Chapter 171: The Long Easter (Six)

"The condition of the patient in Room 2 still requires observation. Also, the medication dosage for the two patients on the fourth floor was adjusted yesterday—go get the prescription from Nurse Jenny. And pay special attention to Room 13; his arm joint dislocated during his struggle yesterday..."

1200ksw.

Schiler, in a white coat, strode quickly down the corridor, giving instructions to the nurse behind him. When he entered the office, Brand was dozing with closed eyes on the sofa. At the sound, he jolted awake, sneezed, and said in a hoarse voice: "You're here? How are the patients?"

Schiler shook his head, set down the patient file, and said: "Not optimistic. Five more were admitted yesterday. One Ma Lei patient's symptoms are extremely severe—I still need to go see him."

"Go ahead. I'll handle things here."

Brand stood up and walked to the coffee machine to pour himself a cup. Schiler said: "Give me an espresso too... two, actually. I'm exhausted."

"You're only feeling tired now? Thank God! You've been working over fifty hours straight, haven't you?"

Schiler yawned and said: "It's fine. Once I finish handling that boy's case, I'll sleep."

With that, he took the coffee from Brand's hand and left.

Arriving at a ward on the fifth floor, he pushed open the door. The Ma Lei patient on the bed, like a wild beast suddenly awakened, began thrashing wildly. Had his arms not been strapped to the rails, he might have already leapt up and lunged at Schiler.

Schiler paid no mind to his reaction, stepping to the bedside and frowning as he observed him.

Schiler knew he couldn't diagnose this as a normal psychiatric case—because all admissions over the past day and night had presented identical symptoms, clearly not natural in origin.

If not natural, the cause might be bizarre, possibly entangled with occult elements. Such cases are nearly impossible to analyze with modern medicine, yet so far, Schiler had found no effective treatment.

As Schiler pondered, a brainwave came from the gray mist within him: "I can..."

"What? What can you do?"

"You want to examine him, right? I can do it..."

Schiler asked, puzzled: "How exactly will you examine him?"

"Touch him with one hand..."

Schiler followed the gray mist's instruction, extending a hand to touch the boy's shoulder. The boy twisted his head violently, snarling as if to bite Schiler's hand—but as a barely perceptible gray mist drifted into his body, the boy gradually calmed.

A cascade of brainwaves fed back into Schiler's mind, granting him a more intuitive perspective on certain bodily functions.

Schiler thought inside his mind: "When did you learn this?"

"Take your hand away."

Schiler hesitated, then withdrew his hand—and suddenly, he saw through the boy's eyes: the ceiling above him.

Schiler said, surprised: "Did you split?"

The symbiote sent a stream of negative emotions. Then, a tendril of gray mist drifted out of the boy's body and returned to Schiler. The second perspective vanished, as if it had never existed. The symbiote showed no change—no new consciousness had emerged.

"I'm different from them," the symbiote's voice came. "I am mist. Mist is never whole..."

Through the symbiote's brainwaves, Schiler understood: because of its form, the gray mist differed greatly from other symbiotes. Since it existed as vapor, it could not split—or rather, it was always split.

Other symbiotes were also composed of symbiote factors, but Venom's factors were bonded together; once separated, they became two independent entities.

But the gray mist's factors were never connected to begin with—they were dispersed. Even if cut apart, they merely drifted farther apart, remaining one whole.

"So you can't reproduce like other symbiotes?"

"Yes. If I willingly relinquish part of my factors, it becomes another symbiote."

Schiler nodded and said: "So you can attach to others. The part attached still follows your commands, and I can indirectly control them through you?"

The gray mist sent an affirmative brainwave: "But the factor control is limited. It cannot perform precise movements—only sense the host's state. And the farther away, the weaker the feedback."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Schiler asked.

"I couldn't before. Recently, there's been food everywhere. I ate too much, so now I can."

"Food everywhere??" Schiler asked, puzzled. "You don't mean the rain? Does the rain affect you too?"

"Like alcohol," the symbiote replied. "Like Fear Toxin—delicious and filling."

Schiler rubbed his chin. If rain affected symbiotes, then it must contain substances that stimulated them.

He thought further: Venom, that poor bastard, really missed out. If he'd come back to Gotham, the whole city would be food—why bother with those chocolate balls?

Later, Schiler had the gray mist reattach to the boy for a full examination. He discovered an unknown substance in the boy's blood—the root cause of his madness and hyperactivity.

