Byron came to London in the midsummer rain.

At that time, there was a heavy downpour in London, and the lights and high-rise buildings were clearly reflected on the streets, shining brightly in the dim sky, as if the Thames River had reached every corner of the city.

"That's why I hate England... basically spending every day in the rain."

Byron wiped his face and complained.

The blond young man beside him was holding the cat and looking at the big city curiously. The bright lights in front of him were reflected in his bright blue eyes, making those eyes as clear as glass.

"Meow~"

The young man in his arms rubbed against his master, grinned, and accidentally exposed his sharp, white teeth. It looked a bit weird, which made the young man press the button helplessly.

Press its ears.

"Very, very, very beautiful, London."

The young man stammered, obviously a little curious about this big city, and huddled under the umbrella held by Byron, exhaled, and buried half of his face in the cat's soft fur.

"Like, like a... gem! It's clear, and it can refract light. It's beautiful!"

London in midsummer is a day when grass and trees grow. The trees along the streets are as green as emeralds, magnificent and brilliant. The Thames River ripples with light. The bell tower and church in the distance still seem to have a Victorian style.

Especially when it rains. Everything is extremely blurry and extremely clear. The water spreading to any place on the street is like beautiful white crystal, reflecting the shadow of the city so gently.

"When-when-"

Big Ben is ringing.

"Is it beautiful? Well, as an international-level metropolis, it is somewhat impressive."

However, Byron clearly had a disdainful attitude towards the capital of the country, which he had not returned to for a long time. Even if his companions who were traveling with him showed obvious affection, they only reluctantly agreed.

He looked at the text messages on his phone, raised his eyebrows slightly, and then stuffed the phone into his pocket. A smile flashed in his eyes that looked like the shadows of emerald trees in midsummer, as bright as the rare sunshine in London: "

But let’s go find Beiyuan first, let’s go, Carol, and Mr. Casey.”

"Meow."

The yawning black and white cat nestled on Byron's head opened its eyes, responded condescendingly, and flicked its tail gracefully.

Eh, eh? Do you really want to meet someone?

Lewis Carroll opened his eyes wide and hugged his cat tightly. He felt gradually becoming nervous and uneasy. He felt like a light on his back, but he did not dare to object and could only express his protest in a small voice.

:"oh……"

Although he was a little curious about the friends Byron mentioned that he would never forget, they were not that many. His favorite people were generally limited to girls around seven years old, and only in front of such little girls did he have no mental barriers.

Even if the curiosity of "seeing such a big city for the first time" briefly diluted Carol's fear of crowds, in essence he is still a social phobic who suffers from a severe stutter - and the real social phobia is...

Not many people take the initiative to socialize.

Feeling as if he was about to face some bad situation, the young man shrank silently and looked at the passers-by warily. At the same time, he didn't quite understand why he followed Byron to London in such a daze.

It seemed that... the other party dragged him away, and then he followed without reacting at all and did not dare to offer any resistance.

Ouch, Carol, you are an idiot! Why do you want to hang out with such a social terrorist?

While Lewis Carroll was feeling depressed and sorry for himself, Byron also successfully dragged his new friend to the hotel where the traveler was temporarily staying.

“What a rich Bell Tower Attendant style.”

Byron muttered a word or two and looked at a few relatively hidden corners. He could see the miniature cameras hidden there at a glance, so he simply took off his coat and put it directly on the man with his head lowered.

Carol's head.

"Woo!"

Carol gave a small exclamation and pathetically tugged on the coat that was put over her head as a cloak, revealing a pair of confused and uneasy blue eyes.

"Be careful. If you don't want to be sacked in London for no apparent reason and then arrested and brainwashed, don't use your powers."

Byron covered his face, threatened in the lowest possible voice, and narrowed his emerald green eyes slightly.

Carol opened her eyes wide, shrank subconsciously, pulled the coat on her head towards her face, and also hid the still smiling British boy in her arms. She felt that what the other party described was a bit too scary.

.

Why are there still sacks and brainwashing? Isn’t London a bit strange?

Byron, who had indeed made some exaggerated modifications, saw his friend's obviously frightened look and nodded with satisfaction, feeling that he had spent all his efforts to get this social terror out of London intact:

"Let's go, Kitahara should be there... eh, Kitahara?"

"Byron?"

As soon as Kitahara and Feng walked downstairs, they saw Byron's iconic bright red hair and shouted each other's name in surprise.

Miss Austen, who was squinting her eyes beside him, also heard the name. She suddenly opened her pink eyes, like a lioness who suddenly woke up, looking at this person who had been watching since Shelley's death with vigilance.

The tower attendant ran away.

"Good morning, Kitahara - and this, Jane Austen? If I remember the name correctly."

