The footsteps of the heels always echoed softly as they swept through the empty hallway, something like the tremor of the keys in the piano cavity.

There was a "squeak", there was a knock on the door, and Mrs. Miller, who was holding the tea, said with some surprise: "Professor Schiller, why are you standing so close to the fireplace?" ”

Then she turned her gaze to Schiller's hand, which was holding a piece of firewood, and Mrs. Miller sighed helplessly, and said, "Sir, the wood in the fireplace has been specially treated, and the new wood you have picked up at random from outside cannot be burned." ”

"Really?" Schiller, who was standing by the fireplace, threw the piece of wood into it, closed the door of the metal railing outside the fireplace, and walked to the single sofa next to the coffee table, he looked at Mrs. Miller and said, "Excuse me, ma'am, who are you?" ”

"Professor Schiller, in the four hours you have been back in the hospital, you have asked me this question six times, and in those four hours, I have only come six times."

Mrs. Miller put the teapot and teacup on the coffee table, looked at Schiller and said, "How I wish you were playing tricks on me, because if you do have face blindness, I will probably be bothered by this problem for the rest of my life." ”

With that, she turned and walked out the door, but just as she reached out to pull the doorknob, she was almost hit by the door that was pushed open.

Mrs. Miller raised her eyebrows a little angrily, and just as she wanted to scold, she found that it was Bruce who pushed the door, and she immediately slowed down her expression, shook her head and said, "Mr. Wayne, you came just in time, the tea has just been brewed." ”

Bruce nodded to Mrs. Miller and moved out of the way, and only after Mrs. Miller walked out of the door did Bruce enter, then turned and gently closed the door.

Schiller glanced up at him, stretched out his finger and pointed to the sofa opposite, and then continued to pour water into the teacup, and after Bruce sat down, he said in a very rare positive voice: "Well, uh, a new professor, what shall I call you?" ”

"I'm Schiller." Schiller replied, and after pouring his own tea, he poured another cup for Bruce and placed it in front of him, saying, "You don't have to distinguish between us, we are all Schiller." ”

"Okay, but I'd like to know more about how you differ from Professor Schiller, the one I know best." Bruce looked into Schiller's eyes and said directly.

"Do you want me to judge him from my point of view?" Schiller blew on the tea and said, "He's quite a nosy little fellow, and like most of the other me, he's talkative, pretentious, and a little noisy." ”

Bruce opened his eyes slightly, he stared into Schiller's eyes, and repeated his words: "...... Bub? ”

"Oh, I see, didn't he tell you?" Schiller looked a little surprised, his right eyebrow jumped, then leaned on the armrest on the side of the single sofa, supported the armrest with his elbows, pinched his chin with his index finger and thumb, tilted his head slightly and said: "There is a sequence in the birth of personality traits, generally speaking, the earlier it is born, the stronger it is. ”

"The Professor Schiller you know best is one of the first primordial personalities born, the origin that supports Schiller's personality, and the pillar of the tower of thinking."

"The Professor Schiller you know is arrogant, perhaps, you also know greed and laziness, every personality trait has a name, and I am no exception, I call it pathological."

"He should have told you that he was a psychopath, and it wasn't a metaphor that he was really mentally ill."

"Scholar-type autism?" Bruce asked.

Schiller nodded, and he continued: "You should know that Schiller's thinking tower was not born with him, but was born from an accident. ”

Bruce fell into the memory, and he remembered what he had seen in Schiller's memory space, and one day, Schiller's personality was suddenly shattered, and those fragments. It constitutes the current tower of thinking.

"When the tower is not broken, personality traits such as arrogance, greed, and laziness are not independent existences, just as it is impossible for you to talk to the arrogance or greed in your personality now, personality is originally a whole, and traits do not exist independently."

Bruce seemed to understand something, and he looked at Schiller and said, "At that time, you were alone? ”

"This brings us to the duality of people with autism, and you may know that many people with mental illness have a common characteristic, that is, when they have the onset and when they don't, the state is completely different."

"It's not just dissociative identity disorder or schizophrenia that feels like there's another self living for you, but almost all people with dualistic mental illness feel this way."

"A mentally ill person, his life is divided into two parts, there is a normal part, and there is a part of the mental illness attack, the vast majority of patients are unable to control themselves when the mental illness is attacking, so at that time, what is controlling them?"

