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墨書 Inktalez
Until the Hypnotic Gas took effect, Freyr collapsed helplessly in the room.
The central control system activated again, extracting the Hypnotic Gas and replacing it with fresh air.
After a while, the door opened once more, and the doctors carried Freyr back to the bed, putting him in a Straightjacket before finally feeling relieved.
"Let's hurry up," the officer said, and without any further thoughts, he buried his head and walked out.
Not long after, the basement quickly became busy again. It wasn't that the recent patients were difficult for the doctors to manage; rather, all the doctors were thinking of ways to clear out the room for him.
Because they were about to confront a Neurosurgeon who not only had severe obsessive cleanliness but also never performed surgeries in messy places. For this reason, he was always accompanied by several doctors to handle patient wounds.
However, there were rumors that he had accidentally killed an important patient during surgery. At that time, he was already a leading figure in the field of neurology, and this mistake nearly ruined his reputation. Yet, it was through this error that he experienced the difference between various regions and settings. Afterward, he never operated on patients directly unless it was an extremely complicated brain surgery. Only major procedures like the Pons Varolii Disconnection Surgery could entice him.
Otherwise, he would leave his assistants to handle everything else while he would only step in for suturing after they finished their tasks.
The complexity of the Pons Varolii Disconnection Surgery was not something just any neurosurgeon could perform; after all, it could be considered a prohibited procedure.
Most importantly, this surgery was aimed at patients suffering from depression or schizophrenia. Performing such a procedure on ordinary individuals with strong emotions or thoughts could leave them like wooden dolls—unaware of their actions. They might appear to be daydreaming when in reality they could feel as if they were engaging in intense activities. Due to its irrational nature, many individuals who underwent Pons Varolii Disconnection Surgery exhibited drastically different behavioral habits afterward.
Thus, unless in special circumstances involving patients with Severe Depression or Schizophrenia, this surgery was only employed because it could help temporarily restore health by eliminating unwanted thoughts and allowing them to return to normal life.
A short while later, a helicopter landed at the airport outside headquarters.
A Medical Team dressed in white vests disembarked under the guidance of an elderly doctor. He glanced around and frowned slightly. "It's really filthy here." He wanted to leave immediately, but the helicopter had already taken off behind him, leaving no opportunity for rebuttal. This time he had no choice; either he treated the patients—after all, half of the payment had already been received—or there was no other way. Proving that if they died here, no one would know was actually simpler than he had imagined.
The helicopter pilot had received orders and deliberately took off without giving any notice.
Old Expert's forehead suddenly twitched, his expression darkening as he felt the urge to curse.
"Damn it, pulling this kind of stunt on me! Go call your specialists over here; I need to talk to them about what's going on. Is this your welcome ceremony? Are you threatening me, or do you think I won't be able to leave if I don't comply?"
Even through a thin tent, Old Expert's shouts could be heard, making all the soldiers feel somewhat uneasy.
Although he was right, ever since stepping off the plane, no one had been willing to fully comply with someone of his status. This was primarily because it had been on the aircraft; if anything went wrong, as long as Old Expert felt uncomfortable, he could terminate the Agreement at any time. Worst case, he would just return the Agreement and the money. The Military Department and the association wouldn't miss those compensation fees. Therefore, as long as Old Expert wanted to end the Agreement, he could certainly do so since the safety of individuals relied solely on him. The Military Department couldn't afford to let go of the doctors from the Medical Team who had already boarded the plane.
The key issue was that in someone else's territory, one still needed to keep a low profile. No matter who he was—even a leading figure in the medical field—once he signed the Agreement with the Military Department, he had to submit to their strict control. First and foremost, this area frequently encountered Parasite Beasts, so personal safety had to be prioritized.
Moreover, even if his shouting nature remained unchanged in a different setting, no one would blame him; they could simply choose to ignore him.
"Dear Doctor, hello. I am a military psychologist from the Military Department. Since the commander is occupied with military affairs, let me take you around for a bit," said a figure approaching the Medical Expert Team.
It was a graceful woman with blonde hair and blue eyes—a psychologist whose current appearance was captivating enough that no man could resist her charm, especially those who were introverted or older.
Indeed, she was the psychologist who diagnosed conditions and managed to hold her own in conversations with high-ranking officials. In the entire Military Department, there probably wasn't anyone as brave as her to propose conditions to a commander. Although other doctors envied her behavior, she had proven herself competent without any major mistakes or biases, which made her presence all the more remarkable.
"Hmph! You all know someone came to meet me. Sister, we're here for treatment; please inform your commander that what’s going on now is ridiculous—are you trying to scare us?" Old Expert huffed, his emotions getting somewhat out of control. He had experienced many significant events before; handling brain injuries for the Military Department was something he had done numerous times. Yet every time he performed surgery, he was treated with utmost respect and even hosted lavish banquets until he finished and left.
He thought everything would be like in those military districts where they would elevate him. It was indeed due to Old Expert's temperament that leaned towards being somewhat vain.
This was why Colonel Sam was reluctant to host such a crowd; maintaining an upright image meant that if outsiders saw him falter in front of others, how could he maintain that facade?
It was decided that only one person would be sent to receive the Medical Expert Team, and the chosen candidate was a capable psychologist who would serve as a temporary guide.
They first went to the cafeteria for a simple meal.
The Old Expert had never seen such meager food and appeared even more disheartened.
"Is this how your meals are? Don't you find it hard to bear?" The Old Expert shook his head in lament, placing his knife and fork on the table. After taking a sip of the milk from his cup, he considered it a meal.
