Chapter 2227

"Your biological parents once had an intersection with the deity you are currently backed by." Schiller looked at Pamela and said, "I suspect that perhaps even before you were born, you had already been chosen."

"Your parents did indeed offend someone; the enemies broke into your home, but when they opened the door, you were the first person they saw."

"There aren't that many romantic killers in this world; opening the door and shooting every living thing is the best way to silence witnesses. It is conceivable that he pulled the trigger, but you didn't die—he did."

"The moment they saw the state of his death, your biological parents realized something. It was very likely an unfulfilled vow they had made, or perhaps an unknown god they had attempted to contact. In any case, they understood that retribution had finally come knocking."

"As ordinary people, they could only take you and move, hoping that a new environment would allow them to shake off these troubles. Of course, they weren't that naive; this was merely preparation for what they would do later."

"They may have partially touched upon the occult world and known that someone could solve the mystery of the spirit behind you. They might have tried to contact these people, but the result, of course, was that the deity who chose you would not let anyone ruin his good work."

Pamela froze.

"A cross-city vendetta like this doesn't hold water. To reach this level of enmity, the Isley family should have long since had a seat before the Godfather. And if they didn't, how could the mob possibly chase them to Chicago just to kill two ordinary people?"

"Of course, your adoption was also arranged by him. The most suspicious part of it is that you once mentioned your adoptive mother attempted to conceive at the advanced age of 42, and succeeded."

"I boldly speculate that this was a turning point in your life. Previously, your adoptive mother pinned all her hopes on you and had long since ceased to expect anything of herself."

"But suddenly, she met the true love of her life and even had a child with him. A happy life was right before her eyes, but there was a redundant person in the mix."

Pamela's expression was unreadable, but she still looked away, frowning with some disgust as she said, "Whether you're using mind-reading or not, stop reading my mind. It makes me feel completely exposed, so fragile it makes me want to vomit."

"If you don't change your obsession with lunatics, I'm afraid one day you really will be completely exposed," Schiller said.

Then he continued his analysis.

"The sudden arrival of the child gave her a glimmer of hope. You became the person everyone despised because, in the past, she could only pin her hopes on you. Even if you didn't do well, she could only be secretly annoyed because she still had to rely on you."

"But now that she had new hope, she could vent all the resentment she had previously held toward you all at once. She began to constantly abuse and beat you, to the point of leaving many scars on your body."

Pamela sighed softly and said, "That crazy woman."

"Then, as expected, the father of the child in her womb disappeared, and the child couldn't be saved either. Thus, you became her only hope again, yet you still performed very poorly."

"So she finally went mad. Regardless of the cost, she wanted to use you to trade for what she wanted. She sent you to a man—a married man."

"As a result, this man's legal wife stormed in. A man who could contact your adoptive mother was likely a repeat offender, and his legal wife, pushed to the limit, naturally couldn't have come empty-handed."

"She lunged at you with a weapon, and you were completely defenseless. Thus, the scene from your childhood repeated itself: she attacked you, she fell, and you remembered nothing, always believing that you were the one who killed someone."

Pamela's brows were tightly knitted together, as if she felt Schiller's words were a fantasy, and she indeed had no evidence whatsoever.

Pamela wanted to concentrate on thinking about the clues in her life, but the high fever made her dizzy. She couldn't piece together the fragmented shards, and the more she focused, the more her head ached.

In a hazy state, she heard a voice.

"... I did it to protect you."

Very well, now the evidence was conclusive.

Pamela jumped off the bed almost instantly, threw the quilt back to its original place, and roared at the air, "Protect me?! The daughter of that damn crazy woman found me and got the media to write me up as a bitch who seduced her stepfather to frame her adoptive mother! All of this is because of you, goddamn it!"

"I'm afraid Mr. Green would say you are too judgmental," Schiller said with a smile, unhurriedly. "Shouldn't you consider this the ugliness of human nature?"

"Screw human nature! He can manipulate me into killing so many people; who knows if the conflict between my parents and that killer was stirred up by him?! Who knows if that crazy woman choosing me was also arranged by him?! And that weird stepfather and the child—it was all his doing, damn it! What does this have to do with human nature?!"

Schiller applauded.

"How brilliant, Miss. I almost took you off the main course list."

This sentence was like a basin of cold water poured over Pamela's head, instantly extinguishing her anger and making her feel chilled to the bone in the warm bedroom.

She had actually cursed in front of Schiller! And that was after offending him just moments ago with inappropriate curiosity!

Pamela instantly stepped back twice, her entire back pressed against the wall, and said, "Sorry, Professor—I mean... Sir, I think there is no need for our personal grievances to be resolved here. Perhaps we could..."

Schiller pointed lightly at the bed with his finger and said, "Lie down and rest. Your psychology professor does not wish for you to have a convulsion after a high fever."

