walked, his body gradually melted into soft gravel, which scattered on the brick floor and swam towards the keyhole.

How he came in, how he is going out now.

The only sounds in the interrogation room were a man's screams and the sound of chewing.

…………

……

“Just the skeleton.”

This is the final conclusion given by the forensic doctor.

Stanfield and his captured men - all of them, every one of them, turned into a dried corpse at the same time. Please note that the "dry" here is not the kind of dryness of trees - it is still more or less full of water or something else.

This is the true meaning of "dry".

That is, not a single drop of moisture or flesh was left. Apart from the bones, nothing else could be found on the body, including hair, internal organs, blood, and even... his fingernails had disappeared without a trace.

"It's like he was eaten by a skilled cannibal for two months." The forensic doctor was a young girl. She took a pen and wrote something on the board. Then she raised her head and said to Naomi Misora: "But according to what you and Boss Ned said, he just went out to smoke a cigarette?"

"Two at most."

The forensic girl was even more confused: "I don't understand what caused this result. Almost at the same time, almost the same cause of death... Come to think of it, this guy," she pointed at the bones left by Stanfield with the end of her pen: "Does this guy have a lot of things going on behind his back?"

That's true, but it doesn't matter now, after all, the person is dead.

"strangeness…"

"I want to see the surveillance."

"No." Ned strode over quickly. He was the first to go to the monitoring room: "No, Misora. Nothing."

"What do you mean by nothing?"

Ned pulled the surveillance police over and asked him to talk to Misora ​​Naomi himself.

"That's right, ma'am. We have been watching the surveillance camera the whole time. We absolutely, absolutely did not slack off. Even when buying lunch, we changed people—"

Naomi Misora ​​knew that the police officer who was watching the surveillance was trying to shirk responsibility. She interrupted and said, "Sorry, I just want to know why there is no surveillance record for that period."

"Well…it. It just didn't register."