Chapter 269: The Taste of an Old Friend
Rustle, rustle, rustle.
The sound of a pen tip scratching against paper continued without pause.
The eyeballs atop the head were still twitching neurotically, but the image gradually taking shape was surprisingly recognizable.
It looked like a scene from his memory.
In the memory, he stood in a clean, bright space resembling a laboratory or research institute, as if walking down a corridor.
And the direction he was facing, the very center of the image, was an office door marked with a tilted "X"-shaped emblem.
The emblem was split in two.
The left half was darker, like a black shadow, while the right half was lighter, as if in another color.
The next moment, the arm stopped moving, and the head ceased its activity.