Although Dr. Nguyen Le has been in charge of Gao Chuan's psychological work, since Gao Chuan volunteered to cooperate with the hospital's research and highlighted his peculiarities, every injury, growth, withdrawal, pain and despair he has been observed by most researchers. For many people in this hospital, "Takakawa" is nothing strange. His actions, and why he did the way they did, the mental changes behind them, and the pathologies behind all the physical and mental changes that could be observed, were all in the spotlight.

Even so, when he revisited what Takakawa had recorded himself, Dr. Ander still felt a strange sense of empathy, which could not be said to be unfamiliar, but it was by no means as familiar as he thought he was. He read the handwriting on the paper by the crimson moonlight, and from the words, it seemed that he could see the face of "Takakawa" and his every pain, as if he could feel something that he had not felt before.

It's painful, it's desperate, it's crazy, it's distressing, it's helpless, and it's struggling...... It was only when Dr. Ender realized that his eyes were a little blurry that he felt cold tear stains from the corners of his eyes. Of course, he didn't think that the things left by "Gao Chuan" were of any use, but even if they weren't useful, they still made him feel resonance—a kind of resonance that he couldn't help but feel if he subjectively wanted to harden his heart.

Dr. Ander seems to be able to see himself in these contents, but he doesn't feel that he has any resemblance to "Takakawa" who wrote them. In the depths of himself and this boy—the depths that exclude the material body—there is also a deep commonality in addition to individuality, and this sense of commonality makes him feel as if he can become one with the "Takakawa" he knows at some point.

After that, he suddenly woke up. This feeling of being unable to help but fit in makes him feel some indescribable horrors, and reminds him of the end of a patient with doomsday syndrome.

Every patient with doomsday syndrome will turn into a yellowish LCL in an incorrigible collapse, and there is no observable material difference in the LCL liquid that each patient turns into. This made Dr. Ander wonder if the feeling of being one with "Takakawa" at this time, the impulse to empathize, was also a harbinger of the nature of LCL? In the study of patients with "viruses" and doomsday syndrome, there will always be many subtle clues that are not independent, but always seem to be related to each other on some level. This kind of correlation always makes people can't help but make all kinds of associations.

In the past, researchers generally believed that this vague, subtle, seemingly accidental but inevitable connection was the breakthrough of the research work, and the embodiment of many conceivable possibilities, however, in the current situation, Dr. Ender only felt extremely terrifying. He couldn't help but retch, and all the thoughts that kept coming to his mind that even he couldn't see clearly were so chaotic and seemed to be connected to the truth, as if connected to the truth but also made people feel like a cloud, some facts that made him feel terrified and unwilling to accept, as if they were hidden in these thoughts. It's not that I can't see clearly, but I don't dare to see clearly, no matter how much the subjective consciousness wants to delve into it, there is a stronger force that seems to come from the subconscious or instinct to prevent me from delving deeply.

It seems that there is a voice whispering to itself, dissuading itself, warning itself that once you get deep into it, something terrible will happen. The terrible thing is not manifested in the external factors, but in the internal factors of the self. If it is described in psychological terms, it is a collapse of self-concept, but in terms of the vague answer that this fear directly brings to Dr. Ender, it is a more terrible thing than "self-collapse".

- Yes, something is coming out of my head.

Dr. Ender's hands trembled, he couldn't even grasp the paper, and he desperately held his head. What is about to emerge is not some tangible substance, but another manifestation of materiality, something intangible, parasitic in thought, imagination and thought. At this moment, Dr. Ander only felt that it was precisely because of reading these contents recorded by "Gao Chuan" that these things were awakened and made them active—they were actually already in their own thoughts, imaginations, and thoughts, and they had already been infected.

"Ah, it's a virus, it's a virus, it's a virus......" Dr. Ander heard himself mutter, and in his almost crazy feelings, there seemed to be another third person's perspective, observing this almost crazy self.

Fighting back the great fear and the madness and despair that gnawed at him, Dr. Ender grabbed cards, papers, and notebooks, and stumbled in directions that he didn't even realize clearly. The crimson moonlight, which was already weird, seemed to become more tangible, and it also gave him a more substantial sense of horror. He didn't want to stay in this exposed wilderness, he wanted to escape into a room where the moonlight couldn't reach, and he even wanted to go underground, in the darkness without light. It seems that this is the only way to avoid the unspeakable horror.

Dr. Ander sped away, and when his reason returned, he found himself in front of him a towering tower.

The tower is a landmark in the Isolated Island Hospital, and its silhouette can be seen at least from anywhere on the island, even outside the harbor, and it can be used as a positioning coordinate. However, the actual outpouring of this tower is certainly not as simple as a beacon guiding the way. In the hospital, many people, including many researchers, felt that the Tower was hiding an even more secret and brutal experiment, a place where the products of the experiments that violated human ethics ended up. What is hidden inside is supposed to be dark, intolerable, and full of the negativity of human nature - in the content of "Takakawa" written on paper, he once believed that the secret of Dorothy's disappearance was buried in this tower.

