Chapter 2224: Late Autumn in the Golden City (Part 24)

"Is that what you think? Professor." Pamela asked a strange question, and then she said, "Is this your true feeling? Or a model of some psychological application?"

"It could be both. Usually, most people don't care when they get a certain feeling. They won't remember it, and they are not good at expressing it. And psychology makes me have more of these than them, although it can't count as deception."

"Processed truth."

"Very correct, Miss."

Shiler leaned forward, took the water pot on the bedside table further away, handed the water cup full of warm water to Pamela, stroked the hem of his suit and sat down again.

"Considering that the most important thing for you now is to keep warm, I won't open the door, but I will turn on the tape recorder used for psychological counseling to keep a file for our conversation."

Pamela didn't say anything. She was usually like this. After Shiler briefly performed a review, he found that he had almost never seen Pamela's other expressions. Most were plain, pale, and straightforward like a piece of paper.

She could even use her cold expression to completely cover up all the charm brought by her beautiful facial features and a long head of hair as bright as fire, not leaning towards any gender, just an eye contact with her face could make people feel that she was boring and dull.

Although Schiller did not really like to broadly project the images of certain characters in comics onto the living people he came into contact with, Pamela's image was somewhat too different from Poison Ivy.

Although Poison Ivy in comics isn't famous for social charm, Batman also evaluated her beauty and enchantingness, which proves that she is at least vivid and lively.

There are not many records of Poison Ivy's youth in comics. In most comics, she appears as beautiful, deadly, and a fanatical plant protectionist. This huge title that can cover up all personal charm makes comic readers know very little about her past and her growth process.

Obviously, another puzzle was placed in front of Shiler. This time it was still quite challenging, because compared to Batman, the character setting of Poison Ivy Pamela Isley was thinner.

But reality is not a comic. There must be a reason why Pamela became like this and what she will become in the future, and the reason for all this is far less famous than Batman's parents' death. To complete a complete psychological profile, Shiler still lacked too much key information.

But Pamela's state made Shiler unable to accurately judge whether it was suitable for psychological treatment now. She had this expression and temperament when she was happy, and the same when she was painful, which made it very difficult for Shiler to determine when to stop.

If there is a possibility of causing additional harm, Shiler would rather not do it. After all, this is not just simple academic research. Pamela is Shiler's student, and taking a step back, Shiler's garden still has to rely on her.

"I think I can tell you my story," Pamela took the initiative to speak, "Then you help me analyze what is going on. After the rain stops, I can help you tidy up the garden."

"Sounds very good, but I hope you don't force yourself," Shiler turned the book in his hand and said, "Even if the rain stops, you can lie here and sleep. The vitality of plants is far more tenacious than you think."

"Yes, rainstorms are never a disaster for them. Tomorrow morning you will know how much grace they have received from the disasters in human eyes."

"You will be like this too, Miss. Perhaps tomorrow morning everything will be different."

Pamela still had no expression, and she had no emotions, which made Shiler feel like he was facing a black box. He couldn't determine what kind of feedback his words received, so he had to be more cautious.

"My parents died. They offended people, ran out of Gotham, but still couldn't escape the poison hand," Pamela opened her mouth, but her attitude was completely unlike telling her own story, and the language was not concise at all.

"They were killed by enemies in the house we just bought. I was taken to the welfare home. An Indian woman named Soma picked me and took me back to her home."

"She had a very large house, but it seemed she didn't have much money. I recognized her several daughters from the group photo on the table, but each of them only had a group photo with her, which proved that they were not a family."

"She asked me to learn many things, practice standard English pronunciation, learn French and Italian, dance and play the piano. I learned them all well. She let me go to a very good middle school locally, and let me spread my story in the class and grade."

"What kind of story?"

"An orphan girl adopted by an Indian noble family. My father stayed in India to work, and my mother raised children here, possessing superior family conditions and good upbringing."

"Did you do it?"

"Yes, many people believed it, because I indeed knew a lot, and they thought my personality was like that kind of eldest lady."

Shiler nodded. He understood why it would be like this. Pamela had a kind of arrogance that didn't take any effort at all. Usually, only people with great confidence could possess this temperament.

Classmates might think this was a rich person despising poor ghosts, but in fact, Pamela just despised everyone equally.

"Someone pursued me," Pamela said, "There were two in our class, and more than ten in the whole grade. I told my foster mother, and she got their background information the next day."

"She eliminated the unsuitable ones, leaving only three, and she asked me to maintain a romantic relationship with them at the same time."

"Then how many did you choose?"

"None," Pamela blinked gently and said, "They confessed, I agreed. I did everything according to what my foster mother said, accepted their invitations for dates, put on beautiful clothes, took the flowers they sent, had dinner with them, and then within about a month, they left one after another and looked

"Do they know you have many boyfriends?"

"I don't know. My foster mother arranged all the time and cleverly avoided them coming into contact with each other. They probably still don't know even now."

"Then what do you think is the reason?"

