Super Righteous Player
Chapter 987 - 45 Psychotherapy

Chapter 987: Chapter 45 Psychotherapy

Annan wasn’t sure if it was psychological, or if the venom had actually taken effect.

As soon as he began to search the living room, he started to feel a slight warmth in his left leg where the snake had bitten him.

There was no pain or numbness, instead, a warm stream seemed to flow slowly through his left leg.

But this sensation...

Annan’s expression became subtly nuanced.

...It didn’t feel like a snake bite, it seemed more like he had wet his pants.

"Is this really Bernadino’s dream?"

Annan realized.

Because there were no memories or knowledge of being bitten by a snake in his mind, had it automatically replaced with similar material?

Then this dream hadn’t crashed due to lack of key materials, which was more advanced than a spring dream.

"Hm? What is this..."

Annan suddenly noticed Bernadino’s calendar.

It resembled a calendar, but with only one month, directly attached to the wall.

There was no year noted, but the month of September was visible.

Annan leaned in to investigate.

From the first to the twenty-seventh, each day was circled in red. Something was written beneath in black ink.

On comparing, he could vaguely make out that the same word was written on each day’s schedule.

"Practice"

"Practice"

"Practice"

...

From the first to the twenty-ninth, the same word covered each day. It was a pointless calendar. Only three days were not marked in red.

This meant it was probably the evening of the twenty-seventh or twenty-eighth.

—But in the spot for the thirtieth, a completely different word was written.

In red ink, it read... "Murder."

The moment Annan recognized the word, a sudden draft of cold air whipped through the living room.

The room’s lights flickered violently before suddenly going out.

Sounds of objects falling and breaking occurred incessantly, as if someone was unreasonably sweeping everything off the table.

When the lights brightened again, the previously intact living room had turned into ruins.

"...Okay, if the priest returns now, I think little Bern would deserve a beating."

Annan sighed.

Everything breakable in the room was shattered.

Even the living room table had collapsed on one leg. Everything on it had slid off, and the fish tank showed signs of being smashed, with dead fish floating inside.

In the fish tank, there were broken pieces of plaster and the unblinking head of Father Ludwig.

The head lay quietly at the bottom of the tank.

Annan glanced over and could see a faint, barely there smile.

Just then, Annan heard the sound of something rolling.

Looking down, he found a soccer ball-like head of Father Ludwig had rolled over and settled by his feet.

"It seems like it’s really out for the priest’s head."

Annan couldn’t help but comment sarcastically, "That’s the third time now, how many heads does your family have?"

If it weren’t for other players watching outside, he’d even start to hum an impromptu nursery rhyme right now.

The priest’s head, like a ball...

Honestly, when he saw that spherical object rolling over, he really wanted to kick it away.

Annan stepped past the head that had rolled in from who knows where and saw a shredded piece of paper that had slipped off the desk.

Fortunately, it was the lower half of the paper.

Although it was torn off at an angle, from the remaining part, it could be inferred that it was something akin to a psychological assessment form.

"... (torn) combined with interventional therapy."

"... (torn) the rituals that the subject underwent included ’Forced Calmness (medium: Herbaceous flower),’ ’Desire Dilution.’ The intensity of the rituals was weak."

"The recommended spells for the patient were ’Memory Reading’ and ’Memory Fabrication.’ No post-treatment adverse reactions anticipated."

"Current mental state is good. Recommend reducing work stress, ensuring a light diet and sufficient sleep, and regaining composure at home. To undergo the ritual and remove negative memories in two weeks."

"Is this, psychological treatment?"

murmured Annan.

He vaguely realized something.

It seemed that the events of those years were not as simple as he had initially thought.

But the question was... Was this treatment for Father Ludwig, or for Bernadino?

He put down the document in his hand.

When he looked up, Annan’s pupils slightly constricted.

The room, which had been closed, had somehow been opened.

Father Ludwig was standing there, looking at him indifferently.

"What are you doing?"

The priest’s stern voice seemed to echo in his ears, "Don’t waste time."

It was then that Annan realized that the figure blocking his path wasn’t the real priest... but a statue of Father Ludwig.

On closer inspection, some differences could still be discerned. The expression had traces of stiffness. Part of the reason Annan was startled was due to the dim lighting, another reason was seeing this the moment he looked up.

But if it was a sculpture made by Bernadino himself... Its quality would be too high.

Is this really the level of someone who studied sculpture for just two years?

At this moment, Annan felt a surge of heat and dizziness sweep over his body.

He faintly heard someone calling him... but he couldn’t make out anything.

His vision spun, and he felt intense nausea.

Annan suddenly felt like he was about to fall—he instinctively leaned against the wall, using the cane in his left hand to prop himself up.

But he almost immediately realized.

A cane?

What cane?

Did I have a cane in my left hand before?

Annan remembered he had just been reviewing the psychological assessment form, and he quickly realized—he couldn’t have had anything else in his hand before.

He lifted his left hand and carefully examined the metal cane that had inexplicably appeared in his grasp.

It was a black, heavy cane.

To call it a cane was almost inaccurate; its shape was closer to that of a crowbar. The end nearest the ground had a small, sharp point, better suited for exerting force. The side he held was wrapped in bandages.

Rather than calling it a walking cane, it was more like a weapon for attacking someone.

Annan swung it slightly, emitting a whooshing whistling sound.

He momentarily froze.

Somewhat disbelieving, he swung it a couple more times. This time targeting, he easily shattered the flowerpot on the windowsill with a single strike.

Then, he aimed at the table that was already missing a leg.

Swinging with force once more, he broke another leg of the table.

If someone’s head were to be hit by this thing... it would likely be cracked open on the spot.

"This thing..."

Annan couldn’t help but exclaim, "Feels so handy!"