"Well, I think it's fine. Usually, I don't have much time to think about these things. My mind is solely focused on work and treating my patients, that's all," the psychologist replied with a smile. She didn't seem to mind how unappetizing the food was, eating it bit by bit while maintaining a polite conversation.
Her demeanor exuded warmth and approachability. As they got to know each other better, discussing the main conditions of the patients they were dealing with went smoothly.
The Old Expert was inherently a traditionalist, lacking charm with women. However, upon encountering the gentle demeanor of this traditional woman, he found himself unable to resist her warm advances. He naturally opened up about his plans in the field of neurology and future developments, as well as how he often helped Military District Soldiers with neurological injuries in the past.
Helping polio patients was also his current priority research topic.
The Old Expert spoke eloquently, while the charming psychologist encouraged him from beside her, expressing her support at appropriate moments to convey her expectations for him.
Few men could withstand the gentle assault wielded by women, so the Old Expert shared all his thoughts about the future without reservation. Consequently, any previous feelings of neglect towards headquarters quickly faded away.
With this aggressive line of questioning continuing, the Old Expert found himself speaking candidly in front of the beautiful woman, revealing all his secrets. The Expert Group accompanying him was left utterly dumbfounded; they had never expected this reserved Old Expert to possess such an understanding yet quirky side.
The physical body was merely a tool for living; no matter how long it aged, what remained unchanged was the obsession and thoughts within one's heart.
Thus, even though the Old Expert had grown old and decayed in appearance, deep down he remained an inquisitive homebody who couldn't help but be captivated by beautiful women, sharing everything with her like a child unable to contain his excitement.
He himself was unsure whether these words would be overheard by others. In any case, they even believed that the guarantees in this world held some efficacy. It was precisely because of this belief that the events following such guarantees could never become reality.
Those who followed promises simply did not exist.
Reality was harsh, and the brutality of war was forever the graveyard for those who adhered to the rules.
Understanding the mindset of Old Expert made it easier to target the attack.
Miki was originally a psychologist, capable of making reasonable counterattacks against these people's thoughts, compelling them to reveal what lay dormant in their hearts.
She could also lead them to completely lose trust in someone, storming out of the door in a fit of rage; this largely depended on her perspective.
However, Miki had already grasped a rough sense of control. Sitting across from her was an old rogue—not the kind who would make advances and say, "I like you and want to marry you," but rather a more terrifying type.
These were the people who would imprint their impressions of you in their minds, indulging in fantasies about your entire being. He was still a shut-in, lacking any real thoughts, primarily just chatting, which only made her feel more frustrated.
Those who had not been exposed to the world generally fell into two categories when conversing. One type would try hard to create a favorable atmosphere for themselves at the start, boasting about their past achievements and portraying themselves as unique individuals. However, contrary to their intentions, this type often became a conversation killer; as they talked on, it became increasingly difficult to maintain a good mood.
The other type hardly spoke at all. Because they were silent, one could hardly discern their intentions or understand their demeanor, creating an impression of someone deeply secretive and inexperienced in worldly matters.
Fortunately for psychologists, their hearts were resilient and accommodating. If one could not endure this kind of hardship or annoyance, they could never become a qualified psychologist.
After engaging in awkward small talk for quite some time, Old Expert believed he had taken control of the conversation, speaking confidently about geography and literature.
In reality, mealtime had already passed, and only a few of them remained in the cafeteria. Miki couldn't think of an appropriate way to refuse to continue talking with him; she could only pretend to be absent-minded, feigning interest while unable to fully engage in the conversation.
The keen-eyed Old Expert noticed something was off. He quickly spoke up, his tone much gentler than when he first arrived. "What's wrong, Miki? Is there something bothering you? Let's talk about it."
It was indeed time for a good chat, but not about trivial matters. Miki's frustrations were far from what Old Expert assumed; he thought it was just her monthly discomfort.
Old Expert's concern had turned him into a personal confidant, but this only irritated Miki further. After all, she couldn't reveal too much on her face. She quickly shook her head and said, "It's no use; this is a mental issue. Are you willing to help me?"
Upon hearing this, Old Expert perked up immediately, nodding slightly. "Alright, let's talk. If I can, I’m willing to help you and guide you. You can share anything with me."
"Oh? Then I really appreciate it," Miki replied with a smile, shaking her head. "Actually, it's nothing too serious. The main issue is that the patients I've been treating lately have symptoms that don't quite fit the norm. They often exhibit both aggression and depression—when they're aggressive, they lash out; when they're depressed, they become quiet and sometimes even start breaking things. Just the other day, several people got hurt because of this. I've researched a lot about these symptoms and finally discovered your expertise. You can help differentiate their thinking. I believe the Pons Varolii Disconnection Surgery could indeed be successful. I had Colonel Sam choose you from many doctors."
"Ah, aggression and violence—are you alright?" Old Expert asked nonchalantly, getting more engrossed in the conversation as he straightened his clothes to show his authority in the field of brain neurology. "The patient's condition indicates a form of subconscious schizophrenia that temporarily manifests as two personalities. If not treated promptly, it could develop into other personalities, which would be even more troublesome to deal with."
"Exactly! That's what worries me the most; it's been keeping me up at night," Miki said with a pitiful blink toward Old Expert.
"Alright then, I'll help you handle him—oh wait, I mean cure him."
With a decisive thud on the table that made it tremble slightly, Old Expert stood up and declared resolutely.
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