"They say I am absent-minded."

"Do you think you are?"

"I have always been like this."

Schiller recalled briefly and discovered that the Pamela in his impression was also like this. She seemed to be doing something, but was not focused, yet one could not tell where she had placed her attention.

If it were an ordinary person, one would certainly think she was just going through the motions, which was even more infuriating than doing a bad job.

"Things like this keep repeating," Pamela said. "My foster mother picks them, I go to contact them, they leave in anger, and I go home to be scolded."

"Until..."

"Until I was almost an adult, and she still hadn't found a good partner for me, or rather, she had, but I messed them all up."

"Did she take some measures?"

"Yes, she believed that aspects of character deficiency could be compensated for with sex. She felt that if a beautiful woman's charm couldn't be sold for a good price, then perhaps her body could."

"She forced you to sell yourself?"

"Not forced. I didn't care; she told me to go, so I went."

Schiller was a bit surprised now. He looked at Pamela and said, "Has she ever instilled certain moral concepts in you?"

"Maybe, but I didn't listen carefully. In fact, I didn't care, and even now, I still don't." Pamela tilted her head slightly and said, "I have had physical contact with several partners my foster mother picked. When they touched me, I would feel a bit confused."

"Confused about what?"

"I don't understand why they were so excited."

"Sorry, Miss, I absolutely have no intention of being offensive." Schiller leaned his body back, getting as far away from Pamela as possible, and said, "This question is also absolutely academic, rather than personal small talk."

"I understand. Ask away."

"Have you never felt yourself being attracted by hormones?"

"I don't know what that is."

"What about physical and psychological excitement?"

"I don't think I have."

"Attracted to the opposite sex from an instinctive aspect?"

"No."

"The same sex?"

Pamela shook her head again.

"Alright, please continue."

"The turning point happened when we were about to begin." Pamela recalled for a moment and then said, "We walked into a room. He wanted me to take off my clothes, and just as I was preparing to do so, a woman suddenly rushed in. It was his wife."

"I don't know what happened. In short, there was screaming, roaring, shouting, and pulling. I heard a loud bang, and then the sounds started getting further and further away. I smelled the dampness of dew and the scent of flowers, and when I came to my senses, I discovered..."

"Discovered what?" Schiller leaned his body forward, looking at Pamela and asking.

Pamela, however, was uncharacteristically hesitant.

"The thing I am about to say is also completely academic." Pamela licked her lips and said, "I am absolutely not sexually harassing you."

"Yes, I understand. Please go ahead, Miss."

"I first discovered that I was very excited."

"And..."

"They were both dead."

The moment Schiller and Pamela met each other's eyes, both of them froze.

Schiller's expression slowly changed.

"Please forgive me for not being able to describe the details to you, because I don't remember them at all." Pamela swallowed, clearly recognizing that this Schiller who appeared later was the one who had cooked the moose meat.

"My memory came to an abrupt end when that woman rushed up, and when it appeared again, there was nothing left but blood all over the floor and two corpses."

"Was there blood on your hands?"

"No." Pamela shook her head and said, "But I was kneeling right in the middle of the two of them, so my legs and the hem of my skirt were stained with blood."

"And then?"

"My mother came in." Pamela took a deep breath and said, "I made a bold decision."

"You knocked her unconscious, then framed her for the deaths of the two of them, and at the same time exposed the fact that she abused you. Two corpses and one criminal, and you walked away unscathed."

Pamela nodded slowly.

"Brilliant, Miss."

"In fact, it wasn't the first time." Pamela took another deep breath and said, "This kind of thing doesn't seem to be the first time."

"'Doesn't seem to be'?"

"In my impression, before my parents hurriedly moved away with me, I also had a missing segment of memory."

"Where?"

"At home." Pamela frowned slightly and said, "Someone broke in. I saw him, the middle part of the scene disappeared, and what followed was my parents moving away with me."

"Very good. Look into my eyes, Miss."

Schiller stood up, walked a bit in front of Pamela, bent down, and tilted his head. Pamela mustered her courage, raised her eyes, and met his gaze.

Schiller's gaze focused slightly for a moment, but soon scattered again, and he also frowned.

"Am I a natural-born serial killer?" Pamela asked. Her eyes followed the back of Schiller, who had walked around the bed to the window, and she said, "Like you, feeling excited and satisfied because of it?"

"You are not."

Schiller uttered an answer that shocked Pamela.

"Why?" Pamela still couldn't help but ask.

During the time she had been in contact with Schiller, she had learned about some things in this circle: indifference, contempt, homicide, excitement—these were the basic emotional characteristics of a typical serial killer.

She had even prepared herself psychologically for this.

"You are not." Schiller repeated it again. When he turned around, the window behind him also plated him with a layer of cold light.

Pamela saw his pair of gray eyes emitting a faint light in the darkness against the backlight, like a beast in a cave, and she heard Schiller's voice echoing in the room.

"You are not... because we do not forget."