"It's a mental illness." Bruce replied instinctively, and then he raised his eyes to Schiller and said, "Sick...... Morbidity...... That's what it meant. ”

"That's right, the opposite of normalcy is pathology." Schiller nodded and said: "Before the personality was broken, Schiller, like every mentally ill person, had two states, one was normal and the other was pathological, so, at that time, I existed. ”

Bruce thought for a while, and then thought of a question, but before he could ask, Schiller directly said the answer: "Of course, collapse is the norm, so it will cause Schiller to be unable to take care of himself, if the collapse is sick, then isn't he directly cured?" ”

Bruce showed a helpless expression, and Schiller shook his head and said, "To be precise, I can't be considered a personality trait, because personality traits are actually a part of consciousness, and I am a product of a lesion of the brain, a part of matter." ”

"No matter how Schiller's personality collapses, the structure of his brain remains the same, so no matter what the normalcy becomes, the pathology is still the same."

Hearing this, Bruce had a new question, he said, "Since you are not a personality trait, how can you control the body?" ”

"That's where the doctor who treated me comes in." Schiller took a sip of tea at just the right temperature and said, "Which do you think is more painful, a person who has a mental illness or a person whose personality has completely collapsed and is even unable to think?" ”

Bruce pursed his lips, he thought about it seriously, but he felt that he couldn't compare, because he hadn't had a personality breakdown, and he didn't know what it was like to not be able to take care of himself and not be able to think.

"The doctor thinks it's better to be a mentally ill person than to be a crazy monster for the rest of his life." Schiller gave a conclusion, and Bruce couldn't argue with it.

"When the normal personality collapses, there needs to be an external force to help Schiller re-establish the order of the personality, but no matter how powerful the psychiatrist is, he is another person, and there is no way to directly enter the consciousness, so it is better to change the method."

"What do you mean ......"

"The doctor stimulated me in some ways to make me relapse in a state of personality breakdown, and guided me to reorganize my chaotic thinking in the absence of normality and continuous illness, and then build an orderly personality again."

Bruce's eyes widened slowly, and he said in disbelief, "Can this really be done?" ”

"I know it sounds a bit unrealistic, but you have to understand that Schiller is very special, because of his specialness. That's what happened to him, but it's because of his special nature that he gets the treatment. ”

After saying that, Schiller slowly put down the teacup. Lean back in the chair and say:

"In other words, it was I who helped Schiller build the entire tower of mind, tidy up all the broken personalities, witness their birth, give them names, and teach them how to regain control of this body - I am their teacher and father, and I am the real one, Professor."

Bruce slowly lowered his head, exhaled a breath and said, "In other words, the psychiatrist's treatment of Schiller is actually completely ineffective...... No, I mean, the psychiatrist actually only treats Schiller's broken normalcy and does not treat his pathology at all? ”

"That's not accurate." Schiller shook his head and looked at Bruce and said, "Where the hell have you read your books?" Is there any psychiatrist in this world who dares to say that he can cure autism? This is an incurable disease. ”

"Most of the autistic people you see who are no different from ordinary people are acting, or in other words, teaching autistic people how to act like ordinary people is the most formal treatment for autism."

"But just because he performs like an ordinary person doesn't mean that he is an ordinary person, and his sickness can be covered up by normal performances, nor does it mean that it doesn't exist."

"You must be disappointed now, but I still have to tell you that so far, the cause of autism is still unknown, and it is not a simple psychological problem, it may be a brain lesion."

Schiller got up from the sofa, walked to the cabinet behind the glass screen wall, and said while sorting out the newspaper: "Don't say that you can cure Schiller, but if you can completely cure any autistic patient in this world, you will be given the world's top medical awards, and you will write the next textbooks on psychology, psychiatry, and behavior." ”

"But......" Bruce felt himself breathing, he stood up, turned to Schiller, and said, "But even if you represent autism, you shouldn't ...... I mean, autistic people don't get ...... either."

Bruce never mentioned a word, because just mentioning this word already crossed his moral bottom line a bit.

But Schiller seemed to understand what he meant, and he walked back to the couch and sat down with a newspaper in his hand, opened it and shook it, glanced at Bruce from above the newspaper, and said, "You're worried." Will I be like Professor Pig Noodles? ”

Although Bruce did not answer, his expression was full of affirmation, Schiller glanced at him, Bruce saw the negative answer in Schiller's eyes, Bruce just wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, Schiller's next sentence made him even more creepy.

"Don't worry, I don't like pork."

At this moment, Bruce felt like he had been poured from head to toe with a basin of ice water, and cold sweat was breaking out from every pore on his body, something he hadn't felt in years since a gunshot in the alley.

But then he thought of a more serious problem - if the sick Schiller eats human flesh, but he does not see ordinary people as his kind, but considers them pigs, then he eats ......

Bruce didn't feel like he was being doused with cold water anymore, he felt like he was frozen in a piece of ice, cold and unable to move.

And when he raised his eyes to look at Schiller again, he saw very clearly a desire in Schiller's eyes staring at him, which was the most primitive instinct of human beings - appetite.

