On the 8th day of the 2nd month, the first batch of the migrating birds arrived in Dulin after having been away for a long time. These sojourning travelers made a racket in the fresh and cool morning. At this time every day, the eaves of the Dulin Scott Cathedral would be covered with white doves, as well as some with mixed colors. The clergymen who got up early would scatter the breadcrumbs swept out from the dining room onto the lawn of the yard. The green grass had just produced new buds, resembling a Persian cashmere rug. The doves were pecking away competitively at it. A large gaggle of wild geese had descended from the sky; the first batch of the migrating birds referred to them. They had massive builds and their feathers had a glossy shine to them. The uninterested doves were quickly driven back to the eaves.
His Imperial Highness Prince O'Neil Andrew Morisette did not sleep a wink the entire night... as a result of his busy work schedule. He and the staff officers had finalized two covert operations beyond the borders in the early morning of the 7th. He had also sat through three important briefings.
It was 7 o'clock in the morning. His Highness the Prince took a carriage and rushed to the church. He was utterly exhausted, but he did not dare rush his eyes.
The cathedral kept a few healthy Black Danes. Prince O'Neil loves them. Today, he brought a few pieces of fresh beef as usual. When the Danes caught sight of the young man, they crowded around him starting salivating. However, during the feeding process, an incident occurred. A male dog suddenly threw itself onto another male dog. Oscar lost his former love for pets. He aimed a kick at the male dog that was on the other dog and then said to it deadpan, "Ignorant... " Then, he left. His Imperial Highness detoured through the botanical garden that was filled with seeds of the flowers, passed through the cloister that was filled with doves that had settled down on it and arrived at the destination of this trip after passing through an iron gate inlaid with silver. It was a small cemetery. The Imperial Household members who had died prematurely before being born were buried here. Between the spring tiger orchid and bare laurel trees, there were dozens of white marble gravestones. Oscar scared the magpies that were blocking the way away and came to a halt before his child that was not born.
"Are you doing okay?" the young prince touched the gravestone gently. Although all he felt was ice-cold dews, the man's eyes emanated with unprecedented warmth.
"Did you like the story yesterday?" Oscar stared at the gravestone. He was hoping to feel even the slightest of movements coming from the stone, and as a result was naturally rather disappointed.
"Very well... it's not good for a little guy like you to be so picky!" Oscar spread his hands in compromise. He simply sat on the ground and leaned against the gravestone of his son or daughter with his shoulders.
"Today I bring an even better story. I hope you like it! Once upon a time... there was a person called Leon, Arsea Crelini's drug dealer. He only does business with trustworthy people. However, one time..."
***************
"He came again..." Paul snorted. He complained while he massaged the muscles at the corner of his eyes. This man before him, who was facing the gravestone muttering to himself, had already worked through twenty-nine hours.
If this still wasn't enough, then the most ridiculous thing was that he had to listen to all the nonsensical hymn-singing choir in the church before being able to fall asleep.
"Doesn't this one count?" Messier pouted in the direction of the small cemetery. "Today is the story of the great drug dealer. Yesterday was the narration of the story of Godot, the devil ax-killer. The day before yesterday was the development and current state of the Cecil Mafia... Isn't it outrageous for him to be telling these stories... to such a young soul as though they were nursery rhymes?"
Paul made a gesture to silence him immediately. "Lower your voice! Don't let him hear!"
Messier whipped his head away in anger, but half a second later he turned back reluctantly, "Paul, people like us are still unable to persuade His Highness the Prince. Moreover, we dare not! But you are different! You are his friend, he will listen to you."
"What do you intend to do?" Paul eyed the Head of the Military Intelligence that was intelligent and was most of the time regarded as a man of deceit with vigilance.
"What do I intend to do? I want to make him buck him and make him get excited. Just look at how he is now!" cried Messier while he was spreading his hands toward the seemingly mentally ill prince. "You see? His face is etched with sorrow, his eyes are weary, the unhealthy flush of the skin is known as withering, and the fact that he had no contact with women for more than half a month is known as..."
"Enough is enough!" Paul promptly stopped him. "Tell me, what do you intend to do?"
Messier gazed momentarily at Paul, whose face was written with hope and in the end murmured in the assassin's ear. However, as soon as Paul heard it he immediately wanted to cry out, but Messier cupped his hand over his mouth.
"Not a sound! Not a sound! If Oscar hears of it he will kill us, we can't say for sure..."
***************
With that said, at nine o'clock in the morning when the Dulin Scott Cathedral just rang the bell of the early Mass, a group of fully-armed Narcissus Knights appeared at the corner of the church's main street. The flag bearers in the lead kept blowing whistles, signifying to the others to make way. The carriages and stream of people on the street moved aside one after another.
The knights guarded an unremarkable carriage. Not long after that, the carriage came to a halt before the huge church doors. The Narcissus knights immediately crowded up. Using shields and horses, they guarded the body of the carriage. They even formed long lineups that could only accommodate one person on either side of the paved pathway leading to the great hall of the church.
The nearby crowd did not seem to have the slightest curiosity, despite the fact that the Narcissus Knight's actions were unusually odd. Perhaps they had all heard that His Highness Prince O'Neil Andrew Morisette had already treated the Dulin Scott as a free hotel. He had already stayed at the church for more than a week.
The carriage door opened and a portly man, who was covered in a cloak, jumped down clumsily. He cut through the slightly crowded human wall until the doors to the Holy Mass Hall of the church slowly closed behind him.
Maslow Riodre was the name of the mysterious guest. Under normal circumstances, people would relate a paunchy man who seemed like a glutton to a chef or a pig-like animal. However, such a perception was not completely accurate. Take Maslow Riodre for example, this stout man was the founder of modern psychology and animal behavior. It could be seen that there was no certain connection between fats and intelligence.
Oscar was very clear about his state. He also knew that this was not a normal thing. This was because no one would have to listen to the choir singing hymns to sleep. Oscar himself was not too clear about… the cause of the matter, but according to Murat's explanation, the cause of the matter was that of the 25th of the 1st month.
***************
On the 25th day of the 1st month, Oscar made his way out of Hamilton Palace dejectedly. He dragged Torry and a group of trustworthy people for drinks... or one could also say, whoring. However, to be honest, the round of drinks was not very cheerful. This was because Oscar only drank, but did not speak or entertain the women who were seducing him... All of them were affected by him.
It seemed that... on the night of the 25th, only Torry appeared very elated, as he did not expect to be able to stimulate the memories of his single life after having just gotten married not too long ago. However, a person with such huge nerves was not very common. The high-ranking generals that were trusted aides, the brain trusts, and bodyguards that knew His Highness the Prince well, could detect a few clues regarding this matter.
It was only until later was it only known that… it was a huge matter! Perhaps he wanted to leave Dulin. In fact, Oscar had indeed already set the date of departure. He planned to ignore Alanis, who had nothing to say, and the wretched incident of leaked secrets. He made up his mind to leave Dulin. However, before he left, he mysteriously yearned to visit the unborn child... he and Alanis' child.
***************
That was a matter in the middle of the night of the 28th day of the 1st month. First of all, we knew that there was a problem with this time! In the dead of night, a group of torch-wielding Narcissus Knights and an exceedingly noble prince of the Empire strolled into the deserted church cemetery. Oscar produced some fresh flowers from who-knows-where and then saluted the gravestone. Murat was present at the scene, so he explained the matter. He said that... in the early hours of the morning, the head of the Andrew Family stood for a full two hours in the haunted cemetery of Dulin Scott Cathedral.
Was the cathedral haunted? That's right! This was the key! Murat did not know the thing his young master saw, but Oscar should have, indeed, perhaps, possibly, probably, seen something.
Otherwise, he pointed towards a spot with a trembling finger, breathing heavily. Then, his eyes rolled upwards and he fainted.
In other words... Murat did not know the thing that Oscar saw. He knew that the head of the Andrews, the Marshal, passed out without reason. Just like a person with heart disease, he clutched his chest and with his mouth wide open, fainted!
This was a matter that took place in the dead of night. The wretched Percy was taking care of the assassin who struggled against drug addiction on the Swan Hill. He did not witness the things that happened to Oscar. So first of all, the first reaction of Murat and all the knights present was to draw their swords and issue a warning! They thought that their master had encountered an ambush. Moreover, he appeared to be on the verge of death. Hence, Murat and the Narcissus Knights were not in a hurry to ascertain Oscar's state but to look into everything that was worth being suspicious over. We should say that such a reaction was exceedingly proper, for guarding should be that way.
