Chapter 92: The “Psychological Expert”

Chapter Ninety-Two
The “Psychological Expert”

“Mass hysteria?”

Sir Deweyville, who had come into contact with quite a few psychiatrists during this period, chewed over the term Klein had given.

His butler, bodyguards, and servants, even though curiosity clearly stirred within them, did not make a sound without his permission.

Sergeant Gate, on the other hand, looked toward Klein with puzzlement written across his face, as though he had never heard of such a concept.

Klein controlled the instinct to tap the sofa armrest with his finger and explained in a soothing, low voice.

“Human beings are creatures easily deceived by their own senses. Mass hysteria is a psychogenic problem that arises within the same group when factors such as mental tension influence one another.”

A string of professional terminology left Sir Deweyville, Sergeant Gate, and the others briefly dazed. Almost instinctively, they chose to believe him.

Klein continued, giving an example.

“Let me offer a simple case. This is one I handled before. A certain gentleman held a dinner party and invited thirty-five guests. During the dinner, he suddenly felt nauseated and vomited on the spot. Afterward, he suffered severe diarrhea, once, twice, three times. He began believing that he had food poisoning, and while heading to the hospital, he told his guests of that suspicion.

“Over the next two hours, among the thirty-five guests, more than thirty developed diarrhea, and twenty-six vomited. They filled the hospital’s emergency room.

“The doctors performed detailed examinations and comparisons, and concluded that the first gentleman had not been poisoned. His symptoms had been caused by changes in weather combined with cold spirits, which led to inflammation of the stomach and intestines.

“And what was most astonishing was that none of the guests who came to the hospital had been poisoned. Not one of them was even truly ill.

“That is mass hysteria.”

Sir Deweyville nodded slightly and praised him.

“I understand. Human beings do indeed easily deceive themselves. No wonder Emperor Roselle once said that a lie repeated a hundred times becomes the truth.

“Officer, how should I address you? You are the most professional psychiatrist I have ever met.”

“Inspector Moretti,” Klein said, pointing at his epaulette. “Sir, your trouble has received initial treatment. You may try sleeping now and allow me to confirm whether other problems remain. If you can have a good dream, please permit us to take our leave early and not wait until you wake.”

“Very well.”

Deweyville rubbed his forehead, picked up his cane, and walked upstairs step by step, entering the bedroom.

Half an hour later, the carriage bearing the police emblem drove away from the fountain before Lord Deweyville’s home.

After Sergeant Gate alighted halfway and returned to his own police station, Inspector Tolle looked toward Klein, half flattering and half joking.

“For a moment just now, I truly thought you were a real psychological expert…”

His words did not reach their end, because he saw the young man in the black-and-white checkered uniform reveal almost no expression. His eyes were dark and deep, and the corners of his mouth barely lifted.

“I have merely come into contact with some things before.”

Inspector Tolle fell quiet, remaining silent until the carriage stopped outside Number 36, Zouteland Street.

“Thank you for your help. Sir Deweyville has finally escaped his torment and found sleep again,” he said, extending a hand and shaking Klein’s. “Please convey my thanks to Dunn.”

Klein nodded lightly.

“I will.”

He walked up the stairs step by step, returned to Blackthorn Security Company, knocked, entered, and came to the Captain’s office.

“Resolved?” Dunn was waiting for his lunch.

“Resolved.”

Klein rubbed his forehead and spoke concisely and honestly.

“The root of the matter lay in the lead and porcelain factories under Sir Deweyville’s name. From their establishment until now, there have been too many cases of death from lead poisoning. Each one left Sir Deweyville with a little resentment formed from lingering spirituality.”

“Normally speaking, those would not cause major problems. At most, they would give him nightmares.”

Dunn had handled similar cases and possessed considerable experience.

Klein nodded slightly.

“Yes. That is how the matter should originally have developed. But unfortunately, one day, Sir Deweyville encountered a female worker suffering from lead poisoning on the street. She happened to collapse by the roadside, and also happened to see the crest of the Deweyville family. At the same time, she carried intense unwillingness, worry, and longing. Only after the Sir gave her parents, brothers, and younger sister three hundred pounds in compensation did those emotions disperse.”

“This is a social problem. In this age of steam and machinery, it is not rare.”

Dunn took out his pipe, smelled it, and said with a sigh, “Workers who make linen, because they dampen the material and themselves along with it, commonly suffer from bronchitis and joint diseases. In factories with serious dust, even where poisoning does not exist, lung problems accumulate…

“Hoo. We need not discuss such things. As the Kingdom develops, I believe they will all be resolved.

“Klein, tonight—tonight we shall find a restaurant and celebrate your becoming an official member?”

Klein thought for a moment and said, “Tomorrow night. Captain, today I used spirit vision for too long, and I also used the dream-divination technique to communicate directly with those resentments. I feel very tired. I hope to return home this afternoon and rest properly. Is that all right?

