""What is it?" Shiller asked.
"Perhaps, as you said, it is their hatred for them, a desire born from revenge." The pig's nose of the pig head mask wiggled gently, giving this creature, which looked quite simple, a hint of brutality.
"I yearn to slaughter them like pigs, to kill them, drain their blood, and play with their limbs. Now that I have succeeded in doing this, isn't this a demonstration of me becoming a successful butcher?"
"Factually, you are a butcher, but indeed require treatment." As soon as Shiller spoke, Valentine's eyes widened slightly. Clearly, Shiller's words were beyond his expectations.
"Do you think, I will start arguing with you about your mistakes, devalue your actions, and then tell you what the right answer is?" Shiller revealed a smile and said: "Success never has a fixed standard, even for a serial killer."
"Perhaps, you may not have noticed. When you're describing your life journey, you push the majority of the responsibility onto others. You're emphasizing who turned you into what you are."
Shiller picked up the glass of water on the table and took a sip, this signaled that he had a lot to say. So, everyone in the room listened attentively, everyone was curious about what Shiller was going to say.
"During psychological treatment, I always come across such patients. They are very good at lying. In their narration of a certain matter, they mix in too many subjective judgments, beautifying themselves into flawless saints, while pushing all responsibility onto others or the society."
"Their families who accompanied them for treatment would say that they have a habitual habit of lying. They deceive relatives, friends, and teachers. They not only adopt deceptive measures on important issues, but even in daily small matters, they casually make up lies, and they never change."
"When they are facing me, as always, they take certain events in their lives, which may have happened partly or happened differently, and reinterpret and recreate them according to their understanding. To put it plainly, they are making up stories."
"When I expose their lies, and ask them what the purpose of doing so is, almost no one can answer. It's their habit, sometimes it's even without ill intention."
"In fact, this is not a disadvantage; it proves that these people have very rich imagination."
"Everyone beautifies themselves when making a subjective expression, and the stories made up by the best among these people can even be said to be flawless. The process of beautifying themselves is very smooth, without any flaws, this is actually a talent."
"Do you think I've beautified myself?" Valentine asked.
Shiller nodded, but then opened his mouth and said: "But the direction in which you're beautifying yourself is somewhat problematic. You, just like an ordinary person, are pushing the responsibility onto others, do you know what this means?"
Upon hearing the word "ordinary person", a hint of anger appeared in Valentine's eyes. He seemed to feel that Shiller was belittling him, but Shiller's calm tone prevented him from losing his temper. Shiller continued to say:
"This means that you haven't really accepted yourself, you actually detest yourself and you don't love yourself enough."
Shiller put down the glass and looked at Valentine, "You still feel ashamed, you still have a sense of morality."
"You think what you have done is wrong, so when you talk about who made you do these things, the way you beautify yourself is to shift the responsibility to others, instead of admitting your own indifference, abnormality, and cruelty."
"You think that as long as you deceive yourself, deceive others, and blame society for your wrongdoings, you're innocent."
Shiller shook his head, looking into Valentine's eyes: "As long as you think about clearing your name, it proves that you also think you're guilty."
"Every person who is good at shifting responsibilities essentially does not accept themselves, cannot accept their own mistakes, sins, so they weave a fantasy world where all wrongs belong to others, and only they are flawless."
"And you hate and complain about high-ranking officials, you think that you have turned into this because of them, actually means that you know that murder is wrong, you know you have committed a mistake, you know you're guilty, you want to blame the sin on them, so you can appear innocent."
"And your criterion for innocence still comes from societal morality. The morality and laws of human society tell you that murder is wrong, dismembering others is cruel, and this concept still remains in your consciousness."
"Because of recognition, hence the sense of shame, hence the shifting of responsibilities, hence the birth of hatred. This is why you hate them; this is the source of your inner hatred."
Shiller gently picked up a pen from the table, stroked the cap with his hand, lowered his head and said: "You cannot truly regard them as pigs, because you know you cannot shift the responsibility onto a group of pigs."
"If you truly disregard them, if you regard them as livestock, you cannot fantasize about them having a great influence on you, and then blame the responsibility for making yourself cruel on them, thus making them bear the shame and self-reproach for violating society's morality."
"It's not that you don't want to do it, but you can't do it. And the reason you can't do it is because you believe that you're not born cold-hearted and cruel."
"Or, in your subconscious, you still see yourself as a... ordinary person who needs to comply with societal moral standards."
When Shiller's voice fell, the room was quieter than when it was empty. The extra silence was the manifestation of the thoughts filled in everyone's minds spilling out into reality.
