Chapter 262

Having been frightened by Cobblepot and frozen by Victor, Hugo still refused to give up; he thought this might also be an extremely improbable coincidence—two geniuses with unique conscious spaces coming together and becoming master and disciple. Though the likelihood was minuscule, it wasn't impossible.

Aside from these two, the most recent person with a treatment record was Yin Wensi Falcone.

When he saw that surname, Hugo hesitated, but still decided to invite him over; he figured that if he took no aggressive action and merely took a glance, he wouldn't provoke the famed Don.

Yin Wensi's condition was similar to Cobblepot's—he was unaware of Shiler's resignation and was cooperative with the follow-up request. When he arrived at Hugo's office, as before, Hugo had him lie on the chair, activated the machine, and stuck the patches to his own head.

Upon entering Yin Wensi's conscious space, Hugo froze again, because inside was a grand theater.

That wasn't unusual—it was the same as Cobblepot's case—but the problem was, beside the theater stood a half-built old manor.

Two buildings were one thing, but this one was still under construction; as Hugo entered, a figure stepped out from the ongoing construction site and sized him up: "Who are you? How did you get in here?"

Suddenly, his expression changed. "Are you a killer?"

Hugo saw the man's hand twitch, then calm again. The man said: "No—if he wanted me dead, he'd come himself…"

At that moment, Hugo realized this entity within Yin Wensi's conscious space seemed different from Yin Wensi himself. He asked: "... issociative identity?"

"Correct. You're not a psychologist, are you?"

Hugo sensed dangerous traits emanating from the man, so he spoke as calmly as possible: "Yes. I'm conducting hypnotherapy on you. What's your name?"

The man studied Hugo. "I'm Alberto. Hypnotherapy? I've never heard of this being part of Yin Wensi's treatment plan…"

"I'm the new psychologist. My method is like this. Don't be tense—I'm just confirming your current mental state is normal…"

"Fine. Don't interfere with my work. My house is only half-built. Go explore the building across the way."

Hugo carefully examined the half-built house. He found it astonishingly detailed—even the unstacked bricks and the clumped cement were clearly visible.

"What are you building?"

"A house. What else?"

"Why build a house?"

Alberto looked at Hugo as if he were an idiot. "If I don't build a house, where am I supposed to live?"

This question truly stumped Hugo. The logic made perfect sense in reality, but he had no idea how to explain to this man that normal people's conscious spaces didn't require houses.

Alberto waved him off impatiently. "The person you need to examine and treat is in the building over there. Go find him. Don't bother me."

Hugo felt the man's dangerous aura growing stronger. He dared not linger, fearing further trouble, so he left the construction site and entered the theater across the way.

As soon as he stepped inside, he froze again: over a dozen Yin Wensis were rehearsing scripts on stage, and absurdly, the audience seats were filled with spectators.

Even more absurdly, among the spectators was Shiler.

Hugo hesitated, unsure whether to enter, for he sensed immense danger in the backs of those spectators.

He swallowed hard and stopped advancing, silently backing out.

He didn't even dare press the button—he ended the journey through Yin Wensi's conscious space. When Yin Wensi sat up, he yawned and stretched, feeling he'd had a strange dream but unable to recall its details. "Thanks, Doctor. Is the session over?"

"It's over…" Hugo answered distractedly.

After Yin Wensi left, Hugo remained frozen in place, for recent events had truly exceeded his expectations.

His first step in his Gotham career had met a massive challenge: his worldview had been overturned. From any perspective, the probability of three rare geniuses appearing consecutively should be zero.

Hugo couldn't understand where the problem lay. His entire theory had been built on the premise that ordinary people's conscious spaces were chaotic, barren, and unstructured. Thus, he believed that himself, who could manifest a complete image within a conscious space, was inherently superior to ordinary humans—and therefore capable of controlling them.

But lately, it was like he'd happily moved into a new home, only to take three steps and get kicked in the face each time.

The Center Guard

Hugo, no doubt a professional psychologist, had strong self-regulation skills. He quickly emerged from this shadow and grasped a critical point: the same person—Shiler Rodriguez—had appeared in the conscious spaces of all three individuals.

Hugo now suspected Shiler might have used some unknown therapy to reshape these three people's conscious spaces. It wasn't impossible.

