Chapter 403: Silence Is New York Tonight (Part 2)

Shieler stood by the door with the phone, the clock face behind him ticking steadily; as the second hand clicked on, the sky darkened, the last sliver of sunset sinking below the horizon, and after finishing his final call, he walked to the wall and turned on the light.

At that moment, there was a knock at the door—three precise, muffled taps, perfectly in harmony with the night that had just descended.

After turning on the light, Shieler turned back and did not look at Grant Ward as he entered; he returned to his desk and lightly tapped the surface with his fingers, signaling Grant to sit across from him.

Grant sat down, but far away; Shieler stared at him and said, "Why are you sitting so far?"

Grant said nothing; Shieler knew it was another one of his personalities' doing. He sighed, pulled a medical file from the shelf, and said, "Let me see… depression, plus some obsessive behaviors. Last time you said you refused medication—unless something changed, your condition must have worsened."

Grant gave no reply. Shieler sighed helplessly. "Do you know why, after all these years, you're still just a regular agent? I don't ask you to flatter anyone—but when I speak, don't you owe me some kind of response?"

Grant grunted, then fell silent again. Shieler snapped the file shut and put it away. Honestly, a psychiatrist didn't fear complex symptoms or unruly patients—the worst fear was a patient who wouldn't speak.

"If the Hydra that just called you is like you, I might actually have something to worry about now," Shieler muttered. "Turns out, being quiet has its advantages."

"I'm not quiet," Grant denied. "You told me to shut up, listen, and not ask why."

"It seems Garrett's control has severely damaged your personality. Unless I'm wrong, he used violence on you—and psychological abuse?"

"What do you want me to do?" Grant asked.

"Life in S. . . . . . has awakened a sliver of self-awareness in you. Before this, you were under Garrett's strict control."

"But this awakening is limited. Though you intellectually know this state is wrong and want to escape, you still act self-destructively—you convince yourself that killing for anyone is the same as killing for Garrett."

"Isn't that right?" Grant asked, staring into Shieler's eyes.

Shieler shook his head. "He's the patient. I'm the doctor."

"There are people in this world who enjoy psychologically tormenting others—or controlling them through any means necessary. They feel satisfaction when they see you suffer because you cannot defy their will. It's common in parents' irrational control over children."

"But whether you're the dominant or the dominated party, basing your mental stability on another's obedience is a severe psychological flaw. Once no one obeys them anymore, their psyche and identity collapse—commonly seen in parent-child relationships."

Shieler sighed. "Unfortunately, under those circumstances, I had to kill Garrett. Otherwise, helping you break free and observing his reaction would've made a decent experiment."

"It's clear that without his control, you feel freedom too suddenly—you're panicked, lost. And you're shocked to realize you want revenge on Garrett, the man who controlled and hurt you. This emotion terrifies you even more."

"If you have no mission, I'm leaving," Grant said, showing no reaction.

Shieler sighed again. From a killer's perspective, Grant wasn't exceptional. But as a patient, he embodied every difficult trait imaginable.

"Alright, I do have a mission," Shieler said, pulling a book from the shelf beside him and handing it to Grant. Grant took it, glanced at the cover, and said, "Who is Hydra?"

He wasn't asking—he was merely reading the words printed on the cover: "Who is Hydra?"

I have to admit, this question successfully piqued Grant's interest. While other Hydra members chanted slogans, he chanted along; when they shouted "Hydra," he shouted "Hydra" too—but he had no idea what Hydra actually was.

He opened the first page of the booklet and realized it wasn't a popular science book at all, but more like a religious scripture, since it began with Norse mythology.

Norse mythology is among the most widely known of all mythologies; many people have at least heard of Yggdrasil, and it's precisely because of this half-understood familiarity that Grant suddenly found the stories in this book quite intriguing.

Soon, he finished the first section and moved on to the second, where the worldview expanded dramatically: the Nine Realms of Yggdrasil were called "Midgard," a vast castle surrounded by a colossal serpent with its tail in its mouth—the World Serpent, Jörmungandr.

The second section emphasized Jörmungandr's immense power and detailed a prophecy: during Ragnarök, the serpent would perish alongside Thor, the mightiest of the gods, bringing an end to the fate of the divine.

The epic scale of the battle was compelling, but by the third section, things grew distinctly fantastical: it claimed that Hydra was actually an incarnation of Jörmungandr, originally possessing only one head, which later split into nine to bring calamity upon all life across the Nine Realms of Yggdrasil.

