Chapter 1166 Professor (38)

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"What is that?" Schiller asked.

"Perhaps, as you said, it is a hatred for them, a desire for revenge," the pig-nosed pig mask said, slightly shrugging its shoulders, giving the seemingly simple-minded creature a touch of ferocity.

"I long to slaughter them like pigs, to kill them, to drain their blood, to play with their limbs, and now I have succeeded in doing so, isn't this a sign that I have become a successful butcher?"

"In fact, you are a butcher, but you also need treatment," Schiller's words had just fallen, and Valentin's eyes widened slightly, obviously Schiller's words had exceeded his expectations.

"Do you think I'm going to start talking to you in detail about your mistakes, making your behavior worthless, and then tell you what the right answer is?" Schiller smiled and said, "There has never been a fixed standard for success, and this is also true for a Serial Killer."

"Perhaps you haven't realized that when you are describing your life story, you are shifting the responsibility to others, you are emphasizing who turned you into this."

Schiller picked up the water glass on the table and took a sip, indicating that he was about to say a long speech, so everyone in the room listened attentively, curious about what Schiller was going to say.

"When I'm doing psychological treatment, I often encounter such patients, they are very good at lying, in the narration of an event, they mix too much subjective judgment, beautifying themselves into a flawless saint, and shifting all responsibility to others or this society."

"The family members who accompany them for treatment will say that they are habitual liars, deceiving their family, friends, and teachers, not only using deceptive tactics in major matters, but even making up lies for daily trivial matters, and they are incorrigible."

"When they face me, they also, as usual, reconstruct and recreate some events that may have happened in their lives, or events that happened differently, according to their understanding, and then tell me, in other words, they are just making up stories."

"When I expose their lies and ask them what the point of doing so is, almost no one can answer, it's their habit, and sometimes it's not even with malice."

"In fact, this is not a flaw, it proves that these people have extremely rich imaginations."

"Everyone will beautify themselves when making subjective expressions, and the best of these people can weave stories that are seamless, and the process of beautifying themselves is also very smooth and flawless, which is actually a talent."

"Do you think I've beautified myself?" Valentin asked.

Schiller nodded, but then said, "But the direction of your beautification is a bit problematic, you are, like an ordinary person, shifting the responsibility to others, you know what that means?"

When he heard the word "ordinary person," a trace of anger began to appear in Valentin's eye contact, he seemed to feel that Schiller was belittling him, but Schiller's calm tone prevented him from lashing out, and Schiller continued:

"It means that you actually haven't accepted yourself very well, you are still disgusted with yourself, you don't love yourself enough."

Schiller reached out and put the water glass down, looking at Valentin and said, "You still have a sense of shame, a moral sense."

"You feel that your actions are wrong, so when you talk about who caused you to do these things, the direction you beautify yourself is to shift the responsibility to others, rather than acknowledge your own indifference, perversion and cruelty."

"You feel that as long as you deceive yourself, deceive others, it is this society that has caused you to make such a mistake, you yourself are innocent."

Schiller shook his head as he looked into Valentin's eyes and said, "And as long as you have the desire to exculpate yourself, it proves that you also believe you are guilty."

"Every person who is good at shirking responsibility is essentially not accepting themselves, unable to accept their own mistakes and crimes, so they will weave a fantasy world where all the mistakes belong to others and only they are perfect."

"And your hatred and complaints towards the officials, believing that it is their fault that you have become this way, actually means that you know killing is wrong, you know you have made a mistake, you know you are guilty, and you have to blame them to make yourself appear innocent."

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

"Because of recognition, therefore shame, therefore shifting responsibility, therefore generating hatred, this is the source of your inner hatred."

Schiller gently picked up a steel pen from the table, caressing the pen cap with his hand, and looking down, said, "You cannot truly treat them as pigs, because you know you cannot shift responsibility to a group of pigs."

"If you really disregard them and see them as livestock, you would not be able to fantasize about the huge impact they have had on you, and then blame them for your violation of social morality, your shame and self-blame."

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

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

When Schiller's words fell, the room was even more silent than when no one was there, the extra silence was the expression of the thoughts that filled everyone's minds spilling out into reality.

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

Bruce sighed inwardly, no matter which Professor, their brilliant performance in their profession always fills him with endless longing for psychology.

