The days of being a spiritual mentor in Meiman.

"What's that?" Schiller asked.

"Perhaps, as you said, it's hatred for them, a desire for revenge." The pig's nose of the pig's mask slightly shrugged, making this rather simple-looking creature, It also brought some evil.

"I was longing to slaughter them like pigs, longing to kill them, drain their blood, and fiddle with their limbs, and now I've managed to do that, isn't it, I've become a successful butcher performance?"

"Actually speaking, you are a butcher, but you do need treatment." As soon as Schiller finished speaking, Valentine's eyes widened slightly. Obviously, Schiller's words exceeded his expectations. .

"Do you think I'm going to start talking to you about your mistakes, make your actions worthless, and then tell you what the correct answer is?" Schiller said with a smile: "Success has never A set standard, for a serial killer, too."

"Maybe, you didn't realize that when you told about your life, you put most of the responsibility on others. You were focusing on describing who made you like this."

Schiller picked up the water glass on the table and took a sip of water, which indicated that he had a lot to say next, so.Everyone in the room listened attentively, and no one was curious about what Schiller was going to say.

"In psychotherapy, I always meet patients who are very good at lying, and in their description of something, too much subjective judgment is mixed in, and they glorify themselves as unproblematic saints , and put all the responsibility on others or this society.”

"The family members who accompany them for treatment will say that they are liars by nature, lying to their relatives, friends, and teachers. Not only do they take deceptive countermeasures on major issues, but they also make up lies at will even in small daily matters, and they never change after repeated admonitions. .”

"When they face me, as usual, some things that may happen in their lives, or things that happen in different situations, according to their understanding, re-deconstruct and create, and then tell me , to put it bluntly, they are just making up stories.”

"When I exposed their lies and asked them what was the point of doing it, almost no one could answer. This is their habit, and sometimes it is not even malicious."

"In fact, this is not a shortcoming. It proves that this kind of person has an extremely rich imagination."

"Everyone will beautify themselves when expressing subjectively, and the stories made up by the best of these people can even be said to be seamless, and the process of beautifying themselves is also very smooth, without any flaws. This is actually a kind of talent."

"You think I'm glorifying myself?" Valentine asked.

Schiller nodded, but then said: "But there is something wrong with the direction of your beautification. You are just like an ordinary person, passing the responsibility to others. Do you know what this means?"

When he heard the word "ordinary person", Valentine's eyes began to be stained with anger. He seemed to feel that Schiller was belittling him, but Schiller's calm tone made him unable to attack again. Le went on to say:
"It means that you don't accept yourself well, you still hate yourself, you don't love yourself enough."

Schiller put down the water glass, looked at Valentine and said, "You still have a sense of shame and morality."

"You feel that what you did was wrong, so when you talk about who caused you to do these things, you glorify yourself in the direction of putting the blame on other people instead of acknowledging your indifference, Perverted and cruel."

"You think that as long as you deceive yourself and others, it is this society that caused you to do such a wrong thing, and you yourself are innocent."

Schiller looked into Valentine's eyes and shook his head and said, "As long as you ever have the thought of getting rid of your crime, it proves that you also think you are guilty."

"Everyone who is good at shirking responsibility essentially does not accept himself, his mistakes and crimes, so he will weave a fantasy world where mistakes belong to others and only himself is perfect."

"And when you hate and complain about high-ranking officials and nobles, thinking that it is their fault that you have become like this, it actually means that you know that killing people is wrong, you know that you have made a mistake, you know that you are guilty, and you have to blame them for the crime In order to make yourself appear innocent."

"And your standard of judging innocence still comes from social morality. The morality and laws of human society tell you that killing people is wrong and dismembering others is cruel. This concept has not been erased from your consciousness."

"Because you agree, you are ashamed, you shirk your responsibility, and you generate hatred. This is why you hate them, and it is the source of your inner hatred."

Schiller gently took a pen on the table, touched the cap of the pen with his hand, lowered his head and said, "You can't really treat them as pigs, because you know, you can't shirk responsibility for a group of pigs."

"If you really ignore them and treat them like livestock, you can no longer imagine the huge influence they exert on you, so that you can blame them for being cruel, and let them bear the burden of your violation for you. Social moral shame and self-blame."

"It's not that you don't want to do it, it's that you can't, and the reason you can't is because you don't think you're inherently heartless and cruel."

"Or, in your subconscious, you still see yourself as an...ordinary person who needs to conform to social morality."

When Schiller's voice fell, the room was quieter than when no one was there, and the extra silence was a manifestation of the overflow of thoughts filled in everyone's brains into reality.

This is why applause and cheers are not the best encouragement to the speaker, but silence is the highest respect for the audience.

