Chapter 231: Loki (Part 2)

Loki admitted he had long resented Odin's favoritism, but when the object of that favoritism became himself, he felt an unworthy dread—and now, that dread had deepened into profound confusion, because an alien diagnostic machine told him he wasn't even an Aesir.

Odin's legendary fame was not earned by sitting on a throne; he waged war across the cosmos, crushed the Nine Realms, and set foot on every branch of Yggdrasil, making every enemy tremble beneath his thunder—from the perspective of conquered tribes, Odin was unquestionably a tyrant.

Odin could also be called a racialist; he showed no mercy to anyone outside the Aesir, at least in Loki's understanding.

So the question arises: if he is not Odin's biological son, nor even an Aesir, why has Odin suddenly treated him so well?

Loki leaned against the headboard, one arm across his forehead; even he thought this question of his was absurd—he had somehow come to question why Odin had been so kind to him.

In the apartment's living room, Thor finally figured out the electric clothes rack and successfully hung up his work uniform, when he heard the door to Loki's bedroom creak open and turned to see Loki standing in the doorway of his own room.

"What's wrong with you?" Thor asked, deeply puzzled.

"I want to ask you something," Loki said, looking at Thor. "I received my divine office before you, and I can freely enter and leave Asgard, my powers were not stripped, my weapons were not taken, and I even have the energy to mock you…"

"When you learned this fact, did you think Odin was being biased?"

"Of course!" Thor glared at Loki. "I just can't understand how you got the divine office first—what battle merits do you have?"

He yanked sharply at the collar of his work uniform, as if venting rage, and muttered bitterly: "In power and combat prowess, I'm stronger than you—how could the Allfather…"

He exhaled sharply through his nose, paused, then suddenly deflated like a punctured balloon: "Fine, I've figured it out—I caused trouble, didn't I? He was furious, so he exiled me here and gave you the divine office so you could come mock me…"

Thor lifted one arm. "Well, he succeeded. Now the only question I have every week is whether my paycheck can buy one more case of beer. I'm no different from these ordinary mortals—even worse, I dare only order small portions of fried chicken…"

"You won. Are you happy now?"

Loki stood by the door, watching Thor's expression, speechless.

"Why has your supposedly brilliant brain never managed to convince you he's just a one-track idiot?" Venom asked him.

"The diagnostic report shows some issues with your brain," Venom's tone suddenly grew lighter. "Fortunately, I know an excellent psychologist who might resolve your endless confusion and doubts—since you've got nothing better to do…"

"A psychologist?" Loki's voice held doubt. "Asgard doesn't have such a profession."

"Trust me, it'll be very effective."

Half an hour later, Shieler picked up a new medical file from the shelf beside him and asked: "Name?"

Loki was distracted; Shieler asked again, and only then did he answer: "Loki."

"Surname?"

Loki hesitated, then said: "Odinson."

"Your pronunciation of that surname is unusual. Given your current English proficiency, this isn't a mispronunciation—do you have some issue with this surname?"

"So your human psychologists just keep asking questions and making you answer them?"

"If you want treatment, cooperate with me—not try to take control," Shieler wrote in the file without looking up. "This isn't a business negotiation—you don't need to seize initiative. I'm not your enemy. Don't try to manipulate me with wordplay."

"This is novel," Loki said, placing both hands on the table and leaning forward slightly, adopting a confident posture.

"You seem accustomed to this method—always trying to seize control in every conversation. It's usually beneficial, but there are exceptions."

Loki opened his mouth. "No, not always—at least not when facing…"

He shook his head, as if unwilling to speak that name.

"Why won't you say your father's name?"

Shieler noticed Loki's fingertips twitch slightly at the word "father," then heard him say: "Because he might not be…"

Ai Yue Shuxiang

"Not what?"

"He might not be my father," Loki said, feigning casualness—but the muscles in his neck tensed, stiffening his entire shoulder. Shieler glanced up at him.

"What did you feel when you said that?" Shieler asked, watching him. "Perhaps the answer you seek lies within that feeling."

Loki's fingertip tremors spread to his hand, then his wrist and forearm—but vanished in an instant.

"You seem unwilling to accept this truth, yet you have no reason to reject it—yet you still refuse. Why?"

"I don't know," Loki's voice grew hoarse.

"I don't need you to reveal all your secrets, but you can't say nothing—especially now. You have many things you want to say, many questions you want to ask."

"What, are you still fantasizing about a better listener? Maybe I should call Strange and ask if Odin's woken up yet…"

"No, no…" Loki instinctively denied it.

