"Isn't the lack of firmness in my decisions my weakness?" Constantine asked.
"Bruce Wayne should believe." When Constantine heard Shiller's reply, it sounded like he was saying, "Think again."
"Do you think it's a mistake?"
"Perhaps."
Constantine could not hold it back any longer. He took a big gulp of alcohol and said, "I've already paid the price, you can't always let me ask you. Shouldn't you be the one asking me questions, then giving precise responses?"
"That's how the other Shillers operate."
"So, how would you act?"
"You ask, I answer."
Constantine felt extremely vexed. He placed both hands on the table and leaned forward. Even though this didn't help him see Shiller, who was at the other end of the long table, any clearer, it was necessary, to show his urgency.
"You can't give me half-hearted remarks. Without proper grounds, how could you guarantee your analysis would be correct?"
"If you want a foundation, go find Bruce."
Constantine was truly exasperated.
"Isn't baseless guessing just pure speculation?"
"That's what I am."
Stunned, Constantine saw Shiller slowly sit upright from his chair. He had hoped this was a sign of Shiller preparing to seriously analyze the situation, but instead, Shiller only reached for the bottle to pour himself more alcohol, then sat back and narrowed his eyes.
This left Constantine to wonder if it was the right time to ask Shiller, who looked like a large carnivorous beast digesting its food. Mages digested reindeer meat, Shiller digested mages, what a wonderful food chain.
Driving these impractical thoughts out of his mind, Constantine had to voice out his inquiry more directly.
"Give me one reason why you're doing this. Convince me that you are not avoiding my questions. It doesn't have to be scientifically reasonable, just convincing enough."
"I'm afraid I'm not particularly skilled in that."
Once again, Constantine witnessed Shiller's ability to tell a bare-faced lie. Regardless, he still said, "Let's hear it."
Shiller adjusted his posture, upright a little. He seemed to be refreshingly willing to take on alcohol's strike on his brain. Despite his languorous and mysterious look under the slight effects of alcohol, if he got serious, Constantine would be a sitting duck.
"Do you understand the difference between Arrogant and me when it comes to psychology?"
He finally asked questions! He finally asked! In his heart, Constantine is cheering. He shook his head, and excitedly said, "I don't know, can you tell me?"
"I am more lacking in theoretical basis than him."
"What?"
Constantine couldn't imagine, because the few occasions he saw Arrogant judge someone's psychology, Arrogant performed as if he had received divine inspiration. This was not just Constantine's impression; all those present expressed the same sentiment as Constantine.
Constantine couldn't imagine how one could lack theoretical basis further.
"So, don't hope that I would explain any of my judgments. You ask, I answer. Absolutely accurate, with nothing to hide."
"Narcissist," was the only tag Constantine could apply to his state now, like a gambler saying "I always win whenever I gamble."
"Then let's give it a try," said Constantine challengingly, "What is the correct criterion for judgment?"
"If you feel it's wrong, then it's wrong."
"No refunds?"
"Full compensation."
This made Constantine look like the gambler, testing his ability to hold back from pointing out Shiller's mistakes and thereby earning compensation.
He could always point them out, because now Shiller was analyzing him. And even if Shiller wasn't, whose speech didn't have flaws to pick?
"You must ensure not to be too brief or dismissive, and no beating around the bush," Constantine habitually blocked all roads, "Generic terms such as 'pretty good' or 'not bad' should not appear, and you should not repeat established facts."
"I assure you it will be original, and adequately substantial until you are satisfied."
Constantine was genuinely shocked.
"Are you sure you're not drunk?" He even began to doubt this fact and carefully observed his glass of alcohol. His many years of experience as a drinker told him that even a child wouldn't get drunk with this amount.
"How many questions can I ask?" Constantine nervously asked.
"No limit."
This must be a manipulation move to gain his trust, Constantine thought. As in astrology, no matter what you predict, you will always apply it to yourself. But it's simply because those prophecies are general statements that flatter the listener with compliments. It's definitely like this.
But Constantine still decided to give it a try.
"Then, let's start from that question," Constantine gulped, thinking before saying, "If the lack of firmness in my decisions is not my spiritual weakness, then what is my weakness?"
"Before that, let me ask how your empathetic ability is."
"I think it's pretty good, what about you?"
"My answer may be very abstract."
"What is my weakness?"
"A sunset after rain must be beautiful, but the rain never stops."
For twenty long minutes, Constantine remained silent over this.
A bolt of lightning strike cut through the first half of a detestable person's life, and from then on, those memories of the majority that Constantine himself could hardly recall, those hazy and fragmented feelings of his own, finally had an impeccably fitting description.