Schiler did not act rashly. He didn't know the substance's origin. Out of responsibility to the patient, he decided to identify the source before treating. He withdrew the gray mist and opted to observe further.

As Schiler tried using the gray mist to soothe the patient's emotions, Victor's phone rang again. On the other end, Victor said: "Come quickly. Something's happened."

Hearing Victor's serious tone, Schiler returned to the office, changed clothes, and headed to Gotham University.

As he entered the campus gate, he saw two police cars parked on the avenue. Further ahead, a crowd had gathered in a tight circle. Police shouted behind barricades: "Clear out!! Everyone, clear out!!"

Schiler approached. The young officer moved to stop him, but an older officer grabbed his arm and said: "Professor Rodriguez? Chief Gordon will be here soon. Go right in."

Schiler nodded in thanks and hurried past the barricade. He saw Victor standing beside a police car, one officer questioning him.

Schiler walked over and asked: "What happened?"

He glanced behind the car. There, on the ground, lay a figure—blood splattered everywhere.

"Xie Dun is dead," Victor said, turning back to the scene. "He fell from his office balcony. Eighth floor. Died on impact."

"Tell me exactly what happened."

Victor shook his head. "I don't know. You know how understaffed we are. So many students are falling ill—I've been juggling treating patients and tracking their commonalities."

Victor glanced at the officer scribbling notes. "I was drowning in work when Xie Dun suddenly called, asking me to come to his office. I dropped everything and rushed to the admin building..."

"I entered as usual. When I reached the fourth floor, I saw a shadow fall from the window. Then—*thud*. I looked down again and saw Xie Dun's body."

"Honestly..." Schiler patted Victor's shoulder. "Your account just increased your suspicion by thirty percent. Don't say that when Gordon arrives."

"But it's the truth..."

"You could polish it a bit. Say you and Xie Dun had a pleasant phone conversation—he insisted you come to his office for a chat. You resisted, but finally gave in and went to the admin building..."

"Then, due to a structural crack, the power went out. The elevator was out. You had to climb the stairs. As a frail researcher, you collapsed on the third floor, gasping. You leaned against the windowsill on the fourth—and saw a dark shadow fall."

"You were terrified, trembling. Without thinking, you ran out of the stairwell and called the police."

"Don't forget..." Schiler reminded Victor: "You're an outsider. Only Gotham locals stay calm after a murder."

"Since I came here, I realized this place suits me," Victor shrugged. "I don't know why, but I feel nothing around corpses or blood. Too calm, maybe."

Another police car pulled up. Gordon burst out, his eyes locking immediately on Schiler. He took a deep breath, strode forward, glanced at the body, then turned to Schiler with a skeptical stare.

"It wasn't me. The witness is right here," Schiler pushed Victor forward. Victor explained: "This is what happened..."

Victor repeated Schiler's revised version. Gordon frowned. "That's ridiculous. How could—wait. You're an outsider, right?... That explains it."

"Gotham locals see someone fall and just curse, then complain about the blood and brains staining the pavement, demanding we clean it up immediately..."

"Regardless, let's inspect the scene."

They circled the police car and entered the barricaded area. Xie Dun's body lay sprawled in the middle of the road.

Schiler glanced and said: "He got unlucky. Fell right onto a sharp edge of the cracked pavement. Otherwise, he might've survived."

Gordon waved. Officers began surveying the scene, then loaded the body onto a vehicle for autopsy.

Gordon looked up from the spot where Xie Dun fell. The eighth floor of the admin building still glowed with light. He turned to Schiler and Victor: "I'm sorry, gentlemen. Standard procedure forbids your involvement. Witness Victor Fris must come with us..."

"As for you, Professor Rodriguez, you'll need to await a summons."

To Gordon's surprise, neither objected. Victor cooperated without protest, boarding the police car. Schiler made no attempt to interfere—he simply turned and left.

Before leaving, Schiler told Gordon: "I'm happy to assist with your investigation, but Arkham Psychiatric Hospital is overflowing with patients. I must prioritize their safety..."

"I heard many Gotham University students are falling ill. What's going on?" Gordon asked.

"I have a lead, but haven't confirmed it yet. Don't look at me like that—I have no reason to create trouble. They go mad, and I'm the one who treats them. I haven't slept in fifty hours."

"Professor Rodriguez, I must remind you—I will uncover the truth of this murder..." Gordon paused, then added: "I hope the trail I follow doesn't lead back to you."