Chapter 263

In the villa's room, on a soft sofa, Victor leaned back against the armrest and turned to look at Schiller, who was fiddling with a globe at the desk, asking: "Why did you call us all here?"

Cobble was adjusting a button on his pocket, seemingly trying to tweak its length; across from him, Yin Wensi held a wineglass, swirling the liquid inside, which glowed golden and frothed with white bubbles; Jack lay sprawled on a single sofa, eyes half-closed, dozing.

Schiller leaned back in his chair, continuously spinning the globe; even after placing it on the desk, the Earth model continued to rotate slightly. He looked at Victor and asked: "Haven't you noticed anything different here?"

"What's different?" Victor scanned the entire room—it was Schiller's villa parlor, with a row of soft sofas, two single chairs, and several cushions; a coffee table sat between them, and along one wall stood Schiller's desk, behind which shelves overflowed with assorted objects.

Victor had been here before and saw nothing unusual. Just as he was about to press further, he looked again at Schiller and felt something was off. He asked: "What's wrong with your head?"

At that moment, Schiller's head had become a spinning globe, yet no one else noticed—except Jack, who lay opposite and opened one eye slightly, letting out two soft hissing breaths through his teeth.

"There…," said Schiller with a globe for a head, rising from behind the desk. It should have been a grotesque sight, yet Victor felt nothing strange—as if this were perfectly normal.

"Think carefully, Victor. How did you get here?"

"I walked here from school, I…" Victor paused, then said: "Am I dreaming? Is this my dream?"

"You've got it backward. This isn't your dream—it's mine."

Victor looked surprised. Schiller moved to sit beside him, turning his globe-head toward Victor. Victor wasn't sure if Schiller had actually turned his head, since the globe never stopped spinning.

The others, except Jack, slowly sat upright, as if waking from sleep, gazing around the space in bewilderment.

"Of course, human consciousness spaces cannot connect—just as dreams cannot intersect. What one person imagines in their mind cannot be seen, touched, or even closely observed by another…"

"But…" Schiller's globe-head turned toward Yin Wensi. "The reason I can pull others into my consciousness space begins with you, Yin Wensi…"

Yin Wensi stared at Schiller's globe-head, unsure what to say. In reality, this scene would be horrifying—but here, in this consciousness space, it felt unremarkable, because stranger things existed: for instance, they were now sitting on the ceiling.

The sofa and coffee table were stuck to the ceiling; the chandelier hung just beside Yin Wensi's hand. Somehow, the entire space had inverted, yet none of them noticed anything amiss.

Likewise, when Yin Wensi focused his gaze on his nose, he saw a clown's red nose attached to it—and he felt no intrusion, no oddness.

Jack pinched the red ball on his nose and let out two soft "squeak-squeak" sounds, grinning broadly.

"So you're saying we're all inside your dream, Professor?" Yin Wensi scratched his head, utterly baffled. "But as you said, how can multiple people's dreams merge?"

"Since you already learned the truth of Alberto's origin from him, have you ever wondered how the Owl Court and the old priest managed to create Alberto's personality?"

"Um… Alberto didn't explain this to me. He seemed unaware of his own origin—he just appeared one day, out of nowhere…"

"That's why I say it begins with you…"

"Let's organize our thoughts. In our previous case, we learned the Owl Court discovered something called 'Wine' beneath Gotham Cathedral. After failing to study it, they brought in the priest. The priest made progress and handed his findings to the Owl Court, who then created your brother's personality. So what's the key here?"

Yin Wensi wasn't stupid. He was about to answer when Cobble cut in: "It's that 'Wine.'"

"Correct. When I spoke with the priest and the Abbot, the priest told me he possessed an ability beyond ordinary people—a kind of telepathic sense, able to perceive others' mental traits."

"Because of this ability, he sensed my difference—and that's why he hired me to be your tutor, Yin Wensi. Do you understand now?"

"So this 'Wine' grants telepathic abilities?"

Schiller's globe-head shook slightly. In truth, no one could tell if he'd moved at all—the globe never stopped spinning.

"That 'Wine'—or rather, I prefer to call it the Dionysian Factor—you can think of it as a liquid brainwave amplifier…"

"Brainwave amplifier?" Victor frowned. "I've studied brainwave theory. I've heard theories about manipulating minds through brainwave interference—but you're saying a special liquid can amplify brainwaves? Isn't that a bit too…"

"We don't need to crack its mechanism—only its effect. The priest gave his findings on the Wine to the Owl Court, who used it to create Alberto's personality…"

"So where is he now?" Yin Wensi glanced around. Schiller explained: "His house is at a critical construction stage—that's why you're here."