Hugo had spent several nights reading every one of Shiler's papers and research reports. He had to admit: Shiler's Theory of the Mind Palace couldn't possibly be fabricated out of thin air—fabrication couldn't achieve such intricate, lifelike detail.

Previously, out of arrogance, Hugo had only skimmed these papers. But upon careful reading, he realized Shiler might truly possess some unknown psychological technique—perhaps the very one he used to alter his patients.

Hugo suddenly felt a surge of rage. Both of them conducted illegal human experiments. He was discovered, hunted, fired, and forced to flee to Gotham for safety. Yet Shiler remained a world-renowned top psychologist. This was utterly unfair.

Shiler had done exactly what Hugo had done: used his expertise to reshape patients. But Shiler had done it more covertly, more undetectably—and thus paid no price, instead gaining fame and status. This made Hugo, freshly fired and exiled, feel profoundly unjust.

For this reason, Hugo conceived a thought: he would find a way to expose Shiler.

Then, a more dangerous thought surfaced in Hugo's mind: if he could control Shiler, all his skills, knowledge, reputation, and status would become his own.

But Hugo knew well: they were both insiders. Hugo understood Shiler's research direction; Shiler likely understood Hugo's too. It was impossible to trick Shiler the way he tricked these patients—even if he succeeded, Hugo had no confidence he could hypnotize a peer of such caliber.

So Hugo realized he needed a meticulous plan—and a partner.

Finally, his gaze settled on the very bottom medical file, which bore a name without a surname: "Jack."

None of Gotham's weather forecasts predicted it, but in this early autumn, Gotham truly snowed. Though the snow was fine and light, and not especially cold, it was still a marvel.

Tiny, crystalline snowflakes drifted slowly from the sky, settling on the roof of Arkham Asylum. The old, weathered tiles, now covered, appeared freshly renewed.

Because the asylum was built long ago, its structure wasn't modern psychiatric design. Instead, it retained archaic features of older psychiatric hospitals—such as basements for handling troublesome conditions.

A sudden flash of bright light blurred before his eyes. Shiler opened them. Two figures stood before him.

"You're awake…"

Hugo fiddled with a machine on the table opposite Shiler. Jack leaned against the nearby railing, idly picking at his fingers.

Hugo looked at Shiler, bound to a chair. The professor was secured in an old interrogation chair, wrists locked in iron rings, feet immobilized—completely motionless.

Shiler lowered his gaze to the two sharp circular saws fixed beside his neck. "So you asked me to come to your office for a handover… just to kidnap me?"

Hugo smiled and pressed a button on the wall. The small saws beside Shiler's neck began spinning rapidly, slowly converging toward his throat—until they hovered just inches away. Yet Shiler showed no reaction, only looked at Hugo and asked: "What exactly do you want?"

"Nothing much. I just want you to cooperate with a hypnosis experiment."

"Oh? That's interesting…"

"I know that under normal circumstances, you wouldn't talk to me, let alone cooperate. But with this chair…"

Hugo pressed another button. The saws spun again. "You'll cooperate—even if you don't want to."

Hugo picked up a book from the table and held it up to Shiler. "In this paper you published, you detailed the Theory of the Mind Palace—describing it as a layered building within the human conscious space, used to store different memories…"

"I don't know whether you truly achieved this. But now, we can verify it…"

"How will you verify it?"

"You've asked that question many times, haven't you? Because you were certain no one could verify it—no one could enter your mind…"

Hugo offered a cruel smile. "... ut I can."

"Now, let's see whether you're the greatest fraud of this century—or…"

As he spoke, he stuck one patch after another onto his own head. Beside him, Jack remained silent. But had Hugo looked up before closing his eyes, he would have seen the mocking smile on Jack's lips.

In the instant their brainwaves merged, a long, endless fall began. Hugo had never imagined the connection to a conscious space could last so long. He didn't know how long he fell—but he never reached the bottom.

He felt like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole: endless, bizarre images flashed before his eyes, then darkness, then deeper darkness.

In this endless fall, Hugo was nearly driven mad by loneliness and weightlessness. Just seconds before he considered giving up, he finally hit the ground.

When Hugo came to, he looked down—and saw black flooring beneath his feet—

And above him, endless floors stretching infinitely upward.

————EXTRA NOTES————

Ah ha! You didn't expect this update at this point!