It hadn't been years since Bruce had sprang up from his chair at such speed, and he took a few quick steps back to the side of the couch.

He didn't expect that it was more terrifying and terrifying than he thought - Schiller never saw ordinary people as human beings, and the food he liked was the same natural murderer as he was.

Schiller is the hunter of hunters, the butcher of butchers.

And then, Bruce thought of an even more terrible fact, the inexplicable contact between the serial killers came suddenly, but there was a convergence of hearts, completely illogical, but the bold action of Schiller as a target, who organized it?

Seeing Schiller's very distracted eyes at the banquet and his now extremely focused demeanor, Bruce didn't even need to linger on the question in his mind for a second, the answer was already very obvious.

"Sorry, Professor, I have something else to do, I'll go first" Bruce turned and walked out the door.

It's not that he's worried about what Schiller thinks of him, it's just that he has to fight crime and get those serial killers to go back right away, and they'll go to jail for their crimes, but not for them.

A "whoosh" sound came from behind, and Bruce instinctively dodged sideways and rolled on the ground, but at the moment when he was about to stand up, he was kicked hard in the shoulder, and Bruce fell directly to the ground.

And the moment he turned over, he saw Schiller walking over, carrying a cold boning knife in his hand.

"For the sake of you being my student, if you die arrogantly it will be very distressing, leave 1000 ml of blood, and you can leave."

Seeing Schiller's approaching gesture with his knife, Bruce finally remembered why arrogance had conjured up so many serial murderers in his dreams and made him play escape games for months on end.

With a "poof", the boning knife slashed Bruce's arm, and blood splattered, staining the left half of Schiller's shirt, and the batrang followed by blood, leaving a wound on Schiller's left shoulder, and the blood of the two overlapped, dyeing the shirt crimson.

But the moment the batrang was thrown, Bruce remembered that when he first saw the sick, the sickly Schiller put his finger into the deep wound.

If Bruce remembers correctly, at that time, the expression on Schiller's face was enjoyment.

He's a pain-loving madman.

Bruce rolled to his feet, clutching his arms and backing away, but he had been cornered by the door.

Bruce grabbed the chair by the door and blocked the boning knife, Schiller used his arm to press the back of the knife against the leg of the chair, and picked it out, and the chair flew out.

With a "bang", the knife was stuck in the wall less than three centimeters from Bruce's right ear.

Bruce's blue eyes, when they appeared on the reflective knife surface, were like the moon falling on the sea of Gotham, and like a lighthouse on a foggy night, bright, clear, and fearful.

There was no way back in the room, so Bruce immediately pulled the door open and tried to run into the hallway.

Even if it might leave him with an extra wound on his back, the experience of battling many horrific murderers has taught him that sometimes, blood must be traded for space.

But as soon as he opened the door, he collided directly with a small figure, and Hallie covered her nose and glared at Bruce and said, "Why are you here again?" Get out of the way, I've got something ......"

"Nope! You're okay! ”

As soon as Bruce finished speaking, he watched as Schiller turned his gaze to Hallie's face.

Bruce dragged Hallie behind his back, but just as Schiller was about to slowly move his gaze back to his face, a stout figure suddenly appeared at the end of the corridor.

Bruce turned his head and saw Professor Pigface's terrifying pig's head.

He cursed in his heart about the efficiency of the Gotham Police Department, but when he went to see Schiller again, he found that the blood-stained knife was missing at some point.

Schiller regained his suave appearance, reached out to straighten his tie, and even took the initiative to push the door open, made a gesture of please to Professor Pig-Face, and said, "Please come in." ”

Bruce was sure that Professor Pig-Faced hadn't seen that scene at all, because he just walked in.

And Bruce was more certain that the second before Schiller turned to walk into the room, the eyes were telling him, "Don't come to ruin my good deeds." ”

"Wait a minute." Bruce stopped Schiller's action of closing the door with an arrow step, and forcibly pulled a crack in the door that Schiller had closed, and then squeezed in.

Bruce saw the one who was walking in the front, and Professor Pig-Faced looked back at him with a look of disgust, obviously this was another person who knew the identity of Bruce's vigilante, but Bruce said quickly:

"Professor, I don't think you should be around such a dangerous murderer, it could be dangerous!"

There was a hint of doubt in Professor Pigface's eyes, because Bruce's eyes were fixed on him when he said this.

"What's wrong with your arm?" Schiller's worried eyes fell on Bruce's arm, and Bruce used his uninjured arm to block Hallie, who was trying to hit the door, with all his might, and gritted his teeth and said:

"Nothing, I paddled it myself."

"Then you better go back and heal." Schiller took another step.

"But I'm fine! Professor! …… Thank you! ”

When you level up, but the monster also upgrades .jpg

(End of chapter)