At the end, Grant's gaze fell upon the final sentence of the entire book: "Yesterday divided into nine, today united as one."

When he placed the book on the table, his fingers trembled slightly as he turned to Schiller and asked, "Do you know what you're doing?"

"It seems your basic logic hasn't been compromised," Schiller seized the opportunity to analyze every word, a feeling he hadn't experienced since his university exams.

Grant immediately fell silent, and Schiller continued, "Don't you think Hydra, as an espionage organization, is somewhat outdated?"

"Whether it's a pyramid scheme or a cult, both have advanced further in personnel screening, organizational structure, and operational efficiency. Since Hydra isn't starting from scratch, a pyramid scheme wouldn't work."

"Are you planning to preach?" Grant asked.

"Do you know what the essence of religion is?"

"What is it?"

"It's an outer shell—you can drape it over any kind of skeleton."

"Do you think they'll believe it?" Grant thought this was absurd.

"Why don't you understand yet? This isn't an ideology—it's a business. The purpose of this myth isn't to make low-level agents believe in it."

Schiller tossed his pen onto the table. "Think of it as a matchstick—it can only ignite those already primed to burn."

"They just need an excuse, a pretext, to openly seize power, eliminate allies, and claim the sole throne."

Grant recalled the content of the manual: in its final chapter, the prophecy of Ragnarök subtly implied that Hydra no longer needed nine heads—the World Serpent that brings about Ragnarök has only one head, requiring only one god, and thus only one Pope.

"You can interpret this as the spread of extreme ideology—anything that claims uniqueness triggers more extreme emotions in people."

"Grant, I think you can see that the situation is changing. This major purge of Hydra has brought many hidden tensions to the surface—old versus new, upper versus lower, regional conflicts…"

"Many people are even more desperate than I am for a complete reshuffling. Everyone knows that to shake up the entrenched hierarchy, gain more power, and become the new rulers, there's only one way…"

"Sarajevo," Grant slowly uttered the name, then added, "But a story alone isn't convincing enough. They're too cautious—they won't be the first to step forward."

"Did you see the prophecy in the final section—the one about Ragnarök?"

"I saw it, but it's just a prophecy."

"Yes… but what if I've already conspired with the gods themselves?"

As Schiller smiled, the lighting behind him shifted from dark to bright; the sun rose above the horizon, and another sunny morning bathed the room in light, the shadow on the table gradually reshaping itself—now sitting across from Schiller was Loki.

He was still dressed opulently, his attire and hairstyle immaculate, but exhaustion was unmistakable on his face. He shook his head and said, "The situation in Asgard is not good."

"What's wrong? Has Thor run into trouble?"

"On the contrary, Thor is the only one who hasn't had any problems," Loki said with a complex expression. "I can't believe that one day, Thor would be the most normal one among us."

He placed his hands on the table, fingers interlaced, and explained, "Thor returned from Earth, reclaimed his divine power, and even surpassed it. That's good for Asgard, isn't it?"

Schiller nodded, and Loki continued, "Thor has suddenly understood the true meaning of honor—it should be his weapon, not his chain; his scepter of rule, not the whip that drives him."

"He's determined to change Asgard's current state. He wants to halt this war machine, to find a more sustainable path for the nation and its people to develop peacefully, rather than careening toward destruction. That's good, right?"

Schiller sipped his coffee. "But someone doesn't want that, do they?"

"Exactly. To many Asgardians, war is the quickest, easiest way to acquire everything they need. They've grown accustomed to it—generation after generation, we've been Vikings, hunter-gatherers, pirates."

"It's nearly impossible to make such a civilization learn to slow down, let alone stop."

Loki pressed his fingers to his forehead. "The problem is, even the Allfather doesn't support Thor—not because he loves war, but because he believes that to face the coming Ragnarök, Asgard must possess overwhelming strength."

"If you stop this war machine now and dismantle its wheels, when Ragnarök arrives, we might not even escape."

"Odin may well know that even if the chariot keeps charging, we might still not escape—but he dares not gamble. If we keep building strength, there's still a chance to resist. But if we surrender our power, we'll be nothing but meat on the chopping block," Schiller summarized.

"Precisely," Loki sighed and nodded. "Thor is caught between two fires—many are using this moment to undermine his position as heir."