They compared the two types of artwork and found that the hairstyle and facial shape on both were basically identical, it's just that the style of painting was different. Strange continued to look on, and found the paintings further in to be increasingly eerie.
The originally vague facial features began to gradually clear up, sometimes revealing the content, sometimes appearing cruel and bloodthirsty, but many times carrying a bizarre gentleness or a slightly enticing desire.
"He may indeed have some mental issues." Strange analyzed the artwork up and down, saying, "This might be the illusion he saw when his mental illness was acting up. Otherwise, it's hard to explain why the style of the artwork changes so suddenly, and still reveals so many facial details."
"Artists are all mad."
"The problem is, he's not an artist. He's a psychiatrist."
Stark was at a loss for words. He stared at those bizarre paintings, feeling a chill in his heart. So, he stacked them up and put them all back in the box, stood up, and walked back into the bedroom.
In the bedroom, there was a desk. Stark walked over to the desk and casually flipped through a few books on the shelf, his gaze landing on the title of one of them — "How We Go Towards Death".
Stark's fingers moved over the spine of the book. Strange came up behind him, staring at the titles of the books, saying, "Even though death education is an indispensable part of life, doesn't this book mention death too many times?"
"'Maybe he wanted to commit suicide a long time ago." Stark seemed a bit silent, his tone hinting at sadness: "No matter what, a suicide committer tortured by mental illness is worth our sympathy."
"Is it really a mental illness?" Strange looked like he was starting to put the pieces together, he walked back to the living room swiftly, standing in the center of the room with his eyes shut, magical power began to spread out from him.
"What are you doing?" Stark asked.
Strange didn't respond. After a few minutes of silence, he slowly opened his eyes and looked at Stark with a serious expression: "There's a residual aura of death here."
"Well, after all, he's dead..."
"No, not that death - the 'real' Death." Strange turned around and took a thorough look at the room, then said, "The aura is extremely faint; it must have been here for quite a while."
"The goddess?" Stark asked with a hint of surprise.
"Don't tell me you don't know, Death entangles with specific entities, gives them illusions like a lover in their dreams, and then makes them provide more deaths for her. Thanos is an example of this."
Strange knelt back down on the ground, taking the drawings out from the box, and said, "According to Loki's description of his past experiences, Thanos once mentioned that he had seen a beautiful woman guiding him to a desolate yet deep nation on several nights. She told him that it would be their love nest, as long as he would keep her company."
"Death seducing Schiller??" Stark spoke in disbelief, but quickly seemed to react, "Wait, I always felt something wasn't right, about Schiller's intense interest in death."
"Why does he always have to negotiate with Death, no matter big or small? There are a million easier ways than this..."
Strange observed the surroundings again, speculating: "The original Schiller might have committed suicide to keep his date with Death under the influence of Death. Which means, the first person that later Dr.Schiller knew, was not me, but Death."
"This could also explain why he always has such a great interest in death, even to the point of using parts of his own soul to keep her company... Oh God, they didn't happen to be dating, did they?!"
Strange squinted his eyes slowly, in fact, anyone who had encountered Schiller's major plans could notice his different kind of interest in Death, completely beyond the scope of interest for studying a god.
Here, the two of them fell into a cognitive trap. The first impression that Schiller couldn't draw led them to believe the drawings found in Schiller's old house could only have been left by the previous Schiller. Combined with bottles of wine and medication, it inevitably led to the assumption that this was the work of a destitute and mad artist.
Thinking back on some past minor details that had aroused suspicion, it was easy to lead one to think, "See, I told you something was off."
Humans are quite good at fitting their existing situations into various descriptions that are not actually accurate. It's like when you self-diagnose a disease on WebMD and conclude you have cancer. It's also like when you take a personality test and feel that those adjectives fit you perfectly.
"We have to go find Loki." Strange said after some thought: "She's the only one who has had more interactions with Thanos. We should ask if the person painted in these pictures is indeed Death."
At this moment, Loki was still browsing through the photo album in Schiller's bedroom. Suddenly, she heard the faint sound of thunder coming from beside her. Loki, as if used to it, sighed in resignation, closed the album in her hand, and looked towards the balcony. Sure enough, Thor was standing there.
"Why are you still here?" Thor poked his head through the balcony window and said, "Frigga is looking everywhere for you. You're the protagonist in her ancient matchmaking plan."
With that topic brought up, Loki felt even more helpless. Meanwhile, Thor waved his hand towards the outside, saying, "What's that saying... Mother knows best. You know that running away is pointless, right?"
Only after saying this did he realize where he was, so Thor took two steps back, looked outside the building, and when he saw the familiar front door, he said with a bit of surprise, "Isn't this Dr. Schiller's clinic? Where is he? What are you doing here again?"
"I came to have a look."
Thor's reaction to this was quicker than anyone else's. Alarm bells went off in his head instantaneously, and he completely disregarded his image as a god, climbed in through the balcony window as quickly as he could.
Having glanced at the neatly stacked bedding first, Thor breathed a sigh of relief. As he took in the relatively tidy surroundings, before he could let out another breath of relief, Thor's gaze landed on Loki's face.
"What are you doing here, really?"
"I came for a visit, with permission".
Thor took two steps forward, his burly body squeezing Loki until she almost had no place to stand. His gaze passed over Loki's shoulder and stopped on the sketchbook on the table.
Thor glanced at Loki and tried to reach for the sketchbook. Just then, another hand landed on the end of the book. Loki turned her head to look at Thor through a gap in her hair, saying, "This is Dr. Schiller's personal belongings. It cannot be tampered with randomly."
"Then why did you touch it?"
"I was given permission."
Thor's gaze became increasingly suspicious, he stared into Loki's eyes and said, "Let me see. Let go."
"No…"
"Let go!"