"After confirming this with the priest, I realized the Dionysian Factor might be linked to human consciousness."

"And I happened to have several other liquids related to this. I asked a biological friend to mix them in precise proportions to achieve maximum brainwave amplification. I call it 'Mad Wine.'"

"When I first made it, I wasn't sure if it worked—so…" Schiller turned his head toward Jack, who nodded. "So you added it to our drinks while we were drinking…"

"And our consciousness spaces did connect. And then a bothersome fellow escaped from your consciousness space, trying to trick me into entering yours to take your place in prison."

"Just now, I invited you all to my villa and served wine—with a few drops of Mad Wine in each glass. That's why we're here now—"

"Welcome to my consciousness space, everyone."

Instantly, everyone snapped awake. Victor recalled how he'd arrived at Schiller's villa on a rainy day and taken a sip of wine. Cobble and Victor also remembered entering, taking off their coats, and hanging up their umbrellas. Schiller explained: "When you first enter, there's an adaptation period—you may confuse reality with illusion and feel nothing strange."

"Like seeing a flipped skyscraper in a dream—you wouldn't find it odd. Transitioning from wakefulness to dreaming requires adaptation. Of course, if I reveal the truth, the adaptation speeds up."

"I understand the logic…" Victor turned to Schiller. "But why did you turn your head into a globe?"

Schiller reached up and spun his globe-head. "Not just me—you can change too. Though this is my consciousness space, when our brainwaves merge, you gain some autonomy here."

No sooner had he spoken than Jack's head exploded into a fried chicken wing, its surface bearing a huge smiling face. Jack's voice came from the gaping mouth: "This is what I ate tonight—tasted good, though the inside was undercooked and disgustingly fishy…"

Yin Wensi stared wide-eyed at Jack's chicken-wing head, even smelling the greasy aroma of fried food.

Yawen Library

"This… how do I do it?"

Before he could try, Victor's hand suddenly held a strangely shaped ice gun. They examined it curiously. "This was my latest design—I never got around to building it. I didn't expect it to manifest so realistically."

"In this consciousness space—in a dream—what you can do depends entirely on your imagination: 'What you believe, you receive.' And the more detailed your imagination, the more detailed the manifestation. I assume you've fully designed this gun?"

"Yes. The blueprints were finalized a week ago. So it can fire?"

Victor pulled the trigger. An ice spike shot out, instantly freezing the clown opposite into a block of ice.

"If you believe it can fire, it will fire—just as a dreamer who believes they can fly, truly flies."

"Hey! You just froze my head! Don't you know cold fried chicken is the most disgusting food in the world?!" Jack's chicken-wing mouth shouted.

Cobble pinched the red ball on his nose—and with a *pop*, it became a sharp cone, like those worn at parties.

Yin Wensi scratched his head. "Can I change my hair color? I've always wanted dark brown hair like the Abbot's—but dyeing's such a hassle."

As he spoke, his hair slowly shifted from bright gold to deep brown. Schiller's globe-head swiveled. "I think gold suits you better."

"Do you have a mirror?" Yin Wensi turned his head, searching for a reflective surface to see himself.

"Just think about it."

Yin Wensi thought, then drew a crooked square in the air with his finger. The square became a mirror, falling into his hands. He fumbled to catch it, looked, and said: "Yeah… gold does look better…"

As he spoke, his hair reverted to gold.

Victor picked up his wineglass and asked Schiller: "So why did you bring us into your consciousness space?"

"There's no real business. I just wanted you to watch something entertaining."

"Entertaining? What's there to watch?"

"Precisely because there's nothing entertaining—so we create something. Not just me—I think Mr. Jack feels the same, right?"

Jack turned his head into a toilet brush, poking at the bristles with his fingers. "Gotham without Batman is unbearably dull. If I don't make my own fun, I'll go mad!"

"Fine. So what exactly are you planning?"

Schiller shifted his body, leaning back against the sofa arm. "There's a highly professional psychologist—my colleague—sitting right now in Arkham Asylum. Soon, I'll go to hand over his case…"

"I'll have a theoretical discussion with him, then invite him for a drink…"

"You're going to bring him here?"

"No, no, no. This is the audience seat—and he…"

Jack grinned, picking up the thread: "He'll be the actor. A very bad one."