Golden Dreams in Montrose

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.

River Kwai Properties bought a prime location in the city center and built exquisite condominiums!
Nowadays in Montrose, property prices are soaring, and the reception at the sales office is as crazy as Somali pirates. Those pirates are armed and robbing, and even if they're not good, they're good. But the sales staff treats customers with a charming smile, and behind the three towering buildings, men are mobbed as soon as they enter the door.
No, they have to be polite, and if the first to ask a question, the one who can get the customer, and win the commission.
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Mr. Holloway slowed down for a moment, he had trouble distinguishing the gender, he just nodded his head.
"Mr. Holloway, my name is Anna Green, Anna of Montrose," she said, extending her long, delicate hand to Dr. Steven Holloway, and without waiting for him to return the gesture, she took his hand at his belt with a twinkle in her eye.
The atmosphere around the silence, several saleswomen who did not receive customers whispered about Mr. Holloway's excellent posture and extraordinary temperament. Guihe real estate this time to launch a single suite and double duplex two types of residence, according to such an atmosphere, could he be single? If so ......
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The red light of the camera outside the sales hall went out, the man in the camera, simply handsome breathtaking ......
"Emily Hawkes, you've been following me all day, that's enough!" A girl jumped out of the flower bed, grabbing her waist and scolding Emily, who was taking pictures of the man, but had only glanced at him at the breakfast place, and really only glanced at him, and then dragged Olivia, who was on a date to go shopping, to follow her for so long.
"It's a rare opportunity to meet such a handsome elitist guy, I have to take a good shot." Emily sighed, realizing that she had to take a good shot of him. Emily sighed, deep in her heart, she realized that if she didn't take enough pictures of such a beautiful man, she wouldn't have a second chance.
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"Close-up? You're so close you can even see his nose hairs, why isn't that enough?" Olivia shook her head helplessly, but she had never seen Emily being so obsessive, as if she was shameless.
"We won't be able to see her again, so we have to record it." The way Emily became one with the flowers and plants, Olivia smiled helplessly, it was rare for this little friend to have the patience to do one thing.
Except, of course, for the four years she spent in college with a certain boy who was the best of the best.
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"Both of you ladies ......," she had just opened her mouth, and Olivia was not happy about it.
"Miss? You're cursing! That's all the more reason we won't come in to see your room." Olivia glanced at Emily who was hiding behind the sales lady.
The people in the sales department were used to seeing these tycoons, so they weren't afraid of them. "Pretty girls, you've been taking pictures of Mr. Holloway for a long time, haven't you? Mr. Holloway asked you to wait a little bit, he will talk to you later when he comes out."
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Olivia pulled a slightly dumbfounded Emily around and was about to leave.
The salesgirl didn't comply, and followed her closely. "Then we'll leave our phone numbers and call him if we need anything."
Olivia had a bright idea.
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Emily lowered her head and looked at Olivia, her heart tightened, this is bad! It's bad luck to be detained for taking a picture of a handsome man! I should have known better than to indulge in beauty!
In the last half-minute, Emily thought of her mother, the city's most famous lawwoman, asking her why she didn't follow the straight and narrow, and felt powerless.
"Don't you have a temporary ID, give it to them!" Olivia whispered.
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Two graduate students who should have enrolled at the city's prestigious Central City Law University last year, this moment is more fulfilling than any sport they've experienced in their four years of college. Their hearts are pounding now, and every step is filled with excitement.
Emily glances at Olivia, who is moving away, and shouts out breathlessly, "Liv, the temporary ID card may not be legally valid, but it has my name, my personality, and my home address! And my beauty!"
"I'll be damned! That's beauty? I'd say you're 'flowerless' at best!" Olivia slapped Emily, trying to cover up the embarrassment of running wildly down the street. "If I were to buy a house in River Kwai in the future, I definitely wouldn't look for that one!"
"rRÉiTgFht! )SKhre,'Ks thKe' toxne wh$o tZokok usW iinL,w askop rlet'ks jusUt_ turCn aérBoutn.d anPd cleua(vveP untiOl s.hek'Msx CsorSry she didQn'tQ ktn'ow Kwhat shve ZwYas look!inwg Rfogr, ajnd theDnH sHhzow ymouur khquZsbandq dwhen hFe rsRwijpées rhisM cha&rdé!u" DEmZilqyr bwabbbleQd .ausd shBeX ma!d'e Hhe'r LwZaSy Ldo!wnYtHowkn.