This is why applause and cheering are not the best encouragement for a speaker. Silence is the highest respect from the audience.
Bruce sighed inwardly, regardless of who the professor was, their splendid performance during their work always sparked an endless fascination for psychology in people.
Bruce had to admit, it was the remarkable professional expertise and personal charisma of the professor that allowed him to endure the mutual torment with Shiller for four years.
Bruce also had to confess that he had continuously lowered his moral expectations for Shiller, tolerating actions that completely contradicted his own beliefs, as well as moral and legal principles. The reasons were not complicated, he simply admired Shiller.
Valentine was looking at Shiller in silence, but he didn't respond angrily. Instead, with a focused gaze on Shiller's face, he spoke, "I sincerely apologize for the words I said in the car, professor. You are a person who deserves my respect."
"It's just that I have never respected anyone before, so I don't know how to express. I hope you can forgive my indiscretion."
Shiller slightly lowered his head, shaking it lightly. He stood up from his chair, looked into Valentine's eyes and said, "I believe I have explained it clearly. You should think about the doubts you brought in today."
Shock and confusion appeared in Valentine's eyes, he looked at Shiller and asked, "I'm sorry, what did you say? But... it's only been half an hour, didn't it just start?"
Shiller put one hand in the pocket of his suit and looked down at Valentine's eyes, "I am more than happy to lend a helping hand to a lost child, out of my sympathy."
"But I am a psychologist. This is my profession. If you wish to get more professional answers, you need to pay, as it also shows your respect for my professional capability."
Valentine, seated on the sofa, appeared somewhat flustered. He looked at Shiller and said, "Of course, I will pay. I know that therapy sessions cost money, but I came here in a bit of a rush today."
Shiller, however, gently shook his head again. He bent down slightly closer to Valentine and said, "What I want is not money."
He quickly straightened up, lowering his gaze to look at Valentine and said, "The stuff you sent to my garden was missing many parts. Do you not like those parts?"
Valentine was stunned for a moment. He seemed to remember something and asked, "Are you referring to the organs? But they are too fragile to make dolls... do you like organs? I can find them for you. Male or female ones?"
Standing behind the sofa, Harley covered her mouth, eyes widened. Being smart, she immediately understood what Valentine was referring to.
Yet, Shiller shook his head slowly and said, "I'm sorry, but I don't like pork."
Then, his gaze fell on Valentine's face again, and he asked, "Do you drink... heavily?"
Seeing Shiller's gaze, Valentine seemed to understand something. His fingertips started to tremble, apparently out of fear, but also excitement. He shook his head and said, "No, I hardly ever drink."
Shiller seemed a bit disappointed. He took a serious look at Valentine and said,
"Your understanding of food is truly terrible. Human organs are the best suited for cooking among all animals. The delicate stomach nurtured by chewed and ground food, the liver pickled in alcohol, the pancreas that has broken down a large amount of sugar...
Looking into his eyes, Valentine slowly glanced down at his own body. His gaze then returned to Shiller, a fanatical flame gradually ignited in his eyes, expressing desperate cravings and sorrowful pleas.
He stood up and moved closer to Shiller, "What do I have to give up to get the answer? My lung, or my heart?"
On his way to the desk, Shiller turned around, his expression no longer patient and gentle as it was during treatment, but cold and indifferent. His eyes had become barren.
He scrutinizingly looked Valentine up and down and then said, "Judging by your body shape, your visceral fat has exceeded the standard. This is not a good sign, Lazlo. Maintaining a healthy body is necessary."
Valentine stepped forward quickly, spreading out his hands as if trying to explain something. Shiller, however, moved forward rapidly and placed one hand on his shoulder.
Valentine turned to look at Shiller's hand but made no move.
Shiller shoved him to the ground. The sturdy Valentine knocked over the end table when he fell. The recorder made a couple of "buzzing" sounds after falling onto the ground and stopped working.
By the time Batman stepped out of the shadows, the boning knife in Shiller's hand had already plunged into Valentine's eye socket, gouging out his remaining, intact eyeball.
Slowly, Shiller returned to the desk and picked up an empty jar from the bookshelf.
When the bloody hand released its grip and the eyeball, still attached to the optic nerve, fell into the jar, Shiller's eyes were full of indescribable expectations, like a child who has just tossed a coin into a wishing well.
Valentine, lying on the ground, was convulsing in pain but didn't scream. In a shaky voice, he muttered, "Come to my right side… so I can hear… hear what you're saying clearly."
Batman, standing behind him, once again felt a wave of dizziness. He was stunned by the madness unfolding before him.