“Mm, around four or five I will go to the Divination Club and observe the members’ reactions to Hynas Vincent’s sudden death.”

“No problem. That is only natural.”

Dunn chuckled.

“Then tomorrow night. At Old Will’s Restaurant nearby. I will have Rozanne reserve seats.”

Holding his police soft cap, Klein stood and saluted.

“Thank you, Captain. I will see you tomorrow.”

Dunn raised a hand slightly.

“Wait.”

Klein stopped.

Dunn said, “You mentioned just now that Sir Deweyville gave the female worker’s parents compensation of three hundred pounds?”

“Yes.”

Klein had only just nodded when he understood why the Captain had stopped him.

“You are worried that they may encounter misfortune because of that money?”

Dunn sighed.

“I have seen many such things. Give me their address. I will have Kenley arrange for them to leave Tingen and begin a new life in another city.”

“All right,” Klein answered in a deep voice.

After finishing this, he left Dunn’s office, entered the lounge diagonally opposite, changed back into his original formalwear, and left the police uniform in the locker that belonged to him.

Taking a public carriage, Klein returned to Daffodil Street in silence, swaying along with the carriage. He took off his coat and hat, found the leftovers from the previous night, reheated them, and filled his stomach with the last stick of oat bread.

Then he climbed to the second floor, hung up his clothes, and fell headfirst onto the bed.

When he woke, the pocket watch showed ten past two in the afternoon. Outside, the blazing sun hung high, its light piercing through the clouds.

In that brilliant gold, Klein stood beside the desk and looked through the bay window. He looked at the pedestrians outside, their clothes old and ragged, watching them enter and leave Iron Cross Street.

Hoo…

He slowly exhaled, finally freeing himself from the heaviness that had weighed on him.

The road must be walked step by step. Sequences must be advanced one level at a time. Everything was like that.

He shook his head, sat down, and began summarizing and sorting through what he had encountered during the past week, repeating the key points he had memorized before, lest forgetfulness or omissions appear.

Two fifty-five in the afternoon.

Above the blurry, boundless, gray-white, empty fog, a towering and magnificent temple stood high. A long ancient bronze table, mottled by time, rested in silence.

At the seat of honor of that table, upon the high-backed chair, sat a man whose entire body was shrouded in dense gray fog.

Klein leaned back against the chair and silently pondered for a while. Then he suddenly lifted his hand and pointed into the air at the crimson stars symbolizing Justice and the Hanged Man.

…

Backlund, Queen’s Borough.

Audrey lifted the hem of her dress and walked lightly toward her bedroom.

Suddenly, sensing something, she turned her head toward the shadowed corner of the balcony. As expected, she saw the golden retriever Susie sitting there quietly, silently observing.

Audrey sighed soundlessly, drew a crimson moon over her chest, then walked closer. Looking down at the golden retriever, she said, “Susie, this is not proper. This is peeping. A Spectator should observe openly from her own position.”

The golden retriever lifted her head and looked at her owner, cooperatively wagging her tail.

After nagging a few more sentences, Audrey dared not delay and once again walked toward the bedroom.

During the few seconds of opening and closing the door, a strange thought suddenly occurred to her.

“I wonder whether Mr. Fool can allow Susie to enter that mysterious space as well. Then our Tarot Club would have four members! And one hundred percent of us would be Beyonders!”

“No. Susie cannot speak. If she had to express an opinion or exchange thoughts, what would she do? Woof woof? Awoo, awoo? Ptooey. Why am I standing here imitating a dog’s bark…”

“Just imagining that scene feels extremely strange… In a mysterious, solemn gathering, dog barks suddenly appear… Mr. Fool would definitely kick us straight out of the Tarot Club…”

Audrey locked the bedroom door, sat down at the edge of the bed, and took out a yellow-brown, old sheet of paper from beneath her pillow.

After reading it several more times, she began entering the state of a Spectator.

…

Somewhere on the Sonia Sea, the ancient sailing ship pursuing the Listener had already moved far away from the Rorsted Archipelago.

“Seafarer” Alger Wilson worried that the mechanical wall clock might be inaccurate, so he entered the captain’s cabin a full half hour early to avoid sudden circumstances being seen by his subordinates.

Before him sat a cup of almost transparent spirits. The dense aroma rose strand by strand into his nostrils.

Thinking of the gathering that was about to begin, and of the boundless gray fog and mysterious Fool sitting in its center that had appeared before his eyes in the inn corridor, Alger trembled once again, faintly and involuntarily.

He lifted the cup and drank it in one gulp, using the burning line of fire that scorched his throat to ease the feeling in his heart.

Very soon, he regained his calm. He was as steady and composed as always.