Next, the human shields, which completely shielded the prince with their bodies, finally realized that their master was not injured, but had instead lost consciousness. At that moment, no one dared to lift the alert. Thus, the dazed prince continued to lie on the ground pretending to be dead. After that... Murat and the knights put together their spears to make a stretcher. They carried the unconscious main character into the church and shouted loudly. They kept shouting their young master's name. Some that were weak-hearted cried on the spot and some who thought that they had let the assassin get away were about to end their own lives… In short, the scene that followed after was in great confusion!
"At last..." Oscar shot Paul a look that said "wait and see" and then only turned to face the doctor. "The surgeon can't find out what's wrong, the physician also thinks that I'm healthy, so... a few smart ass guys found you!"
Mr. Maslow Riodre rubbed the sweat from his forehead, beaming. It was indeed true that all fatties loved to sweat.
***************
"Your Royal Highness, does being referred to as a psychiatrist make you feel repulsed... or is it just that a little unbelievable?"
Oscar still wanted to shoot another gaze at Paul, but he knew that Snowstorm had already slipped out of the door.
"I can't talk about it, and I don't think it's that unbelievable. I just don't quite understand this matter before my eyes!" Oscar declared his feelings truthfully.
Maslow scrunched up the fat on his face. It could be seen that he was trying to put on a harmless look.
"To be honest, Your Imperial Highness, I'm very much surprised when I saw you. Furthermore, I find it a little unbelievable! Because… because you're O'Neil Andrew Morisette! You're the prince of the Empire, the husband of Her Majesty Empress, the leader of the Narcissus Knights, the Marshal of the Imperial Guards. If you were to have a serious mental health problem…"
"Ola, this conversation is over!" Oscar stood up impatiently. Just listen to what the self-righteous, wretched fatty before him was saying! A serious mental health problem? If it weren't for Paul using his own life to vouch for this pig, he believed that he would have long since swung his sword at him…
"Your Highness! Your Highness!" Maslow wiggled his whole body of fat in alarm. He was not concerned about the conversation therapy with O'Neil Andrew Morisette. What he feared was that dreaded command from the head officer of the Military Intelligence – if he could not strike up an hour-long conversation with His Highness the Prince, he would have to go to the Zorangash Wetlands for hard labor.
"Hold on! Are you afraid of a psychiatrist? This isn't a joke? You have never feared all the difficulties spread out before you!"
Oscar retracted his eagerness to stand up. He did not deny that the fatty's flattery was quite considerate.
"You see, no matter what, I'm also a doctor. You have to describe the situation at that time for me!" Maslow made a huge effort in coaxing the highly noble Imperial Highness Prince.
Oscar settled back into the sofa. It was not that he did not want to bring it up, but the whole matter was indeed exceedingly weird.
"I saw my son!"
"Your son?" Maslow was a little doubtful. "You don't have a son."
"But I saw him!" Oscar turned to face the outside and pointed. "Right in the cemetery! That night! He was wearing red, fox fur waistcoat lined with gold edges. When I greeted him, he kept shouting that he wanted to visit his mother… he went on and on!"
"Then?"
"Then I felt breathless and I couldn't say a word. There was a white spot in my eyes that gradually expanded. That little rascal's cries made it impossible for me to think. I wanted to call for Murat to stop him, but he gave me a punch and then I didn't know a thing!"
Maslow nodded slightly. "Very well, you and Her Majesty have a son, right here in the cemetery!"
Oscar scratched his head. "Yes! But I know it's not true!"
"No!" The psychiatrist denied the prince's reply resolutely. "This is not the case! You and the Queen really have a son, right here in this cemetery! So that's why you would hurry to the church early in the morning. To give him flowers. To tell him stories!"
Oscar pursed his lips. He wondered whether the psychiatrist had lost it.
"You didn't see the child's appearance right?"
Oscar nodded.
"You only saw his clothes and heard his voice right?"
Oscar nodded again.
Maslow spread his hand and said, "Please recall carefully. Other than the night on which you fainted, have you ever seen that red fox fur waistcoat lined with gold edges anywhere else? Have you ever heard that voice shouting loudly, searching for mother?"
"Ola..." Having been reminded, Oscar suddenly gave a startled cry, but in the end, he still shook his head. "I... I don't know...I can't recall!"
The psychiatrist secretly celebrated his luck. If the Prince thought of anything, it could instead make the following conversation impossible to carry out.
"Then let us look at this issue in another way!" Maslow clasped his hands together. He stared into Oscar's eyes. He believed that very few men as young as the prince could have such accomplishments. "Let us say that... the matter itself of your seeing a little boy dressed in a red fox fur waistcoat lined with gold edges, calling out for his mother incessantly, creates a signal that causes your whole body to become incapacitated, or perhaps… this signal creates an unbearable stress on your body and mind, resulting in your body instinctively losing its functions!"
"Stress? Signal?" Oscar sized up the massive fatty, unconvinced. He felt that the psychiatrist was not much different from a magician with a magic wand.
"Yes!" Maslow was not sure of the prince's impression of him. He was still dancing and gesturing with joy. "The stress is the signal! In the face of stress, humans will make a signal type of response! And what is a signal-type response? Let me give an example!"
Oscar watched wretched portly man draw a small boy with a waistcoat on the cardboard he brought.
"The red waistcoat, the voice calling for mother! These are signal responses! However, you have to be clear that you're actually not reacting to the waistcoat and the call for mother. Instead, you responded to another matter. This reaction of yours was presented in your consciousness towards the boy in the waistcoat calling for mother!"
Oscar covered his mouth. He originally respected these professionals just as he respected Thirteen, but he was already really impatient.
His Highness the Prince flung the cardboard to one side and sized up the wretched fatty, with an intense glance as though he was an idiot. "Ola... Mr. Maslow! What I want to know right now is why are we freaking blathering on about a waistcoat, a voice and a faceless boy for?"
Oscar leaned in close towards the psychiatrist's face, "My time is very limited. I believe it is also that way for you! If you blurt any more nonsense on this matter, then I will have to ask you to leave, leave through that window. Do you understand?"
Maslow again broke into a sweat. He flicked his eyes towards the only window in the room. Outside the window was the steeple of the church's annex building. This meant that this window was not at an ordinary height.
"Then... then let us change the topic!" The psychiatrist had to settle for the next best thing.
Oscar leaned back against the sofa. He felt that he must be mad. Otherwise, who else would cast aside a huge stack of documents that urgently had to be dealt with to accompany a fat pig of a psychiatrist on a conversation here?
"How's your appetite recently?" Maslow expressed a relaxed, professional smile.
Oscar scoffed. "I've heard of this profession of you guys. Is it officially starting?"
The psychiatrist shook his head. "My questions will not take up too much of your time. Besides, this is just the first time. If will do whether you consider this as a friendly chat, or consider this as a kind of start."
Oscar heaved a sigh. "Okay... my appetite is horrible! It's been that way since I returned from Deiss. If there's an opportunity in future, I will definitely skin and dismember the body of the guy who removed quite a few segments of my intestines! He has made my gastrointestinal tract become an interchange station. However the food enters, that is how it leaves!"
Maslow shrugged. "I'm sorry to hear that. You have lost the pleasure that good food brings!"
Oscar gritted his teeth and moaned, "Who said not?"
The psychiatrist quickly wrote several notes on his notebook, and then he lifted his fat double chin. "Your Highness, do you feel… safe?"
"From what aspect?" Oscar was slightly puzzled.
Maslow shrugged. "For example... your job, your family, your marriage, your personal safety. Have you ever worried about not being able to return in the evening after leaving in the morning?"
Oscar gave another snort of laughter. "Sir, please take a look at me! Look carefully! Let us not talk about anything else. How much sense of security do you think a person, who is covered with arrow sores and sword scars… and also had a section of his intestines removed, have? I can say without any exaggeration that if there aren't ten thousand people in this world who constantly wants me dead, then there is at least a thousand! From Dulin stretching on to the east, they can form lines up to Andrew Haila. Towards the north, they can form lines up to Borensberg. Towards the south…"
"Your Highness, I understand!" Maslow broke off the prince's lament. He just knew that the answer would be like this. The story of this Empress' husband had long been widely circulated. The people believed that his feats were built on a medal in a pool of blood and it is indeed so.
"So... I have one thing that I don't understand from the start!" the big fatty eyed the little fatty who obviously regarded him with disdain. "You probably know, I was… you can consider it as being abducted by your subordinates! It was your subordinates who kidnapped me here. I was very surprised to see you because I didn't believe that a prominent figure like you would have a psychological problem!"