Byron raised his head and raised his eyebrows, and then said hello generously. Taking advantage of the fact that he had not been formally dismissed by the bell tower attendant, he smiled openly and aggressively:

"That's right, Miss Jane. In my memory, you were still the little girl who followed Shelley every day. I didn't expect that you can now monitor people on your own."

The red-haired Transcendent's tone was not very polite. It was full of sarcasm and gunpowder. Even Kitahara, Kaede and Carol could hear it, not to mention Jane Austen herself.

The noble lady frowned slightly: she had been following Shelley all the time, and naturally knew that Percy Shelley had always been against unwarranted surveillance of ordinary people during his lifetime, so Byron's words were undoubtedly some kind of provocation.

and a sense of doubt.

For Shelley's sake...

Austin was originally in a bad mood today because of the rain, but he didn't pay too much attention to the other party's tone. He stared at the other party with his beautiful and magnificent eyes: "Are you here to find Beiyuan?"

"First of all, let me state that Mr. Kitahara Kaede is now an important monitoring target within the Clock Tower Attendant."

Miss Austin glanced at the traveler, and then said in an unhurried tone: "Understand? You need to make an appointment to meet."

Kitahara Kaede, who felt that no one he met seemed to have gone through the reservation process: "..."

He opened his mouth, but finally chose to shut up decisively under the umbrella that Miss Jian silently held, and looked helplessly at Byron, who looked very unhappy below.

"Ha, are you kidding me? Do you still need to make an appointment in this situation? Do you think this is a prison visit?"

Byron couldn't help but raise his voice, folding his arms and shouting loudly. As a result, before he finished speaking, Dickens's very noisy voice sounded from upstairs.

"Kitahara! Take care of your own Elliot!"

Dickens ran out with a depressed look on his head and messy dark purple hair. His already curly hair was curled a little more obviously. He complained very loudly: "I just wanted to read the poems he wrote, but he ended up

My hair is all messed up!”

Eliot walked out behind Dickens, holding his notebook tightly in his arms. The pure black eyes on his face that was too beautiful to be popular looked calm and innocent.

"Only Kitahara can see it."

He tilted his head and said in a very serious tone. His black hair fell down softly. Then he glanced in the direction of the traveler. His expressionless face showed a kind of gentleness and gentleness.

Byron was silent for a few seconds, looking silently at these "weird" guys who had appeared, and then at Kitahara and Kaede, who had made so many friends while he was away, and suddenly felt that his family status was being seriously threatened.

illusion.

Beihara and Feng coughed, looked away, and barely held back their laughter.

"So, Miss Austin."

Byron retracted his gaze, looked at the eldest lady on the stairs, and said quietly: "Have all these people made appointments?"

"Huh? Do you still need to make an appointment?"

Dickens reacted a little faster than Austen. He stretched his head over with a confused look and looked at Byron below: "Isn't it enough to touch porcelain?"

Austen took a deep breath and looked at Dickens who was trying to criticize her. Her tone sounded gentle and soft: "Charles——"

We really can't keep this bird, so we might as well just throw it into boiling water and scald it and pluck out its feathers.

Kitahara and Kaede looked at Dickens who suddenly became furious after realizing it. They touched the red tea cup that still felt warm in their hands, and a smile appeared in their orange-gold eyes.

"Would you like a cup of tea, George?"

The traveler leaned half of his body on the railing, turned his head and smiled slightly, raising the tea cup in his hand towards his friend whom he had not seen for a long time.

George Gordon Byron blinked, then held down Carol who dared not say anything next to him, and showed an unusually bright smile to the traveler: "Okay, it would be better if there is wine."

The house that Kitahara and Kaede booked in the hotel was not very big. But like all the rooms he chose during the trip, they all had large windows. The almost transparent glass could admit the light and endless rain without distinction.

.

Wilde, who had not chased him out to make trouble with others, was sitting on the sofa, holding his chin with his fingers, looking intently at the painting he had set up on the easel. His long, light golden curly hair fell down, reflecting the painter's handsome face.

Make him look like Narcissus in Greek mythology.

Eliot was writing poetry obediently, dazing for a while when writing a word or two, as if he was seriously thinking about what emotions were growing in his empty heart, which were beautiful enough to be written into poetry.

Austin was chasing Dickens outside and beating him up. The noisy sounds came from below. When Kitahara and Feng heard this, they couldn't help but tilt their heads and smile. They thought it was rare for the other party to be so lively.

Carol huddled in the corner, holding her cat and the black and white cat that took the initiative to pick her arms. Because she didn't know how to speak, she simply stopped talking and just looked at the room with a curious and timid look.

Everything in it.
To be continued...