Only then did Pamela feel that her whole body was weak. She had been supporting her body on the strength of her spirit, and once that spirit dissipated, nausea, dizziness, weakness, and cold sweat all struck at once.

But the flame of anger had not been completely extinguished, supporting her so she wouldn't collapse right there. So, she braced her hands on the edge of the bed and slowly knelt down halfway, her chest draped over the corner of the bed, her neck drooping as she dry-heaved.

She felt a pair of hands lift her up, turn her over onto the bed, apply a towel to her forehead, and feed her some warm, salty-sweet water.

"I admit this is a grievance between the two of you." Schiller's voice sounded hazy in Pamela's ear, then became lower and weaker. She felt Schiller speaking right against her ear.

"But according to the judgment of your psychology professor, your level of psychology is not sufficient to fully grasp the truth of this matter. Perhaps with my explanation, your understanding of the truth will be relatively fair."

"You must be thinking, even if he chose you, why would he do these things to you? You are very smart, Pamela. Think about what he has been guiding you to do, think about how he has been manipulating you."

The voice became increasingly muddy, swirling into a huge vortex before Pamela's eyes. She saw too many fragments of memory within it. The physical discomfort made her thoughts too chaotic, and she could barely make sense of them.

"What do you see?"

"Plants, many plants."

"And what else?"

"People."

"How is the relationship between them?"

"Terrible. Humans are always destroying plants." Pamela's chest heaved violently, but she couldn't quite open her eyes. She said, "They don't need to, but they destroy and ruin them wantonly."

"Then what about the plants?"

"They were all destroyed, all of them, a complete mess. They are wailing, I heard it, I heard it. He threw that pot of flowers into the gutter, but that was entirely his greedy fault, entirely..."

Pamela muttered in a low voice. Her body began to heat up again; clearly, the fever had returned.

Schiller brushed aside the vines spreading from under the bed, wiped Pamela's sweaty forehead with a towel, and then leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"Your parents' gullibility and rashness, your adoptive mother's abuse and madness—they were all just so he could let you see the ugliness of human nature and completely lose trust in your own kind."

"Your coldness was not innate either; it was imposed upon you by him. In order to prevent you from having connections with others, so you couldn't experience emotion and love, you would never stand on the side of humanity."

"He wanted you to detach from the human group, to become lonely and helpless, so that you could only become a believer in plants..."

"Schiller, what are you doing?!!!!"

A roar came from mid-air. Countless vines twisted into a huge green phantom in Schiller's garden. The Green had descended.

Schiller, however, watched Pamela slowly straighten up, took another towel from the side to wipe the back of his hand, and said without looking back, "What am I doing? I am, of course, retelling your conspiracy."

"What conspiracy could I possibly have?!!" The Green roared: "I didn't even know her before she went to college! Wasn't it you who negotiated with me to make her the avatar of plants?!!!"

Schiller nodded lightly, "That's right, these were all made up by me, or they could be interpreted from a more professional perspective—this is 'hypnosis'."

The Green was simply shocked by his shamelessness.

About half an hour ago, The Green had some things he wanted his avatar to do, so he tried to contact Pamela, only to find he couldn't reach her.

This wasn't the first time; usually, it meant Pamela was busy, and The Green wasn't in a hurry, so he went to do other things.

But after a while, he still couldn't reach her. The Green cast his gaze directly at Pamela, only to find he couldn't see her at all, seeing only a mass of hazy fog.

The Green's heart skipped a beat.

He rushed over in a hurry, only to see Schiller wholesale dumping blame, and pinning it all on his head.

This time, The Green wasn't lying. Although Poison Ivy did have her special qualities and The Green had long looked upon her with favor, one thing had to be made clear: Poison Ivy was a plant conservationist first, and only then was she chosen by The Green.

The Green wasn't so desperate that he would forcibly drag someone over to be an avatar when the Pamela of this universe hadn't even been exposed to plant toxins or finished her studies—Swamp Thing was still alive, after all.

Yet, in Schiller's version of the story, it became a tale of The Green destroying Pamela's family to cultivate an extremist plant conservationist. The Green couldn't take the fall for that.

And what made The Green's head smoke with anger was that it was Schiller who had negotiated with him to make Pamela, who hadn't yet been exposed to plant toxins, an avatar of The Green.

Of all the universes, the Pamela of this universe was the first to start the job. The Green didn't even require her to work full-time; he gave her a lifetime contract for part-time work and even paid her in advance. Was there a more conscientious boss in the world?

And in the end, I became the mastermind? Is there no justice left? Is there no reason left?

Wait, The Green suddenly remembered: when he looked at Pamela just now, did he see a mass of fog?

Who was it that said the dragon from the Source of Darkness had formed some kind of Dark Council, and besides a bubble and a shadow, there was a mass of fog in it?

The Green suddenly realized: Barbatos, it's you again!