"I don't have any psychological problems!" Oscar practically snarled.
"Good, good! You don't have any psychological problems!" Maslow agreed hurriedly. "Can you tell me? You are the Empress' husband, the prince of the Empire, the leader of the God-chosen warriors, the Marshal of the Imperial Guards! You wield power simply beyond the imagination of outsiders! Aside from these, what else do you want? What is your life goal? Aren't you and your subordinates about to go out? Where is your destination? Don't tell me that it's Vielonna, because that's not the endpoint. I want to know where you're going to end?"
Oscar was struck dazed by the string of questions! Life goal, destination, endpoint, and where will he consider it the end?
Maslow assessed at the young prince whose gaze was flitting around. He was unsure of his own speculation, because if things were really as he guessed, then O'Neil Andrew Morisette's problem would be serious.
"Ola..." Oscar finally decided to say something, but when he opened his mouth, he only emitted such a groan, "I'm only… doing the right things! At least what I think is right!"
The psychiatrist shook his head gently. "A person tends to look at problems with prejudice! Even the gods are incapable of strictly setting what is right and wrong. How do you know whether your judgment is correct? If there is no goal or one that is worth your while, a mission to fight for, then how much meaning will there on whether you're doing the right or wrong thing?"
Oscar averted his head away. He stared out of the window, seemingly considering whether or not to throw the heavy object that appeared to weigh two hundred kilograms out. This was because he couldn't answer the other person's question. Furthermore, he was incapable of facing his conducts and deeds. This was not the first time. It was not the first time he questioned his own wisdom. It was also not his first time to question all his efforts in surviving. However, this was the first time that someone brought up this issue to him and gave him resolutions to such a problem. That wretched fatty seemed to be saying, "O'Neil Andrew Morisette, all the food that you have eaten since young has gone to waste!"
"Forget about it, Your Highness! You're still young..." The psychiatrist seemed to have given up on another course of treatment. That demeanor was like consoling someone who was about to set foot into a coffin.
"Tell me about your family, if you're willing to!"
Oscar's gaze was still wandering outside the window. Just that this time he had learned from experience. "My family? Don't tell me you don't know just how the Andrew Family and Imperial Household of Morisette are like?"
"No Your Highness!" Maslow shook his head. "If you understand the family as the Andrews and the Imperial Household, then I think you may have gotten it wrong! In my opinion, "Your family is you and your wife. How is your relationship with Her Majesty? Do you feel that… Her Majesty loves you like an ordinary woman?"
Oscar simply stood up from the couch. He walked to the window and sunlight spilled onto his face.
His image was reflected in the glass window. The young man scrutinized his appearance. He wanted to lie, but he felt that if he were to conceal anything regarding this matter, he would be akin to a pitiful creature.
"Alanis... loves me!"
"Are you sure?"
The Prince of the Empire whipped around. His anger surged with an unusual ferocity and almost berserk.
"What do you mean? What do you take me for? A delusional idiot? A silly kid who doesn't know what love is? Are you calling for me to question my wife? You are..."
"What is love? How do you understand the love that your wife gives you?" The psychiatrist ignored the other's intimidation.
Oscar sniffed. How did he understand the love that Alanis gave him? Why must it be Alanis? He had Sasha, he had Arayna, he had Vijdeline, he had Antonia, he also had an adopted daughter... all these, he could probably speak for. However, why did it necessarily have to be Alanis? He couldn't explain the things that Alanis gave him. If it was understood as simply loving one another, then why did they arrive at this field today? What was with this current situation? Did Alanis change? Or had his feelings for her simply never been accepted?
"Your Highness, let's not go in circles! Vent out your anger even more fiercely. The psychiatrist shook his massive body. He seemed to have prepared for the worst. "Do you have any feelings of being loved? I restrict this feeling to only Her Majesty Empress. Come on and answer me! Is there?"
Oscar slumped back into the sofa again. He was exhausted. He had slept for only four hours in two days.
"Yes... there definitely should be..." His Royal Highness Prince practically groaned.
"But you're not sure!" said Maslow Riodre said while jotting down a few conclusions.
"No! On the contrary, I'm quite sure!" Oscar widened his eyes with all his relentlessly.
The psychiatrist did not deny His Highness directly. He just shook his head continuously to show his uncertainty about the answer.
"Last question!" Maslow slowly rose from his seat. Although this conversation had not lasted for an hour, this psychological specialist felt that it was enough.
"Do you have any friends? This friend shouldn't be your subordinate, neither should them be your wife or mistress. More so, they should not be the person who remains favorable to you for a living! This friend is just your friend and has no relations to interests, no difference in terms of level and status."
Oscar was tongue-tied. He did not want to appear too pathetic. He was trying his best to search for such a person. However, considering he did not know that many people, and on top of that, with the doctor's restrictions...
"You don't have any! I just knew it was like this..." Maslow had already opened the door, "I apologize... for bothering you!"
Oscar gazed at the huge closed door and lit a cigar. He set himself to be engulfed by the smoke.
No one knew why the fierce and menacing looking Imperial Guards imposed emergency measures on the Dulin Scott Cathedral. The clergymen, pastors, and bishops were ordered to stay in their respective rooms. Even when it was time to replace the candles for the altar lamp, no one bothered to do so. The few chaps who were prying around outside the church doors also suffered a few good beatings without exception. Usually, only the street patrol would treat the citizens that way. It seemed that the knights guarding this place had definitely received the order to take action.
His Imperial Highness the Prince O'Neil Andrew Morisette's followers, subordinates, and... in short, everyone, had gathered in the mass hall of the church, and the image of God was on the spiritual platform. These people who, for a variety of reasons, cared dearly for His Highness the Prince, passed their time in prayer, until Messier, whose face was etched with anxiety, strode out through the corner gate of the inner hall together with the psychiatrist who had an unlucky aura about him.
The men abandoned the gods and went forward to welcome them. "How is His Highness?" This was everyone's question.
"He's fine!" Dr. Maslow nodded with certainty. "However, in some aspects, he is already no different from a dead...
"You're asking to die!" Devil Sandy was the first to grab the huge fatty by the collar. However, he realized that General Murat, who had yet to utter a word, was truly the first. He had only caught hold of the hand of the Commander of the Cavalry. Thus, he just made a gesture toward Murat that indicated "after you".
Messier made a great effort to pry Murat's his fingers away from the psychiatrist's neck. "Everyone, don't be so on edge! Mr. Maslow is my friend and an expert in diagnosing and treating mental health problems. We should always listen to his analysis!"
Maslow rubbed his neck and straightened his attire. In fact, he really had nothing to say. O'Neil Andrew Morisette was beyond cure.
"Actually... I only inquired about five extremely simple questions! These five questions are necessary for a person's existence in the world! Everybody, guess how our Highness Prince answered!"
"What kind of five questions?" Paul was the first to ask about it. He had long felt that his little friend had traits of profound psychological abnormalities.
"The first question was how was His Highness the Prince's appetite!" Maslow said while calling for everyone to take a seat. He realized it was more comfortable facing a room full of sinister-looking military personnel than facing O'Neil Andrew Morisette.
"I believe this issue is best to be understood! This concerns a person's most fundamental issue related to a person's survival index. What is it when a person's basic needs bear the brunt of it? Naturally, it is to safeguard the life force! If a person does not want to think about his needs, it would be odd if his physical and mental health holds out!"
Paul nodded subconsciously. "Yesterday, he drank nine cups of black coffee and ate only a cat-poop sized cheese."
"This is what it is!" Maslow rolled his eyes. "Working away day and night, plus the extreme irregularities in diet and rest." I believe that anyone will experience symptoms such as dizziness, difficulty in breathing, and intermittent flashes of light in the eyes. If it is serious, it will be followed by hallucinations and lastly, a deep coma."
"He has all!" Murat muttered reluctantly.
"Furthermore!" the psychiatrist still had more to add. "I haven't looked deeper into the basis of His Highness the Prince's hallucinations. That must be a strong psychological hint. My initial surmise was the stress of surviving..."
"Tell us about the second question! You won't know what kind matters His Highness the Prince bears the burden of!" Murat did not intend to touch on Oscar's hallucinations or his hidden disease.
"Then the second question!" Professor Maslow from Dulin University extended two fingers simultaneously. "In a simulation of a human psychological evolution process, when these basic living conditions are satisfied, what will everyone consider next?"
Everyone at the scene had on clueless expressions.