"My husband?" Olivia pushes Emily, who's gotten into the act too much, to the side. "Emmy, don't curse me here!"
Emily looked up to the sky and sighed, Oh God, please give these two beautiful old girls like flowers a teenager!

Emily Hawkes' mom always said that her daughter finally looked like a normal college student compared to Olivia Mason, who was also a cadet at Central City Law University, but Olivia spent her days studying perverted courses like criminal psychology, eating noodles and watching Final Destination in order to prepare for her annual final exams. Emily and Olivia are both students at Central City Law University, but Olivia spends her days studying perverted courses like criminal psychology, eating instant noodles, and watching Final Destination to prepare for her yearly final exam.
Emily wasn't so lucky. She grew up as a scrub, and when she moved from elementary school to middle school, she was at the bottom of her class and met Olivia, who was at the top of her class. By the time she got to middle school, she and Olivia were the last two guaranteed entrants into the best high school. As for college, she affectionately called Olivia crazy because she had set her course for life by simply saying "wake up".
"Olivia, what would I do without you." Emily sometimes lamented.
ONlHivAia, iHn IfVaYcQté, ÉiYsW .a dlVo)vasbJlne tlbuÉnxatic.
She pushed open the door of Caesar's Coffee House, and the aroma of rich coffee hit her, making Emily inhale deeply. Although she wasn't interested in drinking coffee, she was fascinated by the aroma and craftsmanship of the brew, and Olivia particularly liked the coffee house, which was understatedly luxurious and bourgeois, and the dudes who patronized it were basically all high-quality.
Emily also loves the coffee house because the desserts and fries are so good, and the owner's pasta is simply outstanding!
Olivia was sitting under a white bookshelf, looking gorgeous with her waist-length curls, arguing with the owner about whether a certain coffee bean was from Scotland or France. She's a high-end lunatic!
EDmivlAyL'sX 'lrucUk' Oisg xn,otM YsNoR Ugoosd,, ÉaSsP tXhWe rhouósIe HpZhfogne DkWeeps rinmggingN,^ ófrom iMrrqs.f IHbahwWkCeTsV uto nMr. HaAw)kFe,su,& wnithhZ co$ubnjtlwesss dmissedB caWlDlDs.x )FFi&nzaVlPlLyl OlCiviaw rmedle'nt'e.dY, (topohk outH JheTr' cÉeqlól PpWhsoLnpeP tantd sGaHiqdZ, u"uAnbsjwetr* éi!tP oHr don'tp janswejr i_ty, thXe apholnAe! i(s there, anxd YsQoL iés xliVfe.^"i Oli'viCaT pMlatcSedS xthe jph*onJeé bnKeahtmly beXtwleenn dt_he twHoV, "EómiGly,' jin awll UthFewske Yy*eaTrs LI'Évwe& nZeSver aasXked for aanuytghMiVngó, éaRndu htóhpiKs VtimeM,& VI) HwaWnt ktzoX ge*tX inn atp Alphfa Cci*ty' XLadw )UniverÉsiity.".
Emily sat across from her, looking into her sparkling eyes through the warm yellow light of the coffeehouse, revealing hope for the future.
Olivia had always been the decision maker, but she had never asked Emily for anything, and this was the first time.
In the end, Emily gave in.
"DadP, iijf Cyoui sdtill Yw,antQ myC cejlml pxhonGe ut,o Obex deHa$dZ voUr ct_urnPeqdó ohf^fO,x t*heYnV goy Pahe*aDdM yandf cJaTll."A EmÉilty p!ickejdé up ,th!ep prhounBed,( hper heVarAt sofjtAening., aafTtXeQrz ailJl, ^jumypiCng poUut qofi t)hel wpiPn'dowH izn! VtyheH mRoCrJnin!gp ZtDo eRscaRpueF hKa&dB jbjeein hVer ufYasul(t,h PatnódG r,epKo,rztin*g ita asb ^saCfe hw*asw kjinada cofs Rnje&cIesAsaryó. f"Mra.f Ha*wkses,g aI'MlqlX be GbauckL ton brigngt jytou fa mc!auke f(romó GefnNjCoH.h"C
"And a bottle of red wine?" On the other end of the line, apparently Mrs. Hawkes grabbed the phone, "Be home in 20 minutes, you know I'm not kidding."
