Colt is not a spirit.
The teacher happened to walk up to Timothy's side, took a look at his LCD screen, praised his Black Swan photo for its dreamy beauty, borrowed the camera as a teaching tool.
Timothy generously handed the camera to the teacher.
The students crowded around the tripod one by one, admiring the so-called hazy beauty.
Colt and the others dispersed from the crowd and also leaned in for a closer look.
His artistic sense was somewhat lacking; he only felt that the photo lacked a subject and looked like a background. If someone had been standing at the golden ratio position to serve as the foreground, the composition would have been more complete.
Colt looked at the photo, then looked toward the lakeside from where Timothy had been standing to take the picture, recalling his own position just now.
Colt suddenly turned his head and ran into a gaze full of investigative intent.
Timothy naturally shifted his gaze toward the fighting Black Swan and let out a yawn.
He yawned!
He is sleepy!
Colt forgot to look into the issue with the gaze just now, his mind filled with the thought that Timothy needed sleep.
Art photography class should be used for sleeping, just like language and math classes!
Timothy found that Ghost had become excited, he tentatively let out another yawn.
Colt used a piece of chalk to drive the nearby fighting Black Swan into the lake.
So Dream God's Blessing really is related to Ghost.
Timothy looked thoughtful. After finishing a yawn, he fished a can of coffee and a laptop out of his backpack. Catching a glimpse of Ghost, who was clearly showing signs of disappointment, he began to happily drink his coffee while processing company reports, merger proposals, event planning schemes..
Tsk, canned coffee at room temperature is so bad, but I'll just make do.
The teacher and classmates all understood that Wayne had business to attend to at any time and anywhere, so no one approached to disturb him.
Colt sat two meters behind Timothy to the left, watching him finish one can of coffee before pulling another one out of his backpack.
Was his backpack a spatial bag? Just how many cans of coffee were inside it?
As the drowsiness turned into a caffeine rush, Colt felt the potent anesthetic he carried with him and wondered if knocking someone unconscious would trigger "Dream God's Blessing."
Reason and morality prevented Colt from taking action.
It was cloudy today, turning to clear skies, the sun emerged in the afternoon, casting dappled sunlight through the gaps in the leaves. The photography teacher's humorous voice drifted through the sultry autumn air, while a cool breeze from the lake carried the faint fragrance of North American aquatic plants, a Black Swan glided through the lake, foraging for food..
The teacher's and classmates' voices grew increasingly distant, leaving only the light, rapid clicking of keyboards, like hypnotic white noise.
Colt, who hadn't slept well for several days, closed his eyes.
Timothy felt his vision vanish, as he moved his neck, he scanned behind him with his peripheral vision.
Colt held his backpack, his head resting on his arms, those rare violet eyes closed, his hanging silver hair more dazzling than the sunlight of Gotham. The blades of grass beneath Colt did not bend; they passed through the top of his feet, looking like two overlapping layers.
Timothy saved the files, set the computer aside, stretched, leaned back, his left hand waving naturally toward Colt.
His arm passed through Colt as if passing through thin air.
Timothy shuddered violently, as if entering a falling elevator out of control; his soul could not keep up with the speed of his body, creating an intense sensation of weightlessness.
After the brief sensation of weightlessness, his body felt as if it were encased in a bubble. The damp, rot-scented air of Gotham was kept at bay, leaving only a faint, ethereal scent of lemon, the clamorous noises drifted away from him, leaving the entire world in silence.
A magical realm? Or a spatial pocket?
Timothy's mind raced as the watch on his wrist busily collected air samples.
Colt's eyelashes fluttered, he opened his eyes.
Timothy did not move.
He looked at those pure, highly saturated eyes, a violet RGB value flashed through his mind: 139, 0, 255.
Melancholy is a feeling; Colt's eyes are actually very bright.
It wasn't a physical glow, but a vibrant, bright radiance of pride and confidence, a pure and clear brightness from within.
Timothy had only seen this kind of brightness in the eyes of two types of people.
One is a child who has not yet seen the darkness of society and is full of hope for the future.
The other is a madman who has recognized the darkness of society and is determined to change the world.
Timothy was not sure which kind Colt was.
Colt also looked at Timothy.
As a Ghost, he could clip through people and overlap with them at any time and in any place. Colt was used to being walked through, but he didn't particularly like it. Normally, when encountering such a situation, Colt would avoid it. But right now, Colt remained motionless, even holding his breath.
Timothy did not use hairspray today, his bangs hanging down, making him look closer to his actual age. The concealer on his face was not applied evenly, with a small patch of slightly darker color under his left eye, but it did not detract from his exquisite handsomeness.