"My gentlemen, it is another necessity for human survival — psychological security!" the huge fatty finally displayed self-confidence that only an advanced professor would have. "The concept of security is too broad. Diet security, travel safety, family safety, social security, public security... as long as you're human, you will have security concerns about things, matters, everything! However, for most of us, His Highness the Prince's situation is a special case and truly exceptional! He grew up living in an extremely unsafe environment, which led him to have an even more profound concern towards danger compared to that of a child who grew up playing with spoons and dolls! I'm guessing that when he encounters danger, his reaction will be inevitably extreme. His misgivings and suspicious heart when pondering about security issues are also…"
"Seriously, forget about it…" Devil Sandy again cried. "His Highness the Prince is a soldier, a leader of the God-chosen Warriors. If he were like a civil servant..."
"This is just an excuse!" Maslow firmly lashed back in a low voice. "Don't use his status to hide his fragile psychological security! In some people and certain matters, excessively keyed-up psychological security will lead to deterioration of the entire matter! You all can take this as the so-called paranoia!"
"Perhaps the Head of the Military Intelligence Bureau, this official post in the Secret Service Domain, or perhaps his identity and status pushed him to develop a psychological security that is more solid than the average person. However, this defensive line should have at times been loosened. This is the normal way of thinking and having it is the correct method of regarding this security issue. As for His Highness the Prince, he didn't care at all about other things when he answered questions about security. His mind was filled with ways to preserve his life! But, in reality? The problem isn't as serious as he imagined. He is driven by inertia thinking to carry out a defense. Of course, his attack is also the result of this manner of thinking!"
The people did not speak. Although O'Neil Andrew Morisette had never reflected any severe paranoia, he did perform hysterically when resisting and attacking. It is believed that a certain number of people still remember that he had let Monia Amerson fire a shot near his heart. Thinking about it... she was probably the only person under the heavens who had ever done such a thing.
"Tell us about the third question!" Murat was a little impatient. He already realized that the subject of discussion was an extremely dangerous and eccentric person, and the most unacceptable thing was that he had to follow such a guy to the ends of the earth.
"Huuu..." the psychiatrist heaved a sigh. "Everyone knows this is a step-by-step problem. It is the most fundamental basis to test a person's psychological health...
"Don't blab about all this nonsense! Third question!" Paul interrupted the huge fatty, flustered and exasperated. Without having arrived at the end, he wouldn't admit that his young little friend had suffered from severe mental illness. However, quite the contrary, he knew that the little lady was indeed not really healthy. This kind of awareness was really made one so depressed that they want to slam themselves against the wall
"Okay, okay, as everybody wishes!" Professor Maslow spread his hand reluctantly. "The third question is derived from the first and second problems, or you can say that... it is a psychological problem that complements each other! If the first two problems don't achieve acceptable results, then the third problem is to seek a solution to the problem. Let's say... we don't have enough to eat, don't have clothes that keep us warm, splashed by water when we leave home, bullied by the dogs when we walk along, then we will know that this kind of living condition should be changed. Go earn money to raise and feed a family, do physical exercise, and pray for God to bless you. We will always have a goal to strive for. Nevertheless, we must always have a goal to strive on for."
Maslow swept his gaze over the crowd on the scene, "Of course, people who spend their lives doing nothing and live out mediocre lives are everywhere! However, everyone has at least one dream, has at least imagined what the kind of life he wants looks like! However, as for Highness Prince O'Neil Andrew Morisette, after having hesitated over and over again, told me that he just wanted to do what he believed to be the right! In other words, he had absolutely no clue as to what he wanted!"
"Is this a very serious psychological problem?" Paul was a little astonished. He was an unambitious kind of guy. He did not think that there was much difference between running a kind of pig breeding farm and doing nothing.
"Of course this is a serious psychological problem!" Maslow stared at the King of Assassins, expressing a look of disbelief. "Could it be that this is considered the living attitude of a normal person? Don't try to use His Highness the Prince's impressive prestige and unrivaled feats to brush me aside. I've already seen through him. His demands regarding his life, this world, the people he's closest with, everything, is practically zero! And demands of a step further will bring us back to the second question, which is, anything that threatens him will be destroyed! Anything that he believes to be necessary or to be correct, he will set his heart on it and invest in it, without questioning why he should do it."
The psychiatrist wiped the beads of sweat on his forehead. He was about to enter the most dangerous topic.
"It now appears that... most of Prince O'Neil Andrew Morisette's actions, driven by a security inertia, are correct responses. However, if one day, under the circumstance where he has no clear goals and purpose, he made a mistake, then the unfortunate will not only be him but that includes all of you here, even the country! Because even he himself doesn't know where this matter will take him. Don't tell me that such a situation is still not considered dangerous?"
"You... you make me think that His Highness is... a beast or some other thing that has no spirit and no brains! But I know that he's not like this!" Messier spat out the sentence with difficulty.
"Yeah! So where did the problem arise from?" Dr. Maslow beamed while assessing the Head of the Military Intelligence.
"Look at answers His Highness gave for the last two questions!"
The psychiatrist took out his notes. Until now, he still can't believe that O'Neil Andrew Morisette could accomplish today's reputation and status in this state of mind. Perhaps the God of Light was really taking painstaking care of His chosen warriors.
"The fourth question is the giving of love. The fifth question is based on the survival information collected in social interaction!" The psychiatrist pointed to his notes, "the fourth question is very easy to understand. The God of Light praises love. The gentlemen present here are all experienced, especially the General of the Artillery Soldiers. I have heard of your distinguished name."
Torry gave a laugh. He knew that his reputation was not very pleasant.
"Love is given to both sides. To return to the basics, love or not to love is to believe or not to believe! Your Highness Prince does not believe, does not firmly believe and does not dare to believe. He is in a state where he lacks self-confidence due to security reasons!"
"Young Lady..."
Dr. Maslow waved his hand, preventing General Murat from voicing his thoughts. "I'm talking about him and Her Majesty! A woman whom he professed to love and to be loved by."
"This does not seem to be a one-sided problem of His Highness the Prince!" Baron Messier finally expressed a smile, "His Imperial Highness the Prince and Her Majesty Empress..."
"That's enough! Is there anything else that is one-sided between husband and wife?" Maslow shot a look at the Head of the Military Intelligence dismissively. "I indeed do not know what happened between His Highness the Prince and Her Majesty, and I do not wish to involve politics or any other triggering factors in it. If it is merely from the perspective of psychology, the giving of love should be something that is given generously to confess each other's love instead of repeatedly calculating gains and losses and comparing each other's sincerity. If they do this, love would not be love, but only something that numbs each other's conscience to cover up the actual truth!"
"Numbs each other's conscience? Cover up the actual truth?"
The people present exchanged meaningful glances with one another. They all felt that it was time to inquire about the fifth question because Her Majesty and His Highness the Prince had already numbed each other's conscience and made extreme efforts to cover up the truth.
"Based on the survival information gathered from social interaction!" Maslow still fancied the term he made up on his own more. "It refers to social information, collection and use. Information collection includes not only learning but also normal communication. His Highness Prince O'Neil Andrew Morisette's academic performance is highly praised by Marshal Robin, but when it comes to normal social interaction... it seems that aside from you few close officers and followers, he has not had any mutual influential contacts with anyone else. He does not have any relationships with less violent friends, nor is he a respected guest in any Shalon or a certain club. Perhaps his Highness does not care about these, but more so it was is the simple psychological fate he abided by. The consequences of this lack of communication naturally cause the deviation towards the use of survival information..."
"Get to the point!" Paul was already about to break down.
The psychologist spread his hands and shrugged. "He doesn't know how to get along with people and he doesn't know how to use the information he gets from people. This kind of information can provide him with the confidence in dealing with people and catalyze his love towards others. Once he gives out his love explicitly, he will naturally know what he wants. Once he has something he wants, he will have to work hard for it. Striving for one's ideal goal is a progressive, step-by-step process as well as a learning process. During this process, he will discover what he lacks and he can also unearth happiness, sadness, honor, faith, and so on and so forth! Then, in order to sustain this process, he needs to draw life force to maintain his body and energy!"
The Dulin Scott Cathedral fell into a momentary silence. Perhaps Dr. Maslow doubted whether the people present understood O'Neil Andrew Morisette's mental state, so he made a conclusive summary towards the end.
"His Highness's answers to the five questions are a complete loss. This can only indicate that his psychological deficiency is practically incurable. This is because his mental development was thrown into an environment that subverts the norm too early on..."
A loud noise interrupted the psychiatrist's exposition and O'Neil Andrew Morisette tumbled out from the little corner door, once again falling into a deep coma.