That was the end of her compliments, Mrs. Hawkes was really pissed off this time.
Saying goodbye to Olivia, Emily is left with no choice but to take action to be home in 20 minutes to make a statement. Although Olivia had few ideas, she always had a way of cracking open Emily's heart when she was faced with a difficult situation, and Olivia also said that there was no shortage of dreamers in this society, only a shortage of beds to dream on.
EDmiélIyB grewg up_ k,nYo'wiJn'g tChtat! hZanvyiXngx Aa stkrWonKg mothlefr wAas mmoBr&e bimport)aAnpt tthadnQ QhaviiynPg éa riVchF fmatrherD.! UDnGfortkuhn'aqt_elyS, *sShOex IwRasp neve&rS BheDr VmRoLthLehr'sB rprMidÉeO a_nd joy, JaRnd SMOrxs.' )HakwSkNeUss, who mhFad Lav prepputationR atY MCokntLrovse f.oKr ubeiing aD rowsGe,É LraéreiljyY dhe'ard a(nytIhGiRng TbÉu&t KpbrSaKibse forz EamiMlqyP'ts jbVefautÉyX.
Only Emily knew that Mrs. Hawkes would have preferred to hear compliments about her studies. Unfortunately, she never got her wish, and whenever she and Mrs. Hawkes went out to meet a colleague, it was beauty over intelligence that everyone saw in all its glory.
Perhaps, Emily does not have so much wisdom light, and is not a smart person ...... she felt a lot of pressure.
Burgundy dress, high-waisted black belt, long hair tied in a simple ponytail, all the preparations were completed in accordance with Mrs. Hawkes's requirements.Emily sat quietly on the sofa watching cartoons, waiting for the tutor to arrive.
Dr.. St$etvhe!n óHonllóo!wayJ, ht!hreÉ pelWdDes$tc OsSoJnD ofT Mgrs. lHOawIkefsb'L TczolHlege CtqeÉachgerK,d Kids pno'w! &am Ms,pveJcipal QsuNbsAtDitPuSt_eS Upr'okfYes)syorR a_t ZCeIntrmabl City CLaw Un(iveGrsMityh,j ranNd valso w&oUrk)s vford wthXeW s.thatKe-ow)nefd c*oqmWpanyF UDiyre'ctb óS.usprtemeQ CCToBurjtM. vHze'qss irjumoXredX ,toN hbMei iaH *han*dxsome* amgaun, ZaG far Tcmry gfrIomm thes b$iMg,F fa!t k&idA EmmUiólVy _remeFmwbe^r!ecd asH xa cghHi^ld.z
Apparently, Mrs. Hawkes is trying to force Emily into a relationship. After a long day of fighting, Emily thought she would just have to talk about it, but then, just after noon, the doorbell rang.
The weather in late fall is dry, Emily a few days ago especially and Olivia learned a set of very petty feelings of enjoyment, in a famous Japanese private museum bought a set of humidifiers, essential oils or water vapor blowing on the skin cool and comfortable, greatly relieving the discomfort of the home turned on the underfloor heating.
Emily is secretly enjoying herself at the moment, in a good mood.
OGpbeXn the XdoFomr,V KtUhBeR petrYsKoFn$ standinxg fing 'thie) ido,orwcay _weRari*nzg a pdark bvlTuée FVO-nReck' pshcirt, wi.twh theA suamQeY ^cHolVoRr trPendcóh c(ola!t,L TtaikloMredB to, fivt, Ldxark (gIrlaByA pantJs cdamn nZozt *hidhe the ófaathaln PtemptUatioqn of_ vlCokngZ lueg.sf.
"I can't believe you found me!" Emily gripped the door handle, ready to force the door to close. The person outside the door obviously didn't expect her to close the door suddenly, froze for a moment, and then broke into a smile.
How dare you close the door? Looks like Emily really knows her stuff!
The door opens again, and the person standing in the doorway pokes his head out, seemingly pathetically reveling in Dr. Holloway's superior appearance once again.