Mottled sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves and shone onto Timothy's face, reflecting in his eyes like a faintly glowing figure.
Colt reached out, the white shadow reflected in Timothy's eyes reached out as well.
Timothy
A book came flying toward him.
Colt sprang away and vanished like a startled cat.
Timothy suddenly snapped back from the silent void to the noisy world.
The classmate screamed in terror, "Jesus Christ, Timothy, you just seemed to turn transparent. I mean, I swear, I was watching you the whole time, you just vanished.."
"Really?" Timothy sat up and looked around.
Don't listen to his nonsense; he must be hallucinating from the flying/leaves!
“I'm not on drugs! I don't know who reported us, but the welfare society's secret base was raided by the dean, now they won't even let champagne be smuggled in! Let alone leaves..”
Timothy ignored the noisy classmates and looked up, spotting a white shadow amidst the dense canopy.
Colt poked his head out from the tree trunk, looking down cautiously, locked eyes with Timothy once again.
They locked eyes.
..
Timothy blinked.
Colt instantly pulled his head back, his feet slipping in mid-air, in his frantic state, he managed to travel less than a meter in three seconds. He finally scrambled to deploy his scooter, charging forward even faster than he had on the day of the flight system test.
Author's Note:
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Chapter 14
Oak Tree Manor.
Birdie fell asleep while watching television, Joseph teleported back five boxes of strawberries, two crates of apples, one crate of grapes.
You can't treat scrounging from the company like you're restocking a supermarket!
Colt reminded Joseph to take things slow and steady. Joseph said that since the young master was coming to the laboratory for an inspection, the logistics department was relaxing their restrictions, which was a new benefit for him.
The young master of Wayne Laboratory is Timothy Drake.
Colt ran through the equations in his head, the memory of Timothy's final blink made his heart skip a beat. His head was buzzing, as if a hundred Birdies were watching horror movies on television, making it impossible for him to clear his thoughts and think seriously.
Colt pulled out the lollipop molds, used the leftover fruit to make juice, then boiled it down into syrup and poured it into the molds.
Mental workers need extra sugar, so the house is always well-stocked with various kinds of candy.
After Colt took charge of the kitchen, he learned to make candy himself in order to squeeze some money out of the household expenses to buy parts.
The lollipop molds were made by his father using a 3D printer; not only were the candy shapes shaped like bats, but even the plastic sticks featured tiny bats. There was a flying Batman with an outstretched cape, a combat Batman holding a Batarang, an unhappy Batman with arms crossed and a frown, a smiling Batman holding a Robin Bird.
Green apple flavor, purple grape flavor, red strawberry flavor.
Colt made another pot of chocolate, bringing the total to four flavors.
Making delicious food is like conducting an experiment; watching substances react causes the excited brain to gradually calm down.
Colt, with a red strawberry Batarang lollipop in his mouth, washed the tableware nimbly. He held up a stainless steel spoon, but his reflection did not show on its polished surface.
The classmate said Timothy had disappeared.
This doesn't make sense.
Colt is no ordinary Ghost. If he wants to touch something, he must first use his mental power to envelop the target, pulling the person or object into his own Ghost field.
In theory, the Ghost field does not belong to the same space as reality, so things that enter the Ghost field cannot be seen by the outside world.
But whether it is physical contact or mental coverage, there is a prerequisite.
This thing must belong to me.
The clothes are mine, the lollipop is mine. That's why the clothes and the lollipop were pulled into the Ghost field. You can wear them, you can eat them. Timothy clearly isn't mine, so he couldn't touch Timothy; they were in a state of clipping due to spatial overlap at that time.
The classmate said Timothy disappeared because Timothy accidentally wandered into his Ghost field?
It's not impossible.
Just like Joseph, Birdie.
Joseph is the father, Birdie is his pet, there is a mental connection between them.
The dreamscape bound him and Timothy together, creating a bridge that allowed them to have a mental connection? So, Timothy could see him, the white shadow he saw in Timothy's eyes wasn't a speck of light, but himself?
Colt thought of that blurry photograph themed after Black Swan.
The photo was blurry because it lacked a subject; Black Swan and the surface of the lake were originally just the background.
Timothy didn't just see him; he wanted to leave evidence, but the camera couldn't capture him inside the Ghost field.
What should I do?
Timothy's probing today proved that he possesses a powerful curiosity and will never simply pretend not to notice.
Timothy's probing will only increase, affecting his peaceful life, perhaps.. it will catch him.
To unbind, to sever the mental connection?