However, as the top person in charge of the hospital, Dr. Ander knew very well that there was nothing in it that matched these dark imaginations. The tower wasn't used to store experiments, or to imprison prisoners, or to base secret research. As far as he knew, there was nothing in the tower - yes, contrary to the malicious speculation of others, the tower hadn't been opened many times, not because it had hidden secrets, but because it was really a building that wasn't used much.

There was a lot of space in the tower, but even Dr. Ender didn't know what the people who had built it in mind, and the space inside seemed to be redundant—no, no, when Dr. Ender had such a thought, he immediately had a strong sense of disobedience, did he really not know what was inside? Is there really a superfluous building in this hospital? No, it seems that I know what's inside, it seems to be something very important, but suddenly I can't remember it, or rather, my memory is a little confused.

"Is it infection again?" Dr. Ander muttered to himself. As he stood firm and tried to look at the tower, an inexplicable feeling came back to him, and he still couldn't describe it. It's just that, compared to the sense of fear and despair that drove him crazy, the inexplicable feeling brought to him by this tower seemed to have some comforting effect.

Dr. Ander didn't hesitate for long, he felt that he had to push open the door to enter the tower, and the strange behavior he made in the dormitory where the three girls were located, Sakuya, Hakkei, and Marceau, and the strong premonition he had when he opened the door to the room where the three girls were, was like some invisible line connecting to the door of the tower in front of him—he wanted to open it, not for other reasons, but because of the actions he had done in the dormitory where the three girls were, It was also because he dug out what was hidden in "Takakawa".

And this kind of realization is not all imaginary, but as if another self is telling you that you have to do it.

More than ever, Dr. Ander feels that his every move, every thought, is not entirely the "self" that he can recognize.

The crumbling red moon in the night sky seemed to be still far away in the sky, and it seemed to have pressed down on the spire. The crimson light flowed down the tower with a fluid thickness, seeping into the texture of the tower, and gradually too complex and indescribable patterns emerged.

"It's an illusion, it must be a hallucination......" Dr. Ender could not help but think of the strange sight as he watched the strange sight, a malice that made his hands and feet cold, as if it were penetrating his skin, deep into his internal organs, and deep inside his heart, making some kind of non-mechanical, but also non-biological, chewing sound—a malice that was like chewing on his own mind, he couldn't help but think so.

Dr. Ender was so sure that even if he had seen conclusive evidence, he would not have been so sure that he had not come here by accident, but had been driven here by the malice that had enveloped the entire island of the hospital.

An irresistible sense of powerlessness, subject to fate, made him feel like he was about to suffocate.

Dr. Ender seemed to see something, perhaps a hallucination, but the body's violent response made it difficult to continue to think that it was just a hallucination.

This malice, the entity behind this power, is so unimaginable, so grand and unforgiving, and in contrast to how small and powerless humanity on this planet as a whole is. Just like an ordinary person who is swept into the storm of the ocean, when facing the surging flood, when he feels the earth under his feet, when he looks at the planet from outer space, when he looks at the infinite universe from the space station, he can also feel the powerlessness and insignificance.

Let him can't help but scream, to call, to express it with a hysterical emotion:

“KAEKESA！ WIND EVIL, WIND EVIL, KAEKESA! And he didn't understand the meaning of the syllables he was shouting. He was only desperate to escape into the tower, as if this was the only way to avoid the great malice that was foreshadowed behind the syllables he had shouted.

This time, Dr. Ender was no longer in a trance, nor did he hesitate, staggering to the tower, pushing open the door that had been soaked in crimson light, but he was not sure if the door he had pushed open was a material door. Whether it was the touch of the skin or what I saw, the door seemed to have lost its texture, and the texture impregnated by the crimson moonlight was expanding in the field of vision, not so much crashing into the door, but being swallowed up by the dense red light that made people dizzy when they looked closely.

Dr. Ander clung to the relics of "Takakawa", and even though he had encountered something so horrible, so incomprehensible, and so intimidating to ponder, he could not abandon the cards, papers, and notes, and he could not even explain whether his emotions were due to an egoistic instinct or some other thought. He just trembled, and when he felt that he had "entered the tower", he dodged to the side and leaned back, naturally leaning against the cold, hard object that should be the wall.

At this moment, it was dark in front of his eyes, and he couldn't see anything.

Dr. Ander gasped in horror, trying to say something to himself to regulate his near-collapse mentality, but he did not know what to do, the firm will that he had always prided himself on in the past was so fragile in his consciousness at this time, and those who once thought he had rich theoretical knowledge and practical experience seemed to be unable to help to comfort himself. The strange call he made in front of the tower made him feel that he had done something wrong, and he was helpless to do these wrong things, and he didn't need to feel guilty, just as he couldn't decide when a natural disaster would come.

He was tempted to think of it as a vision to frighten himself, but, to be honest, he couldn't—he wanted to, but he couldn't, and whether he could do it was completely up to his will and effort, and there was nothing more frustrating, frightening, and desperate than that.

This experience made him deeply realize that he was more vulnerable than he thought.

Even so, he wished he could do something about it, at least not let himself die in this state of frustration, fear, madness, and despair.

But what can you do?

Dr. Ender's mind was swollen again, and he decided to take a look at the last legacy of "Takakawa". I wonder what's in that notebook? 10