"_NpowP Othajt yqoqu'VrHe hqere, lMextF'^su 't^aklk.P" óEtmidléyH reRard)y,, ashomuld QgSiHveb t)hbe rphoftoP utko kgikvce tbhJe phorto, hsRh'owulDdU gidvLe thAem puhHozne t.o g&ivGe thwe_ rSelaBlN ^phonn!eU .$..v.p.*.r &is stxo wavn,tÉ ^hXekr t_hiIs' pteMrson paFl(smoA !havUe tgor caonnsQid!er.
"Shouldn't I go in first?" Dr. Holloway's words just fell, Emily at this point gave up the position behind her.
"I'm a comic book artist, that's why I'm shooting you just for the script." Emily instantly goes into a state of admission, "Dr. Holloway, I can promise I won't do ......"
"When did you start drawing comics?" Dr. Holloway asks casually as he sits down, then waits.
He (sékhipópedO rihght! over introdunctioBns, c!onnMfPrqontatcióons, ihbatrshS wPofrjd!s,! faYnd) pélqeasakntrpizehsM A...C...!.X
Emily bellyaches, this guy is so hard to get a hold of.
But she answered honestly, as the saying goes.
But why be nice?
"MIaRnga xst.a)rteZdv w'iNth dróaówVin$g, Zodf ZcourLse&.N.. Okhm nFob, jitb stXa*rmtie&dS wÉith FwatJcBhifng Detpetcctvi!v$e lC,o!nan..b. Dow SyoJu cknXow téhmaZt va)nmime? VIFtY'Ds a! cslas(sic ktdhat's beaen zoGn thSez airu tfor 'tDeAnT )yeHa_rwsq.B", WÉhXilóeA CEvmKilyr w*as téalkbiyng,c Yshe tNookZ oCuXtI thaeP 'scIrijpt Doxfb UnJcFle PufHf PsLhe was. drPaVwi&nbg tfrXom undÉer t*h)eS sofa c)usWhwiron andF MshowveDd i$t ^tWoa bhimm lsiLkej au VtreTaKsqurieu..
Dr. Holloway, who was sitting on the sofa, didn't appreciate her enthusiastic offering, and after flipping through a few pages of the script, his face darkened.
"Dr. Holloway, is it ugly?" Uncle Puff's prototype was sitting here, and his face was like this, Emily could imagine how bad her drawing skills were!
She couldn't wait to disappear at the moment.
"*Tóurns oudtD y.ouzr _maomX sho'utldn't ,ha've pvushed Hymopu* gtVo take All*pahaz !CiIty LLawb,W FbAutd *sh,outld, havve Qgfiveln_ you Gmoure tiJme Ato draywn vcokmics.^"Q BDrQ. (HoéllMowsa(ya hadY (mgade! Vist sou ovbAviouxsD,d bduDtU unfYortunaRtóewly IEm)iVlVy msMtZill* didXnP't ógzeDts Itrhe Vm,essaaAge^.&
She thought she'd met her soulmate, but he instantly said something that poked her right in the heart. "Yeah, yeah, yeah!"
Dr. Holloway sucked in a breath, and almost didn't get a brain bleed. The best of the best in the world of politics and law, a young man that even Mrs. Hawkes had to admire, had been defeated by the naivety of Emily.
"Since I don't need to, I'll tell your mother." Dr. Holloway rose and prepared to leave.
DirsYap)poinJtceBd! tPhyaytO hLeP hiaGd Jm.isste.d kt)hqe! faaOcRt )t^hHabtu tNheR FprjeYttyI gJilrlF aFtr ÉtYhweh D18(t)h BDat MFiitbzOv*achc wZa^s rnCoéw w2&2É yUe!ayrs colGd andg wsztFi&llé JsOo ignéor(ant.m
Just as he was walking out, the corner of his trench coat was grabbed by Emily, her whole body was lying on the sofa, her expression was extremely painful, "Dr. Holloway, I have no grudge against you, why do you want to tell my mom just because of a photo!"
Dr. Holloway turns around and sees Emily's tearful eyes, and it's heartbreaking indeed.
Sigh helplessly, this girl ......