Bruce sighed in his heart, no matter which professor he is, his wonderful performance in his own work makes people full of endless yearning for psychology.

Bruce had to admit that he had the patience to torture each other with Schiller for four years. The professor's top professional level and charisma were the most important reasons.

Bruce also has to admit that he has repeatedly lowered the standards of Schiller's moral requirements, and has repeatedly tolerated some of Schiller's behaviors that are completely inconsistent with his three views, morals and laws. In fact, there is no complicated reason. Just because he appreciates Schiller.

Valentine looked at Schiller silently, but he didn't want to refute violently, but looked at Schiller's face with a focused look, and said: "I sincerely apologize for what I said in the car. My apologies, Professor, you are a man worthy of my respect."

"It's just because I have never respected others before, so I don't know how to express it. I hope you can forgive my presumptuousness."

Schiller lowered his head slightly, shook his head slightly, stood up from the chair, looked into Valentine's eyes and said, "I think, I have already analyzed it clearly, and you should have some questions about the questions you brought. Think about it, then let’s get here first.”

Shock and confusion appeared in Valentine's eyes. He looked at Schiller and said, "Sorry, what did you say? But...but it's only been half an hour, isn't it just the beginning?"

Schiller put one hand in the pocket of his suit, looked into Valentine's eyes from top to bottom, and said, "I'm happy to guide a lost child. This comes from my sympathy."

"But I am a psychologist, and this is my profession. If you want to get a more professional answer, you must pay for it, because it also shows your respect for my professional level."

Valentine, who was sitting on the sofa, suddenly looked at a loss. He looked at Schiller and said, "Of course, of course I will pay. Of course I know that seeing a psychiatrist requires money, but I came here in a hurry today. "

Schiller shook his head lightly again, and he slowly bent over, leaned closer to Valentine and said, "What I want is not money."

Soon he straightened himself up again, looked down at Valentine and said, "Those things you sent to my garden are missing a lot of parts, don't you like those parts?"

Valentine froze for a moment, then he suddenly said as if he had realized something: "Are you referring to the internal organs? But the internal organs are too fragile to be used to make dolls... Do you like internal organs? I can find them for you, Do you like male or female?"

Harry, who was standing behind the sofa, covered her mouth and widened her eyes. She was smart and immediately understood what Valentine was referring to.

But Schiller shook his head gently and said, "Sorry, I don't like pork."

Then his eyes fell on Valentine's face, and he looked at him and said, "...are you drinking?"

Seeing Schiller's eyes, Valentine seemed to understand something. His fingertips began to tremble a little, as if it was fear, but also excitement. He shook his head and said, "No, I almost never drink alcohol."

Schiller looked a little disappointed, he looked at Valentine seriously and said:
"Your understanding of food is really bad, human offal. It is the most suitable for cooking among all animals, the delicate stomach pouch raised by finely ground and chewed food, the liver pickled by alcohol, and the large amount of sugar decomposed pancreas like...

Looking into his eyes, Valentine slowly lowered his head to glance at his body, and then stared at Schiller again. A kind of fanatical flame began to gradually emerge in his eyes, which was both like crazy longing and sad pleading.

He stood up, stepped forward, looked at Schiller and said, "What do I have to give to get the answer? . . . my lungs, or my heart?"

Schiller, who was walking towards the desk, turned around. He no longer had the patient and gentle expression when he was doing treatment, but returned to paleness and indifference, and his eyes became barren.

He gave Valentine a critical look from head to toe, and said, "Judging from your body type, your visceral fat has exceeded the standard, which is not a good thing, Laszlo, keep a healthy body, It is necessary."

Valentine stepped forward quickly and spread his hands, as if to explain something, but Schiller stepped forward two steps quickly and put a hand on his shoulder.

Valentine turned to look at Schiller's hand, but did not move.

Schiller pushed him to the ground, and the burly Valentine knocked over the coffee table when he fell, and the tape recorder fell to the ground, made two "sizzling" sounds, and stopped working.

When Batman stepped out of the shadows quickly, the boning knife in Schiller's hand had already penetrated Valentine's eye socket, and gouged out his remaining intact eyeball.

Schiller slowly walked back to the desk and picked up an empty jar from the bookshelf.

When the blood-stained hand was released and the eyeball stuck to the nerves fell into the jar, Schiller's eyes were like a child throwing a coin into the wishing well, full of unspeakable expectations.

Valentine was lying on the ground, his limbs twitching in pain, but he didn't make any screams, just said in a staccato voice: "Come to my right so I can hear... hear what you're saying."

And Batman standing behind him, after a long time, was once again worried about the crazy thing that happened in front of him.And felt dizzy.