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Christopher's voice grew low again, his face pale as if he were returning to that eerie moment. His breathing became heavy, and his eyes were filled with an indescribable fear. He slowly continued, "The old man stood before me, his gaze cold and piercing... A faint, elusive smile played on his lips, as if he knew what I had just intended to do, yet he bore no reproach—only a deep, mocking irony."
Christopher paused for a moment, as if struggling to organize those terrifying memories, then continued, "He said to me, 'Do you know what that is? That mask... it is the most evil and darkest creation in this world. It was born to toy with the wills of others, making them willingly fall under its control.'"
Ethan's brow furrowed slightly; Christopher's words made the entire story seem increasingly bizarre and dangerous. This mask was not merely an artifact; it seemed to possess some irresistible power—a force capable of destroying one's inner self.
"The old man went on," Christopher's voice trembled with fear and helplessness, "he said, 'The power of this mask comes from people's fears and pains. What it loves most is to see people's wills crumble bit by bit, like raindrops eroding steel, rotting from the inside out until nothing remains.'"
Christopher's gaze became even more hollow, as if the old man's words still echoed in his mind, trapping him in their grasp. His hands clenched into fists, his body trembling slightly: "He said, 'It will not destroy you immediately; rather, it will slowly and silently erode your mind. You won't even realize you're crumbling; you'll only feel an irresistible despair and fear until finally... you are left with nothing but its smile.'"
Christopher's breathing quickened again, as if he had fallen back into that boundless terror: "At that moment, I had no idea how to respond; I just stood there, frozen... The old man's gaze pierced through my soul. Every word he spoke felt like a hammer striking my will; I felt myself slowly sinking into an abyss of darkness..."
Ethan sat in his chair with his hands folded on his knees, his gaze focused intently on Christopher, wearing a serious expression of attentive listening. His demeanor appeared professional and composed, as if he were fully immersed in Christopher's story—experiencing every detail alongside the eerie cabin, the malevolent mask, and the mysterious old man.
Yet deep inside Ethan felt an unusual calmness, even a hint of boredom. He sensed an undeniable weariness creeping in. He had heard too many stories like this. Since becoming a psychologist, people from all walks of life had walked into his office daily, each bringing their own self-proclaimed unique tales and experiences—but to him, the essence of these stories was always the same.
Christopher's words continued to reverberate in the air; those descriptions of masks, evil powers, and inner collapse struck at the space around them. However, deep within Ethan's heart, all of it seemed filtered into silent background noise. His professionalism required him to display complete attention, but he knew this was merely another person confronting their own inner abyss and conjuring up illusory fears.
"Human psychology is truly fascinating..." Ethan couldn't help but sigh inwardly. He understood that the human brain possesses extraordinary power—it can transform internal fears and pressures into tangible illusions that can ensnare individuals completely. This self-created reality—no matter how bizarre the story or terrifying the illusion—was merely a projection of one's inner turmoil. Ethan had long grown accustomed to these narratives; whether they involved ghosts or evil spirits or mysterious masks, their roots always lay in the darkness and pressure deep within.
"Once you delve too deep..." Ethan mused silently. He understood that when someone becomes trapped in their own created fears, they would ultimately be consumed by their own minds. The power of psychology is not only formidable; it is also perilous. Once someone loses themselves in an illusory world, they can only fall into an inescapable abyss from which escape becomes nearly impossible.
Christopher's words still echoed in the air, but Ethan was already weary of it all. His thoughts drifted for a moment back to countless instances when he faced similar issues. Whether it was this "evil mask" or some "eerie smile," to him it was merely another variant of a psychological dilemma. Each patient had different fears and stories, yet their conclusions often led them down similar paths.
Ethan nodded slightly, pretending to ponder Christopher's words, but in reality, he had already drawn his own conclusions about the story. He just needed to wait for the right moment to pull Christopher out of this self-created abyss, a process he had gone through countless times before.
Christopher's body continued to tremble, his words coming out in fits and starts, as if each sentence carried immense pressure. However, as he described the bizarre scene, suddenly, things took a turn. He recalled, his voice filled with confusion: "The old man... he suddenly started laughing, that laughter became loud and sharp... filled with mockery and sarcasm, as if everything that had just happened was merely a joke to him."
Christopher's eyes widened, still able to remember the abrupt change at that moment. "He looked at me, laughing almost uncontrollably, and then said to me: 'Kid, I was just joking earlier; you actually believed it? How could there be such strange things in this world!'" Christopher mimicked the old man's tone, a hint of trembling fear in his voice.
Ethan listened quietly, feeling that this was a distortion of Christopher's subconscious, yet maintaining a professional calm on the surface.
"He said that the mask was just something he carved for fun; it had no mysterious power at all." Christopher's tone was filled with confusion, as if he couldn't comprehend the sudden twist. He recalled how the old man's strange smile gradually faded with his words, replaced by a kind and gentle expression, as if all the bizarre and eerie moments were merely an illusion.
"His face... suddenly became so kind, like a friendly elder smiling warmly at me." Christopher's tone began to unravel, clearly shaken by the stark contrast. "The previous eeriness and strangeness, along with those bizarre symbols, seemed to vanish in that instant... as if they were just a joke or... an illusion."
He gripped the armrest tightly, his voice trembling more: "I didn't know how to react; my mind was filled with confusion and fear... Should I believe him? Or... was all of this some deeper trap?" Christopher's tone was laced with unease, as if he couldn't determine the boundary between reality and illusion.
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