Bruce had to acknowledge that the top-notch professionalism and personal charm of this Professor were the most important reasons why he could endure to be mutually tortured by Schiller for four years.

Bruce also had to acknowledge that he had repeatedly lowered his standard of morality for Schiller, and tolerated some of Schiller's behaviors that were completely contrary to his own values, morals and laws, not for any complicated reason, but simply because he admired Schiller.

Valentin remained silent, looking at Schiller with a focused gaze, not angrily wanting to refute, but opening his mouth and saying, "I sincerely apologize for the words I said in the car, Professor, you are a person worthy of my respect."

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

Schiller slightly lowered his head, gently shook it, and stood up from the chair, looking into Valentin's eyes and saying, "I think I've analyzed it very clearly. You should have thought about the doubts you've brought. So let's stop here for today."

Valentin's eyes showed shock and confusion, and he looked at Schiller and said, "I'm 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 his suit pocket and looked down at Valentin's eyes, saying, "I'm happy to guide a lost child, and this comes from my empathy."

"But I'm a psychologist, and this is my profession. If you want more professional answers, you must pay, because this also expresses your respect for my professional level."

Sitting on the sofa, Valentin suddenly seemed a little flustered. He looked at Schiller and said, "Of course, of course I'll pay. I know seeing a psychologist costs money, but I came here in a hurry today."

However, Schiller gently shook his head again. He slowly bent down, getting closer to Valentin, and said, "I don't want money."

He soon straightened up, lowered his eyelids, and looked at Valentin, saying, "The things you sent to my garden were missing many parts. Don't you like those parts?"

Valentin was stunned for a moment, and then he suddenly seemed to remember something and said, "Do you mean the internal organs? But the internal organs are too fragile to be used to make dolls... Do you like internal organs? I can go find some for you. Do you prefer male or female?"

Standing behind the sofa, Harley covered her mouth and widened her eyes, as the clever girl immediately understood what Valentin was referring to.

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

Then his eye contact fell on Valentin's face, and he looked at him and said, "... Do you drink alcohol?"

Seeing Schiller's eye contact, Valentin also seemed to understand something. His fingertips started to tremble, as if it was fear, but also as if it was excitement. He shook his head and said, "No, I almost never drink."

Schiller seemed a bit disappointed. He looked at Valentin seriously and said:

"Your understanding of food is really terrible. The internal organs of humans are the most suitable for cooking among all animals. The delicate stomach nurtured by finely ground and chewed food, the liver pickled in alcohol, the pancreas that has broken down a large amount of sugar..."

Looking into his eye contact, Valentin slowly lowered his head to look at his own body, and then stared at Schiller. A fanatical fire began to flicker in his eyes, both like a crazy desire and a sorrowful plea.

He stood up and took a step forward, looking at Schiller and saying, "What do I have to pay 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 he had during the treatment, but had regained his pale and indifferent appearance, and his eye contact had also become desolate.

He scrutinized Valentin from head to toe, then said, "Judging from your build, your body fat is already excessive, which is not a good thing, Laszlo. Maintaining a healthy physique is necessary."

Valentin walked up quickly, spreading out his hands as if to explain something, but Schiller quickly stepped forward two steps and placed one hand on his shoulder.

Valentin turned his head to look at Schiller's hand, but did not make any move.

Schiller pushed him to the ground with one hand. The burly Valentin fell and knocked over the coffee table, causing the recorder to fall to the ground and make a "sizzling" sound, no longer working.

When Batman stepped out of the shadow, Schiller already had a bone knife in his hand and had stabbed it into Valentin's eye socket, digging out his remaining good eye.

Schiller slowly walked back to the desk, taking an empty jar from the bookshelf.

When the blood-stained hand released the eye, which was still connected to the nerves, and it fell into the jar, Schiller's eye contact was like a child throwing a coin into a wishing pool, full of unspeakable expectation.

Valentin lay on the ground, his limbs convulsing in pain, but he did not let out any agonizing screams, only saying in a broken voice, "Come to my right side, then I can hear... hear what you're saying."

And Batman, standing behind him, once again felt dizzy at the madness unfolding before him, after such a long time.

[Read at www.patreon.com/shanefreak, and thanks for the invaluable support!]

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Next Chapter>>Chapter 1167 Professor (39)