"Every time you mention Odin, you seem afraid. Why?" Shieler tilted his head, watching him.

"No one fears the Allfather less."

"Listen, this isn't an exam. I'm not asking you to find a perfect answer to please me," Shieler said, exasperated.

"When I ask you a question, ask yourself. Give yourself an answer inside. If you're willing to tell me your true answer, the therapy will be more effective. If you're not, that's fine too."

Loki fell silent for a long time, then slumped his shoulders and exhaled. "I do fear him—because of his majesty and power. More importantly… I'm not Thor."

"Thor can fear him nothing—no matter what he does, the Allfather will clean up his messes. This time is no different."

"But I can't," Loki said, pressing his fingertips against the table, leaving a faint impression. He stared at his fingers. "I can't afford to make mistakes like Thor—especially not stupid ones."

His lips moved slightly. "He won't tolerate me."

"I must remain reverent," Loki's voice began to emerge from its tangled emotions; his thoughts seemed to return to order, growing more focused.

"To the Allfather, I am not special. I can't even be sure I matter as much as those brave Asgardian warriors."

Shieler adjusted his grip on the pen. "Because the relatives you value refuse to give you clear feedback, you've continually lowered your expectations, convincing yourself that as long as he shows no overt hostility, you can just get by."

"But that's not a solution—especially with a clear comparison. Self-deception cannot last."

Loki pressed one hand against his brow, speaking dazedly: "But now, I've become the object of that favoritism—and I've just realized he may have been right all along… because I'm not his biological son…"

Shieler shook his head. "There's some confusion in your thinking. Blood relation and favoritism aren't necessarily connected."

Shieler explained: "The surface logic says: if you're not his biological son, then his neglect is understandable. But if you're not his biological son, how did you become his son in the first place?"

"The backstory may be complex, but one fact remains unchanged: your father must have found you somewhere. We don't know his feelings when he took you in—but the fact is, he knew you weren't his blood, yet he raised you anyway."

"If his purpose in raising you was to favor your brother and ignore you, then why did he take you in at all?"

"Alright, suppose there's some hidden benefit—perhaps raising you brings him some advantage, driving him to adopt you while secretly resenting having another son, so he deliberately favors Thor to neglect you."

"If that's true, then you have no reason to agonize—just uncover the conspiracy behind it and seek revenge."

Shieler propped his cheek on his hand and looked at Loki. "You should've thought of this possibility the moment you learned the truth. So ask yourself: what exactly are you still agonizing over?"

Loki fell silent.

His gaze grew calm. "I tried to convince myself his kindness lately was just petty favors. I speculated many possible conspiracies, even devised several plans to investigate my true origins. Now, I should be standing on the Rainbow Bridge…"

Loki's eyes moved downward, as if thinking deeply. "But I'm here because when I was about to act on those plans, when I was about to take that step in the opposite direction, I realized…"

His voice sank to a whisper, like a pebble blown to the edge of a cliff. His fist slowly clenched, and he said, incredulous: "... didn't want to do it."

"Why do you think that is?"

Loki shook his head, looking at Shieler. "You're the doctor, aren't you?"

Shieler spun the pen in his hand. "That's the common misunderstanding of psychologists. Most of the time, we're just listeners—we don't hand out answers."

"Or rather, many people already have the answer inside them—they just refuse to admit it, so they come to doctors hoping for a different outcome. Sometimes we see this, but we don't expose it—because not everyone can bear the shock."

"Do you think you can?"

"I…" Loki tilted his head, murmuring. "I think… I can…"

"Alright, perhaps you've realized it too," Shieler said, looking at Loki. "Your resentment toward Odin's injustice and your jealousy of Thor cannot mask your longing for kinship."

"Whether kinship truly exists or not, you've deceived yourself for years—and blood ties were the crucial pillar of that self-deception."

"Today, that pillar shattered—and your instinctive reaction wasn't to uncover the truth and rightfully seek revenge, but to desperately scramble for another pillar…"

"You suddenly realized you're weaker than you thought, more easily compromised, more willing to drown in illusions you've woven for yourself. You're less clever, decisive, and cruel than you believed—even a possible grand conspiracy and hatred couldn't make you commit."

"As long as your nominal relatives give you a crumb of sweetness, you scramble to find excuses to deceive yourself and get by…"

"You realize you're more like the ordinary people you've always looked down on."

"Or rather, more like a dog chasing after scraps of meat…"

"Enough."

————EXTRA NOTES————

The protagonist finally started working.

If only I could work at this frequency too.