On the 8th day of the 2nd month, the first batch of the migrating birds arrived in Dulin after having been away for a long time. These sojourning travelers made a racket in the fresh and cool morning. At this time every day, the eaves of the Dulin Scott Cathedral would be covered with white doves, as well as some with mixed colors. The clergymen who got up early would scatter the breadcrumbs swept out from the dining room onto the lawn of the yard. The green grass had just produced new buds, resembling a Persian cashmere rug. The doves were pecking away competitively at it. A large gaggle of wild geese had descended from the sky; the first batch of the migrating birds referred to them. They had massive builds and their feathers had a glossy shine to them. The uninterested doves were quickly driven back to the eaves.
His Imperial Highness Prince O'Neil Andrew Morisette did not sleep a wink the entire night... as a result of his busy work schedule. He and the staff officers had finalized two covert operations beyond the borders in the early morning of the 7th. He had also sat through three important briefings.
It was 7 o'clock in the morning. His Highness the Prince took a carriage and rushed to the church. He was utterly exhausted, but he did not dare rush his eyes.
The cathedral kept a few healthy Black Danes. Prince O'Neil loves them. Today, he brought a few pieces of fresh beef as usual. When the Danes caught sight of the young man, they crowded around him starting salivating. However, during the feeding process, an incident occurred. A male dog suddenly threw itself onto another male dog. Oscar lost his former love for pets. He aimed a kick at the male dog that was on the other dog and then said to it deadpan, "Ignorant... " Then, he left. His Imperial Highness detoured through the botanical garden that was filled with seeds of the flowers, passed through the cloister that was filled with doves that had settled down on it and arrived at the destination of this trip after passing through an iron gate inlaid with silver. It was a small cemetery. The Imperial Household members who had died prematurely before being born were buried here. Between the spring tiger orchid and bare laurel trees, there were dozens of white marble gravestones. Oscar scared the magpies that were blocking the way away and came to a halt before his child that was not born.
"Are you doing okay?" the young prince touched the gravestone gently. Although all he felt was ice-cold dews, the man's eyes emanated with unprecedented warmth.
"Did you like the story yesterday?" Oscar stared at the gravestone. He was hoping to feel even the slightest of movements coming from the stone, and as a result was naturally rather disappointed.
"Very well... it's not good for a little guy like you to be so picky!" Oscar spread his hands in compromise. He simply sat on the ground and leaned against the gravestone of his son or daughter with his shoulders.
"Today I bring an even better story. I hope you like it! Once upon a time... there was a person called Leon, Arsea Crelini's drug dealer. He only does business with trustworthy people. However, one time..."
***************
"He came again..." Paul snorted. He complained while he massaged the muscles at the corner of his eyes. This man before him, who was facing the gravestone muttering to himself, had already worked through twenty-nine hours.
If this still wasn't enough, then the most ridiculous thing was that he had to listen to all the nonsensical hymn-singing choir in the church before being able to fall asleep.
"Doesn't this one count?" Messier pouted in the direction of the small cemetery. "Today is the story of the great drug dealer. Yesterday was the narration of the story of Godot, the devil ax-killer. The day before yesterday was the development and current state of the Cecil Mafia... Isn't it outrageous for him to be telling these stories... to such a young soul as though they were nursery rhymes?"
Paul made a gesture to silence him immediately. "Lower your voice! Don't let him hear!"
Messier whipped his head away in anger, but half a second later he turned back reluctantly, "Paul, people like us are still unable to persuade His Highness the Prince. Moreover, we dare not! But you are different! You are his friend, he will listen to you."
"What do you intend to do?" Paul eyed the Head of the Military Intelligence that was intelligent and was most of the time regarded as a man of deceit with vigilance.
"What do I intend to do? I want to make him buck him and make him get excited. Just look at how he is now!" cried Messier while he was spreading his hands toward the seemingly mentally ill prince. "You see? His face is etched with sorrow, his eyes are weary, the unhealthy flush of the skin is known as withering, and the fact that he had no contact with women for more than half a month is known as..."
"Enough is enough!" Paul promptly stopped him. "Tell me, what do you intend to do?"
Messier gazed momentarily at Paul, whose face was written with hope and in the end murmured in the assassin's ear. However, as soon as Paul heard it he immediately wanted to cry out, but Messier cupped his hand over his mouth.
"Not a sound! Not a sound! If Oscar hears of it he will kill us, we can't say for sure..."
***************
With that said, at nine o'clock in the morning when the Dulin Scott Cathedral just rang the bell of the early Mass, a group of fully-armed Narcissus Knights appeared at the corner of the church's main street. The flag bearers in the lead kept blowing whistles, signifying to the others to make way. The carriages and stream of people on the street moved aside one after another.
The knights guarded an unremarkable carriage. Not long after that, the carriage came to a halt before the huge church doors. The Narcissus knights immediately crowded up. Using shields and horses, they guarded the body of the carriage. They even formed long lineups that could only accommodate one person on either side of the paved pathway leading to the great hall of the church.
The nearby crowd did not seem to have the slightest curiosity, despite the fact that the Narcissus Knight's actions were unusually odd. Perhaps they had all heard that His Highness Prince O'Neil Andrew Morisette had already treated the Dulin Scott as a free hotel. He had already stayed at the church for more than a week.
The carriage door opened and a portly man, who was covered in a cloak, jumped down clumsily. He cut through the slightly crowded human wall until the doors to the Holy Mass Hall of the church slowly closed behind him.
Maslow Riodre was the name of the mysterious guest. Under normal circumstances, people would relate a paunchy man who seemed like a glutton to a chef or a pig-like animal. However, such a perception was not completely accurate. Take Maslow Riodre for example, this stout man was the founder of modern psychology and animal behavior. It could be seen that there was no certain connection between fats and intelligence.
Oscar was very clear about his state. He also knew that this was not a normal thing. This was because no one would have to listen to the choir singing hymns to sleep. Oscar himself was not too clear about… the cause of the matter, but according to Murat's explanation, the cause of the matter was that of the 25th of the 1st month.
***************
On the 25th day of the 1st month, Oscar made his way out of Hamilton Palace dejectedly. He dragged Torry and a group of trustworthy people for drinks... or one could also say, whoring. However, to be honest, the round of drinks was not very cheerful. This was because Oscar only drank, but did not speak or entertain the women who were seducing him... All of them were affected by him.
It seemed that... on the night of the 25th, only Torry appeared very elated, as he did not expect to be able to stimulate the memories of his single life after having just gotten married not too long ago. However, a person with such huge nerves was not very common. The high-ranking generals that were trusted aides, the brain trusts, and bodyguards that knew His Highness the Prince well, could detect a few clues regarding this matter.
It was only until later was it only known that… it was a huge matter! Perhaps he wanted to leave Dulin. In fact, Oscar had indeed already set the date of departure. He planned to ignore Alanis, who had nothing to say, and the wretched incident of leaked secrets. He made up his mind to leave Dulin. However, before he left, he mysteriously yearned to visit the unborn child... he and Alanis' child.
***************
That was a matter in the middle of the night of the 28th day of the 1st month. First of all, we knew that there was a problem with this time! In the dead of night, a group of torch-wielding Narcissus Knights and an exceedingly noble prince of the Empire strolled into the deserted church cemetery. Oscar produced some fresh flowers from who-knows-where and then saluted the gravestone. Murat was present at the scene, so he explained the matter. He said that... in the early hours of the morning, the head of the Andrew Family stood for a full two hours in the haunted cemetery of Dulin Scott Cathedral.
Was the cathedral haunted? That's right! This was the key! Murat did not know the thing his young master saw, but Oscar should have, indeed, perhaps, possibly, probably, seen something.
Otherwise, he pointed towards a spot with a trembling finger, breathing heavily. Then, his eyes rolled upwards and he fainted.
In other words... Murat did not know the thing that Oscar saw. He knew that the head of the Andrews, the Marshal, passed out without reason. Just like a person with heart disease, he clutched his chest and with his mouth wide open, fainted!
This was a matter that took place in the dead of night. The wretched Percy was taking care of the assassin who struggled against drug addiction on the Swan Hill. He did not witness the things that happened to Oscar. So first of all, the first reaction of Murat and all the knights present was to draw their swords and issue a warning! They thought that their master had encountered an ambush. Moreover, he appeared to be on the verge of death. Hence, Murat and the Narcissus Knights were not in a hurry to ascertain Oscar's state but to look into everything that was worth being suspicious over. We should say that such a reaction was exceedingly proper, for guarding should be that way.