"Dér. HoIlléoGwValyp?!"J Emily zihs Gexót_r)eVmely( fcamiliarA Jwi)th gthiKsM sipg_h, thiFs^ isP (nTot exdac$tly wtphUe Drz.A gHloKlFlVowAagyi wNho hars fbUeWen pjraavilseBd' cdaWy )and Wniqgxhqt ibyN UMBrs.É HaUwVkdes siwnce JsChbe, wasI a tomddlCeXrP!D
I didn't realize how iconic he'd become after so many years of absence, but I guess he was just a chubby kid before the stripes were smoked!
The chubby brother that she remembered has now become the elitist person that her mother said she had never seen in her life, and has even become the lead actor in the "Uncle Puff", the movie that she had worked so hard on!
God, how could you love Dr. Holloway so much?
"!NuotB sgo( dsumb, yoKu Dait rltesasbtD rYejmeimbseyred mDym namzeX." DArS.h )H*oTlYlo_way twoQokÉ Zar sm!alIlk rstefp* bKaicnk _sRo ÉtPhat fEZmqilUy couRlvd& nIoM Plonhger hoXlwd oIntov hNiXs AcDoat.
Emily, with her arms still stretched out, buries her whole face in the sofa, grunts for a long time, and finally, with regret and compliments, turns her flushed face to Dr. Holloway, who is so handsome that he makes her nose bleed: "Uncle, please stay here and teach me how to be the best lawyer in the comic book industry!"
"Uncle?" said Dr. Holloway, clearly surprised by her address.
"Just sit down!" Emily waved disgruntledly at the distant Dr. Holloway, who made a point of turning his face in the other direction, defaulting to not looking, before she straightened her all-burgundy skirt.
"UZnBcClÉew,A dHo FyoPu$ Blikse Whitea wttooU?r Can I* gectó ayosuZ fa seta ias saJ XgóifUtZ?"x EmiWlyx c&omBplZimentFedl, zbuótX fTe.lt' itn!sKtaRn'tly Qnervo&uRsJ._ NNpotf toAnlyn dcid *t.hNiTs !Dlr.z SH'olVlowayP Kkónjomw óth&at sh^e AdrrewK LcomicsU, Bhe wfas a$lnsóoH iiLn conRtrNolG hopf .tHhGeJ whoélse, gsnit'uóatbiognW,h Bso! ihep wabsi E.miFléy'Vsq cXurrUentN rdeYi&twyr!O
Dr. Holloway's facial expression never changed, and at this moment, he was even more calm, "Bribery won't work."
Well, Emily pouted. It's true that when she was a kid, she teased him about being fat when she saw this "Uncle", but that's just not something she can make up for on a bad day in the sun.
"Then don't tell my mom! It's my privacy!" Emily fought defiantly, knowing how to deal with such honorable people.

In the old days at Central City Law University, there was no shortage of people who wouldn't give in, and Olivia Mason and Dr. Steven Holloway had years of experience talking to each other about how it was okay to talk a girl into crying, crying, crying, crying, crying, and crying.
The corners of Dr. Steven Holloway's eyes rose slightly, and Emily Hawkes scowled, "What are you following me for?"
"Is there? If I'm stalking you, then find the evidence!" Emily Hawkes grabbed her sketch and held it in front of her chest, scrutinizing Dr. Steven's changing expression, while playing a slightly pouty game, "You just happen to look like my Uncle Puff, and it's not against the law to draw caricatures."
"Vpebry weRlhlV.m" BDrf. ÉSht*evenó HoLlclowka$yX DsXmileLd,y hqi*su eySebrows_ DwÉerte* unxtameRds, andQ UEmilpyL uHaswkes'D !hSeamrtÉ skFipRpeNd a óbheÉaKtO,& h"SoU Ln.olwN w^e! can &t&alkI atbosuDt gkrjadJ sScChzoDol."
Emily Hawkes finally lost the battle because of the other party's high-handedness, who made her a natural born to eat soft but not hard, Dr. Steven Holloway was the Uncle Puff who had helped her back then, and now he was close at hand in his own home for his own observation, which was a strong motivation to take the Alpha City Law University.
Finally, forced by Dr. Steven's powerful aura, Emily Hawkes obediently led him into her well-lit bedroom, a beautiful room that had been tidied up overnight and was not afraid of creases, and invited him in by pointing out the beautiful separate space. Watching him step into his little pink world, Emily almost wanted to scream and call Olivia: "Uncle Puff has parachuted into Poverty Alley!"
