Steampunk: Sixth Era Epic
Chapter 933 - 933: Detective's Healing Methods

The first floor of the Three Cats Inn is a completely open structure, with only a section under the stairs raised by one step. The second floor of the inn resembles an atrium, with tables placed all around the perimeter. By leaning on the railing, one can directly see performances by the bard on the first floor, allowing those on the second floor to enjoy the show as well.

The inn was still the same as before. The lady owner, Mrs. Sangmi, warmly welcomed the two of them. The doctor took Shard to the second floor, seating them in a secluded corner.

In the afternoon, Tobesk City was still shrouded in dense fog. After all, the steam pipeline heating in the city would start next Monday, and the exhaust from the factories had been much more than usual. Plus, the weather wasn't good today, so although it was still afternoon, the Three Cats Inn had already lit the gas lamps. However, to save on gas costs, the lighting wasn't very bright.

The doctor first went to the third floor to fetch his patient, Mr. Jimms, and asked Shard to wait. Since the doctor had already ordered drinks with the scantily clad female server, Shard didn't need to do anything else.

After the doctor left, he sat there observing the other guests. Dr. Schneider chose the southeast corner on the second floor to help Mr. Jimms calm down a bit. Since there were fewer guests on a Friday afternoon, when Shard looked around, he could only see a middle-aged woman with her back to him, sitting by the wall on the other side of the atrium on the second floor, holding a wine glass.

"A woman drinking alone at the inn on a Friday afternoon?"

Shard smelled the "scent of a story," but unlike a writer like Dorothy, he didn't have the inclination to investigate further.

Dr. Schneider had not returned yet, but the drinks they ordered were brought over, carried on a tray up the stairs by none other than the inn's owner, Mrs. Sangmi.

"Mrs. Sangmi, are you driving the servers away in the afternoon to save costs because there's little business?"

Shard asked with a smile, as the lady owner, wearing an apron, placed the drinks one by one on the table:

"Oh, Detective, I only brought the drinks myself out of respect for Rejed's Hamilton."

Mrs. Sangmi also smiled, setting down the drinks before bringing a plate of fried beans to the center of the table:

"This is for you."

"Why?"

Shard blinked.

"I've heard people talking about the 'Detective's Penny Problem' these days. Whenever folks in the city discuss this, they mention our place."

Mrs. Sangmi said,

"Consider it a thank you, Detective. You've made us more famous."

Shard picked up a bean and tossed it into his mouth:

"Giving only one plate of beans, isn't that a bit stingy?"

Not long after Mrs. Sangmi left, Dr. Schneider returned with Mr. Jimms. Contrary to Shard's imagination, Mr. Jimms, although thin and not tall, did not exhibit "neurotic" or abnormal behavior.

Mr. Jimms, a man in his thirties, had already learned of Shard's identity from Dr. Schneider and politely extended his hand in greeting.

When the three sat down, Dr. Schneider took the seat with his back to the wall, Shard sat facing the doctor, and Mr. Jimms sat to the left of the doctor and to Shard's right.

Dr. Schneider's psychological evaluation did not require Shard's input, so he sat and listened as the doctor asked Mr. Jimms about his week's schedule and the problems he encountered recently.

Through their conversation, Shard learned that Mr. Jimms's "paranoia of persecution" wasn't a feeling that everyone wanted to kill him but rather a sense that there were hidden threats around him. Any movement he perceived could lead to a fatal crisis.

Seeing someone with a dagger would make him think the dagger would definitely be used against him; seeing a banana peel ahead made him believe he would step on it and fall to his death; even seeing stray cats and dogs rummaging through alleyway trash made him think these wild animals would harm him.

This psychological issue emerged three months prior. Mr. Jimms wasn't originally from Tobesk City but an accountant from a more northern city, Antelu City. He sought help from a local psychiatrist there with little effect. Coincidentally, the Levant Wool Supply Company, where he worked, sent him to Tobesk City to settle year-end accounts with local suppliers, and through introductions, he found Dr. Schneider.

Of course, although the patient himself believed he might die at any moment, in reality, over the three months since he began having this "illusion," he had not been injured by any accident, aside from a few weeks of a mild cold. However, over time, Mr. Jimms's "crisis perception" intensified to the point where he was unwilling to go to unfamiliar places like Dr. Schneider's Clinic.

Dr. Schneider tried to analyze Mr. Jimms's psychological state from various angles and has prescribed him sedatives and sleep aids over the past few weeks. While this approach could relax tense emotions, it had little impact on Mr. Jimms's "fatal crisis perception."

Their conversation lasted more than half an hour. Dr. Schneider initially assessed the patient's psychological changes for the week and then indicated it was Shard's turn.

Shard didn't think he could be of much help, but since he was there, he treated it as a detective investigation:

"Mr. Jimms, before you suddenly developed these bizarre thoughts three months ago, did you experience anything unusual?"

He asked carefully.

"Dr. Schneider has helped me analyze past experiences that might have influenced my mindset."

Mr. Jimms shook his head slightly.

"No, no, I mean, did you visit cemeteries, abandoned rural churches, strange shops in alleys, or buy odd pendants, eerie statues, or old books with leather covers?"

Shard asked solemnly, and Mr. Jimms thought for a moment to understand his meaning:

"Detective, are you suggesting..."

"It's just a possibility. Although I don't advocate introducing theology into the study of spiritual science, sometimes we have to consider all possible reasons."

Shard said, with Dr. Schneider nodding beside him:

"That's why I brought the detective, and of course, you won't have to pay Detective extra because of this."

Mr. Jimms was reassured, as he recalled,

"Sorry, I don't think I've come into contact with anything strange."

"I see..."

Shard pondered for a moment, then proposed another idea:

"Since you feel constantly enveloped by a fatal crisis, have you considered really putting yourself in danger? Perhaps if you genuinely escape a life-and-death situation, the strange psychological sensation will vanish. It's somewhat like using one poison to relieve another's antidote."

"Is there such an antidote method?"

Mr. Jimms asked curiously but then nodded:

"It makes sense, but how do I put myself in danger?"

"That's simple."

Shard reached into his coat, glanced around, and pulled the Spear of Kindness from the gun holster, laying it on the table in front of Mr. Jimms, whose face was filled with shock:

"With this."

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