Next, the human shields, which completely shielded the prince with their bodies, finally realized that their master was not injured, but had instead lost consciousness. At that moment, no one dared to lift the alert. Thus, the dazed prince continued to lie on the ground pretending to be dead. After that... Murat and the knights put together their spears to make a stretcher. They carried the unconscious main character into the church and shouted loudly. They kept shouting their young master's name. Some that were weak-hearted cried on the spot and some who thought that they had let the assassin get away were about to end their own lives… In short, the scene that followed after was in great confusion!
"At last..." Oscar shot Paul a look that said "wait and see" and then only turned to face the doctor. "The surgeon can't find out what's wrong, the physician also thinks that I'm healthy, so... a few smart ass guys found you!"
Mr. Maslow Riodre rubbed the sweat from his forehead, beaming. It was indeed true that all fatties loved to sweat.
***************
"Your Royal Highness, does being referred to as a psychiatrist make you feel repulsed... or is it just that a little unbelievable?"
Oscar still wanted to shoot another gaze at Paul, but he knew that Snowstorm had already slipped out of the door.
"I can't talk about it, and I don't think it's that unbelievable. I just don't quite understand this matter before my eyes!" Oscar declared his feelings truthfully.
Maslow scrunched up the fat on his face. It could be seen that he was trying to put on a harmless look.
"To be honest, Your Imperial Highness, I'm very much surprised when I saw you. Furthermore, I find it a little unbelievable! Because… because you're O'Neil Andrew Morisette! You're the prince of the Empire, the husband of Her Majesty Empress, the leader of the Narcissus Knights, the Marshal of the Imperial Guards. If you were to have a serious mental health problem…"
"Ola, this conversation is over!" Oscar stood up impatiently. Just listen to what the self-righteous, wretched fatty before him was saying! A serious mental health problem? If it weren't for Paul using his own life to vouch for this pig, he believed that he would have long since swung his sword at him…
"Your Highness! Your Highness!" Maslow wiggled his whole body of fat in alarm. He was not concerned about the conversation therapy with O'Neil Andrew Morisette. What he feared was that dreaded command from the head officer of the Military Intelligence – if he could not strike up an hour-long conversation with His Highness the Prince, he would have to go to the Zorangash Wetlands for hard labor.
"Hold on! Are you afraid of a psychiatrist? This isn't a joke? You have never feared all the difficulties spread out before you!"
Oscar retracted his eagerness to stand up. He did not deny that the fatty's flattery was quite considerate.
"You see, no matter what, I'm also a doctor. You have to describe the situation at that time for me!" Maslow made a huge effort in coaxing the highly noble Imperial Highness Prince.
Oscar settled back into the sofa. It was not that he did not want to bring it up, but the whole matter was indeed exceedingly weird.
"I saw my son!"
"Your son?" Maslow was a little doubtful. "You don't have a son."
"But I saw him!" Oscar turned to face the outside and pointed. "Right in the cemetery! That night! He was wearing red, fox fur waistcoat lined with gold edges. When I greeted him, he kept shouting that he wanted to visit his mother… he went on and on!"
"Then?"
"Then I felt breathless and I couldn't say a word. There was a white spot in my eyes that gradually expanded. That little rascal's cries made it impossible for me to think. I wanted to call for Murat to stop him, but he gave me a punch and then I didn't know a thing!"
Maslow nodded slightly. "Very well, you and Her Majesty have a son, right here in the cemetery!"
Oscar scratched his head. "Yes! But I know it's not true!"
"No!" The psychiatrist denied the prince's reply resolutely. "This is not the case! You and the Queen really have a son, right here in this cemetery! So that's why you would hurry to the church early in the morning. To give him flowers. To tell him stories!"
Oscar pursed his lips. He wondered whether the psychiatrist had lost it.
"You didn't see the child's appearance right?"
Oscar nodded.
"You only saw his clothes and heard his voice right?"
Oscar nodded again.
Maslow spread his hand and said, "Please recall carefully. Other than the night on which you fainted, have you ever seen that red fox fur waistcoat lined with gold edges anywhere else? Have you ever heard that voice shouting loudly, searching for mother?"
"Ola..." Having been reminded, Oscar suddenly gave a startled cry, but in the end, he still shook his head. "I... I don't know...I can't recall!"
The psychiatrist secretly celebrated his luck. If the Prince thought of anything, it could instead make the following conversation impossible to carry out.
"Then let us look at this issue in another way!" Maslow clasped his hands together. He stared into Oscar's eyes. He believed that very few men as young as the prince could have such accomplishments. "Let us say that... the matter itself of your seeing a little boy dressed in a red fox fur waistcoat lined with gold edges, calling out for his mother incessantly, creates a signal that causes your whole body to become incapacitated, or perhaps… this signal creates an unbearable stress on your body and mind, resulting in your body instinctively losing its functions!"
"Stress? Signal?" Oscar sized up the massive fatty, unconvinced. He felt that the psychiatrist was not much different from a magician with a magic wand.
"Yes!" Maslow was not sure of the prince's impression of him. He was still dancing and gesturing with joy. "The stress is the signal! In the face of stress, humans will make a signal type of response! And what is a signal-type response? Let me give an example!"
Oscar watched wretched portly man draw a small boy with a waistcoat on the cardboard he brought.
"The red waistcoat, the voice calling for mother! These are signal responses! However, you have to be clear that you're actually not reacting to the waistcoat and the call for mother. Instead, you responded to another matter. This reaction of yours was presented in your consciousness towards the boy in the waistcoat calling for mother!"
Oscar covered his mouth. He originally respected these professionals just as he respected Thirteen, but he was already really impatient.
His Highness the Prince flung the cardboard to one side and sized up the wretched fatty, with an intense glance as though he was an idiot. "Ola... Mr. Maslow! What I want to know right now is why are we freaking blathering on about a waistcoat, a voice and a faceless boy for?"
Oscar leaned in close towards the psychiatrist's face, "My time is very limited. I believe it is also that way for you! If you blurt any more nonsense on this matter, then I will have to ask you to leave, leave through that window. Do you understand?"
Maslow again broke into a sweat. He flicked his eyes towards the only window in the room. Outside the window was the steeple of the church's annex building. This meant that this window was not at an ordinary height.
"Then... then let us change the topic!" The psychiatrist had to settle for the next best thing.
Oscar leaned back against the sofa. He felt that he must be mad. Otherwise, who else would cast aside a huge stack of documents that urgently had to be dealt with to accompany a fat pig of a psychiatrist on a conversation here?
"How's your appetite recently?" Maslow expressed a relaxed, professional smile.
Oscar scoffed. "I've heard of this profession of you guys. Is it officially starting?"
The psychiatrist shook his head. "My questions will not take up too much of your time. Besides, this is just the first time. If will do whether you consider this as a friendly chat, or consider this as a kind of start."
Oscar heaved a sigh. "Okay... my appetite is horrible! It's been that way since I returned from Deiss. If there's an opportunity in future, I will definitely skin and dismember the body of the guy who removed quite a few segments of my intestines! He has made my gastrointestinal tract become an interchange station. However the food enters, that is how it leaves!"
Maslow shrugged. "I'm sorry to hear that. You have lost the pleasure that good food brings!"
Oscar gritted his teeth and moaned, "Who said not?"
The psychiatrist quickly wrote several notes on his notebook, and then he lifted his fat double chin. "Your Highness, do you feel… safe?"
"From what aspect?" Oscar was slightly puzzled.
Maslow shrugged. "For example... your job, your family, your marriage, your personal safety. Have you ever worried about not being able to return in the evening after leaving in the morning?"
Oscar gave another snort of laughter. "Sir, please take a look at me! Look carefully! Let us not talk about anything else. How much sense of security do you think a person, who is covered with arrow sores and sword scars… and also had a section of his intestines removed, have? I can say without any exaggeration that if there aren't ten thousand people in this world who constantly wants me dead, then there is at least a thousand! From Dulin stretching on to the east, they can form lines up to Andrew Haila. Towards the north, they can form lines up to Borensberg. Towards the south…"
"Your Highness, I understand!" Maslow broke off the prince's lament. He just knew that the answer would be like this. The story of this Empress' husband had long been widely circulated. The people believed that his feats were built on a medal in a pool of blood and it is indeed so.
"So... I have one thing that I don't understand from the start!" the big fatty eyed the little fatty who obviously regarded him with disdain. "You probably know, I was… you can consider it as being abducted by your subordinates! It was your subordinates who kidnapped me here. I was very surprised to see you because I didn't believe that a prominent figure like you would have a psychological problem!"