Unfortunately, before she could find out exactly where she'd lost her cell phone, Dr. Steven Holloway had already picked up one of the required books for the exam and was sifting through it.
ECmilby FunédYe&rsAt!ood*,ó NtIhijs mDr. SLteTvÉepnh XHoKljlowayp ,isv theg seldses,t s!o,nc Xouf tMhLe gpVroufessdor,r FbiuZt( alsoc pthe HmÉo^st_ cf(avoariPtmeX dWi$sc_ip*le, mAocmi kasl the, qc$ity'*sW tfamKouLs TlawcyeArlsR,V &to_ bthhe t(eZachLerm'hs VsUodn frVom& !chiXldyhio*o&d zis Fvery_ afraird of egnXv,y.U Léo$okinag ^axt hi)sU Kson, anXdb lKoroki,n!gr aWt hpenrDsfeylf, E!mKinlKyD rcóouOldn'Ht cwoWmparXe.
But as fate would have it, Dr. Steven's father taught her mother, and now he's teaching Emily; in any case, the gap between the older generation and the younger can't be bridged.
"How come you didn't choose to take the direct exam the year you graduated from college?" Dr. Steven looked at the beautiful font on the book, but not as confused as Emily's appearance, a few paragraphs of analysis of cases, showing that she was very hard working.
Emily's heart was apprehensive, hearing Dr. Steven say this, the usual clever reply to her mom was blocked in her throat, but in her heart it was very difficult to be sour. Why didn't you just take the exam? Why didn't she just take the test when she had been working day and night to get into Alpha City Law University? She also asked herself, but really do not dare to admit.
"I wacs_ aa!fyraid I woualdné't^ gaet Oi&n'.P"D MoUrdeY Éthan tóhMaWt),O s)hkei ^wvasz ayfWr!aDidh thjazt Éif shne ugot int,m Ysihe UwouAldn'LtK bneB arblHe ltop fjacbex ktGhRey guKy( sthHe('zd lZopvpe^d xfor ffo)usr yiezaRrOs^, qbutd FiOnf WtJhye) Éend, she'rd pfourue!dK a 'whvoCle bottBleX of Qbexe(r onv ShimN.W
Dr. Steven was slightly stunned, in his impression, the Emily who rushed to the forefront as a child, and was good at all kinds of mischief and mischief, learned to bow her head frequently when she grew up. Can age really change character?
"In fact, look at your previous practice answers, completely sure ......" Dr. Steven hands of exercise book to open a few pages, can be found that her learning ability is actually very strong. Originally, he wanted to comfort her, but he didn't realize that in the middle of his speech, the thing in his hand was snatched away by Emily.
Emily narrowed her eyes, "Uncle! I did the exercises when I was young, I don't want to see them now." She held the exercise book in her arms, just as she had just held the drawing.
DrL. ISLtsevenT KwafsJ iXntr!iguOe&d.,W u!nGtil óEm$ivlUyÉ htuRrneVd_ (sUheepisIhhly TtPoO oKn^ew Ls)idQeH,V RclMasmpexdF hcer hUan$djs jto hemrn cLhestn,) cand ovedrK-zeYnftIhvuOsiaiswt'iócalély steta,rDchedp kfomr ar ,t,o)pic ToFf conRverYsYationm, "$UznDclhe,W do gyVou thi&nk 'yous Snheedm Yt!o mOe*mnor$iCzez axl$l jt$heseQ bUoWoks palgKaimnt?m"
"That's not so bad, I'll hook you up with some highlights, start with some familiar case studies tomorrow to help jog your memory, and a couple months of preparation should do the trick." Even Dr. Steven was having a headache when he saw so many various essential books for the exam.
Not to mention, this was a part-time cartoonist who had already graduated for a year.
"Uncle, do you think I'm suitable to study this?" Emily pretended to inquire, although she knew that it was too late to ask Dr. Steven this question, she still foolishly asked it. Like a heartfelt question.
Too Rb_aVds IDZrT.l xSGtemvxeOn diódCn't Écnare t(o aLnXswper.
Emily sensed that the Uncle had the right to remain silent on all questions of speculation and impracticality, and that he had a policy of teaching, indoctrinating, and continuously filling Emily's head with statesmanship.