"I don't have any psychological problems!" Oscar practically snarled.
"Good, good! You don't have any psychological problems!" Maslow agreed hurriedly. "Can you tell me? You are the Empress' husband, the prince of the Empire, the leader of the God-chosen warriors, the Marshal of the Imperial Guards! You wield power simply beyond the imagination of outsiders! Aside from these, what else do you want? What is your life goal? Aren't you and your subordinates about to go out? Where is your destination? Don't tell me that it's Vielonna, because that's not the endpoint. I want to know where you're going to end?"
Oscar was struck dazed by the string of questions! Life goal, destination, endpoint, and where will he consider it the end?
Maslow assessed at the young prince whose gaze was flitting around. He was unsure of his own speculation, because if things were really as he guessed, then O'Neil Andrew Morisette's problem would be serious.
"Ola..." Oscar finally decided to say something, but when he opened his mouth, he only emitted such a groan, "I'm only… doing the right things! At least what I think is right!"
The psychiatrist shook his head gently. "A person tends to look at problems with prejudice! Even the gods are incapable of strictly setting what is right and wrong. How do you know whether your judgment is correct? If there is no goal or one that is worth your while, a mission to fight for, then how much meaning will there on whether you're doing the right or wrong thing?"
Oscar averted his head away. He stared out of the window, seemingly considering whether or not to throw the heavy object that appeared to weigh two hundred kilograms out. This was because he couldn't answer the other person's question. Furthermore, he was incapable of facing his conducts and deeds. This was not the first time. It was not the first time he questioned his own wisdom. It was also not his first time to question all his efforts in surviving. However, this was the first time that someone brought up this issue to him and gave him resolutions to such a problem. That wretched fatty seemed to be saying, "O'Neil Andrew Morisette, all the food that you have eaten since young has gone to waste!"
"Forget about it, Your Highness! You're still young..." The psychiatrist seemed to have given up on another course of treatment. That demeanor was like consoling someone who was about to set foot into a coffin.
"Tell me about your family, if you're willing to!"
Oscar's gaze was still wandering outside the window. Just that this time he had learned from experience. "My family? Don't tell me you don't know just how the Andrew Family and Imperial Household of Morisette are like?"
"No Your Highness!" Maslow shook his head. "If you understand the family as the Andrews and the Imperial Household, then I think you may have gotten it wrong! In my opinion, "Your family is you and your wife. How is your relationship with Her Majesty? Do you feel that… Her Majesty loves you like an ordinary woman?"
Oscar simply stood up from the couch. He walked to the window and sunlight spilled onto his face.
His image was reflected in the glass window. The young man scrutinized his appearance. He wanted to lie, but he felt that if he were to conceal anything regarding this matter, he would be akin to a pitiful creature.
"Alanis... loves me!"
"Are you sure?"
The Prince of the Empire whipped around. His anger surged with an unusual ferocity and almost berserk.
"What do you mean? What do you take me for? A delusional idiot? A silly kid who doesn't know what love is? Are you calling for me to question my wife? You are..."
"What is love? How do you understand the love that your wife gives you?" The psychiatrist ignored the other's intimidation.
Oscar sniffed. How did he understand the love that Alanis gave him? Why must it be Alanis? He had Sasha, he had Arayna, he had Vijdeline, he had Antonia, he also had an adopted daughter... all these, he could probably speak for. However, why did it necessarily have to be Alanis? He couldn't explain the things that Alanis gave him. If it was understood as simply loving one another, then why did they arrive at this field today? What was with this current situation? Did Alanis change? Or had his feelings for her simply never been accepted?
"Your Highness, let's not go in circles! Vent out your anger even more fiercely. The psychiatrist shook his massive body. He seemed to have prepared for the worst. "Do you have any feelings of being loved? I restrict this feeling to only Her Majesty Empress. Come on and answer me! Is there?"
Oscar slumped back into the sofa again. He was exhausted. He had slept for only four hours in two days.
"Yes... there definitely should be..." His Royal Highness Prince practically groaned.
"But you're not sure!" said Maslow Riodre said while jotting down a few conclusions.
"No! On the contrary, I'm quite sure!" Oscar widened his eyes with all his relentlessly.
The psychiatrist did not deny His Highness directly. He just shook his head continuously to show his uncertainty about the answer.
"Last question!" Maslow slowly rose from his seat. Although this conversation had not lasted for an hour, this psychological specialist felt that it was enough.
"Do you have any friends? This friend shouldn't be your subordinate, neither should them be your wife or mistress. More so, they should not be the person who remains favorable to you for a living! This friend is just your friend and has no relations to interests, no difference in terms of level and status."
Oscar was tongue-tied. He did not want to appear too pathetic. He was trying his best to search for such a person. However, considering he did not know that many people, and on top of that, with the doctor's restrictions...
"You don't have any! I just knew it was like this..." Maslow had already opened the door, "I apologize... for bothering you!"
Oscar gazed at the huge closed door and lit a cigar. He set himself to be engulfed by the smoke.
No one knew why the fierce and menacing looking Imperial Guards imposed emergency measures on the Dulin Scott Cathedral. The clergymen, pastors, and bishops were ordered to stay in their respective rooms. Even when it was time to replace the candles for the altar lamp, no one bothered to do so. The few chaps who were prying around outside the church doors also suffered a few good beatings without exception. Usually, only the street patrol would treat the citizens that way. It seemed that the knights guarding this place had definitely received the order to take action.
His Imperial Highness the Prince O'Neil Andrew Morisette's followers, subordinates, and... in short, everyone, had gathered in the mass hall of the church, and the image of God was on the spiritual platform. These people who, for a variety of reasons, cared dearly for His Highness the Prince, passed their time in prayer, until Messier, whose face was etched with anxiety, strode out through the corner gate of the inner hall together with the psychiatrist who had an unlucky aura about him.
The men abandoned the gods and went forward to welcome them. "How is His Highness?" This was everyone's question.
"He's fine!" Dr. Maslow nodded with certainty. "However, in some aspects, he is already no different from a dead...
"You're asking to die!" Devil Sandy was the first to grab the huge fatty by the collar. However, he realized that General Murat, who had yet to utter a word, was truly the first. He had only caught hold of the hand of the Commander of the Cavalry. Thus, he just made a gesture toward Murat that indicated "after you".
Messier made a great effort to pry Murat's his fingers away from the psychiatrist's neck. "Everyone, don't be so on edge! Mr. Maslow is my friend and an expert in diagnosing and treating mental health problems. We should always listen to his analysis!"
Maslow rubbed his neck and straightened his attire. In fact, he really had nothing to say. O'Neil Andrew Morisette was beyond cure.
"Actually... I only inquired about five extremely simple questions! These five questions are necessary for a person's existence in the world! Everybody, guess how our Highness Prince answered!"
"What kind of five questions?" Paul was the first to ask about it. He had long felt that his little friend had traits of profound psychological abnormalities.
"The first question was how was His Highness the Prince's appetite!" Maslow said while calling for everyone to take a seat. He realized it was more comfortable facing a room full of sinister-looking military personnel than facing O'Neil Andrew Morisette.
"I believe this issue is best to be understood! This concerns a person's most fundamental issue related to a person's survival index. What is it when a person's basic needs bear the brunt of it? Naturally, it is to safeguard the life force! If a person does not want to think about his needs, it would be odd if his physical and mental health holds out!"
Paul nodded subconsciously. "Yesterday, he drank nine cups of black coffee and ate only a cat-poop sized cheese."
"This is what it is!" Maslow rolled his eyes. "Working away day and night, plus the extreme irregularities in diet and rest." I believe that anyone will experience symptoms such as dizziness, difficulty in breathing, and intermittent flashes of light in the eyes. If it is serious, it will be followed by hallucinations and lastly, a deep coma."
"He has all!" Murat muttered reluctantly.
"Furthermore!" the psychiatrist still had more to add. "I haven't looked deeper into the basis of His Highness the Prince's hallucinations. That must be a strong psychological hint. My initial surmise was the stress of surviving..."
"Tell us about the second question! You won't know what kind matters His Highness the Prince bears the burden of!" Murat did not intend to touch on Oscar's hallucinations or his hidden disease.
"Then the second question!" Professor Maslow from Dulin University extended two fingers simultaneously. "In a simulation of a human psychological evolution process, when these basic living conditions are satisfied, what will everyone consider next?"
Everyone at the scene had on clueless expressions.
"My gentlemen, it is another necessity for human survival — psychological security!" the huge fatty finally displayed self-confidence that only an advanced professor would have. "The concept of security is too broad. Diet security, travel safety, family safety, social security, public security... as long as you're human, you will have security concerns about things, matters, everything! However, for most of us, His Highness the Prince's situation is a special case and truly exceptional! He grew up living in an extremely unsafe environment, which led him to have an even more profound concern towards danger compared to that of a child who grew up playing with spoons and dolls! I'm guessing that when he encounters danger, his reaction will be inevitably extreme. His misgivings and suspicious heart when pondering about security issues are also…"
"Seriously, forget about it…" Devil Sandy again cried. "His Highness the Prince is a soldier, a leader of the God-chosen Warriors. If he were like a civil servant..."
"This is just an excuse!" Maslow firmly lashed back in a low voice. "Don't use his status to hide his fragile psychological security! In some people and certain matters, excessively keyed-up psychological security will lead to deterioration of the entire matter! You all can take this as the so-called paranoia!"
"Perhaps the Head of the Military Intelligence Bureau, this official post in the Secret Service Domain, or perhaps his identity and status pushed him to develop a psychological security that is more solid than the average person. However, this defensive line should have at times been loosened. This is the normal way of thinking and having it is the correct method of regarding this security issue. As for His Highness the Prince, he didn't care at all about other things when he answered questions about security. His mind was filled with ways to preserve his life! But, in reality? The problem isn't as serious as he imagined. He is driven by inertia thinking to carry out a defense. Of course, his attack is also the result of this manner of thinking!"
The people did not speak. Although O'Neil Andrew Morisette had never reflected any severe paranoia, he did perform hysterically when resisting and attacking. It is believed that a certain number of people still remember that he had let Monia Amerson fire a shot near his heart. Thinking about it... she was probably the only person under the heavens who had ever done such a thing.
"Tell us about the third question!" Murat was a little impatient. He already realized that the subject of discussion was an extremely dangerous and eccentric person, and the most unacceptable thing was that he had to follow such a guy to the ends of the earth.
"Huuu..." the psychiatrist heaved a sigh. "Everyone knows this is a step-by-step problem. It is the most fundamental basis to test a person's psychological health...
"Don't blab about all this nonsense! Third question!" Paul interrupted the huge fatty, flustered and exasperated. Without having arrived at the end, he wouldn't admit that his young little friend had suffered from severe mental illness. However, quite the contrary, he knew that the little lady was indeed not really healthy. This kind of awareness was really made one so depressed that they want to slam themselves against the wall
"Okay, okay, as everybody wishes!" Professor Maslow spread his hand reluctantly. "The third question is derived from the first and second problems, or you can say that... it is a psychological problem that complements each other! If the first two problems don't achieve acceptable results, then the third problem is to seek a solution to the problem. Let's say... we don't have enough to eat, don't have clothes that keep us warm, splashed by water when we leave home, bullied by the dogs when we walk along, then we will know that this kind of living condition should be changed. Go earn money to raise and feed a family, do physical exercise, and pray for God to bless you. We will always have a goal to strive for. Nevertheless, we must always have a goal to strive on for."
Maslow swept his gaze over the crowd on the scene, "Of course, people who spend their lives doing nothing and live out mediocre lives are everywhere! However, everyone has at least one dream, has at least imagined what the kind of life he wants looks like! However, as for Highness Prince O'Neil Andrew Morisette, after having hesitated over and over again, told me that he just wanted to do what he believed to be the right! In other words, he had absolutely no clue as to what he wanted!"
"Is this a very serious psychological problem?" Paul was a little astonished. He was an unambitious kind of guy. He did not think that there was much difference between running a kind of pig breeding farm and doing nothing.
"Of course this is a serious psychological problem!" Maslow stared at the King of Assassins, expressing a look of disbelief. "Could it be that this is considered the living attitude of a normal person? Don't try to use His Highness the Prince's impressive prestige and unrivaled feats to brush me aside. I've already seen through him. His demands regarding his life, this world, the people he's closest with, everything, is practically zero! And demands of a step further will bring us back to the second question, which is, anything that threatens him will be destroyed! Anything that he believes to be necessary or to be correct, he will set his heart on it and invest in it, without questioning why he should do it."
The psychiatrist wiped the beads of sweat on his forehead. He was about to enter the most dangerous topic.
"It now appears that... most of Prince O'Neil Andrew Morisette's actions, driven by a security inertia, are correct responses. However, if one day, under the circumstance where he has no clear goals and purpose, he made a mistake, then the unfortunate will not only be him but that includes all of you here, even the country! Because even he himself doesn't know where this matter will take him. Don't tell me that such a situation is still not considered dangerous?"
"You... you make me think that His Highness is... a beast or some other thing that has no spirit and no brains! But I know that he's not like this!" Messier spat out the sentence with difficulty.
"Yeah! So where did the problem arise from?" Dr. Maslow beamed while assessing the Head of the Military Intelligence.
"Look at answers His Highness gave for the last two questions!"
The psychiatrist took out his notes. Until now, he still can't believe that O'Neil Andrew Morisette could accomplish today's reputation and status in this state of mind. Perhaps the God of Light was really taking painstaking care of His chosen warriors.
"The fourth question is the giving of love. The fifth question is based on the survival information collected in social interaction!" The psychiatrist pointed to his notes, "the fourth question is very easy to understand. The God of Light praises love. The gentlemen present here are all experienced, especially the General of the Artillery Soldiers. I have heard of your distinguished name."
Torry gave a laugh. He knew that his reputation was not very pleasant.
"Love is given to both sides. To return to the basics, love or not to love is to believe or not to believe! Your Highness Prince does not believe, does not firmly believe and does not dare to believe. He is in a state where he lacks self-confidence due to security reasons!"
"Young Lady..."
Dr. Maslow waved his hand, preventing General Murat from voicing his thoughts. "I'm talking about him and Her Majesty! A woman whom he professed to love and to be loved by."
"This does not seem to be a one-sided problem of His Highness the Prince!" Baron Messier finally expressed a smile, "His Imperial Highness the Prince and Her Majesty Empress..."
"That's enough! Is there anything else that is one-sided between husband and wife?" Maslow shot a look at the Head of the Military Intelligence dismissively. "I indeed do not know what happened between His Highness the Prince and Her Majesty, and I do not wish to involve politics or any other triggering factors in it. If it is merely from the perspective of psychology, the giving of love should be something that is given generously to confess each other's love instead of repeatedly calculating gains and losses and comparing each other's sincerity. If they do this, love would not be love, but only something that numbs each other's conscience to cover up the actual truth!"
"Numbs each other's conscience? Cover up the actual truth?"
The people present exchanged meaningful glances with one another. They all felt that it was time to inquire about the fifth question because Her Majesty and His Highness the Prince had already numbed each other's conscience and made extreme efforts to cover up the truth.
"Based on the survival information gathered from social interaction!" Maslow still fancied the term he made up on his own more. "It refers to social information, collection and use. Information collection includes not only learning but also normal communication. His Highness Prince O'Neil Andrew Morisette's academic performance is highly praised by Marshal Robin, but when it comes to normal social interaction... it seems that aside from you few close officers and followers, he has not had any mutual influential contacts with anyone else. He does not have any relationships with less violent friends, nor is he a respected guest in any Shalon or a certain club. Perhaps his Highness does not care about these, but more so it was is the simple psychological fate he abided by. The consequences of this lack of communication naturally cause the deviation towards the use of survival information..."
"Get to the point!" Paul was already about to break down.
The psychologist spread his hands and shrugged. "He doesn't know how to get along with people and he doesn't know how to use the information he gets from people. This kind of information can provide him with the confidence in dealing with people and catalyze his love towards others. Once he gives out his love explicitly, he will naturally know what he wants. Once he has something he wants, he will have to work hard for it. Striving for one's ideal goal is a progressive, step-by-step process as well as a learning process. During this process, he will discover what he lacks and he can also unearth happiness, sadness, honor, faith, and so on and so forth! Then, in order to sustain this process, he needs to draw life force to maintain his body and energy!"
The Dulin Scott Cathedral fell into a momentary silence. Perhaps Dr. Maslow doubted whether the people present understood O'Neil Andrew Morisette's mental state, so he made a conclusive summary towards the end.
"His Highness's answers to the five questions are a complete loss. This can only indicate that his psychological deficiency is practically incurable. This is because his mental development was thrown into an environment that subverts the norm too early on..."
A loud noise interrupted the psychiatrist's exposition and O'Neil Andrew Morisette tumbled out from the little corner door, once again falling into a deep coma.
