Throughout the journey, the three of them were filling Raven in on the pitfalls they might encounter in this line of work. Though they had never run a moving company themselves, they had plenty of social, and especially Gotham, experience.
What had decreased in Gotham now were mainly the major and violent crimes, but the small-time crooks, swindlers, and pickpockets were still around in about the same numbers. In this place, besides the law, there were street rules too, unfamiliar folks could easily get conned.
Raven was a bit down throughout the journey. Back in Azarath, she had never encountered such things; everyone there told the truth and was kind to her. Although she had heard about con artists before she left, she never imagined they could be so cunning.
The employee who had spoken to her earlier didn't show any signs of deceit, and now that Raven thought about it, what they said seemed reasonable. But this time she'd only lost a few dollars—what if next time it was a few hundred?
Raven sighed internally, feeling an urge to eliminate all the con artists in the world, yet knowing it would be difficult to turn this impulse into action. A myriad of emotions turned into frustration within her.
Seeing that the young girl was feeling down, the three boys tried to cheer her up by telling her amusing stories from school and about the thrilling experience of their last competitive match.
Soon, Raven's attention was diverted, and they arrived at their first work site, beginning a busy day.
Today was a rest day, so Shiller didn't have to go to class, and with Raven coincidentally out, he could take this free time to organize his house.
He turned directly into a mist, and the furniture was placed where it belonged. The TV and sofas were moved to the second floor's reception area, creating a living room, while the first floor was transformed into a psychological therapy room.
The villa had ample space. Although it wasn't as expansive as the mansion of old, it was already larger than any house Shiller had lived in his previous life. Therefore, moving the living room to the second floor didn't feel cramped at all—on the contrary, the reception area's large, unobstructed windows on the second floor offered better lighting.
At the entrance on the first floor, a small reception area was created for guests to manage their clothing and shoes, followed immediately by the usual psychological therapy room arrangement of a sofa, an armchair, and a desk.
One obvious advantage of using a residential property for a private clinic is that because most neighbors decorate for living purposes, there is a natural sense of warmth.
This house had an Irish-style décor with green walls, red fabric decorations, a small stone fireplace, and a variety of wood carvings—all of which could attract patients' attention and help them relax.
More importantly, the lighting in this place was much better than in the manor. Due to the manor's antiquity, the glass was vintage and neither particularly transparent nor clear; the furniture could only be fully illuminated on Gotham's sunniest days.
Moreover, the windows of the manor were small-paneled, and when light streamed through, it was fragmented, barely enough to accentuate the furniture; lighting had to rely on lamps.
However, the new house, albeit retro-styled on the surface, was after all a modern villa. The living room's wall featured a gigantic floor-to-ceiling window with high-end, transparent, bright glass that could adjust light penetration.
The last point was Shiller's favorite. After moving the furniture, he spent a long time choosing—it seemed to be yet another piece of Luther Group's black tech, capable of altering the glass's light filtration. It could even convert sunlight into warm or cold light, maximizing Gotham's scarce sunshine.
It's understandable why such technology would emerge; many Gothamites need it. They want to bask in the sun without being scorched, yearn for bright sunny days, but also miss the dark, dreary life. Any tech that can adjust sunlight is popular among Gotham's wealthy.
Lighting is crucial in psychological therapy; aside from needing lamps to create ambiance, hypnosis also uses lights that flicker and change at different frequencies.
Lamps are excellent, but having the right natural light is even better, as some patients are tense under artificial light sources. Some more severe cases can visually perceive the frequency flicker of lamps, which may trigger psychogenic anxiety or neurogenic epilepsy.
Considerable money was spent on the light arrangement of Marvel's Arkham Sanatorium's psychological therapy rooms. Even the office Shiller used for therapy at S.H.I.E.L.D. had its wiring and lighting completely redone.
Shiller was obviously pleased with the living room lighting, but there were also small drawbacks; for instance, it was sidelight and not overhead light, and outside the window, there were no sufficient plants, just neatly trimmed lawns.
However, precisely because the house wasn't too large, one could see the door at the back through the entrance hall. So planting some trees in the backyard to give a sense of depth to the space could also work.
Sitting in the reception chair, one couldn't see the kitchen but could see the dining table. So, Shiller had the dining table neatly arranged, with a table runner, placemats, meticulously folded napkins, and two identical vases of fresh flowers.
One thing Shiller particularly liked: the staircase to the upstairs was a spiral and was lined with bookshelves on the side—perfectly visible from the reception chairs.
Shiller had filled the interior with a large number of books, none of them about psychology, but all sorts of books with strange and quirky names, such as "How to Fold a Napkin into a Monkey."
As a follower of the psychoanalytic school, Shiller preferred to conduct psychological therapy when patients were completely off guard, or even when their attention was not on him at all.
Because frankly, asking those questions was meaningless; Shiller did not rely on asking questions to analyze the other person. He relied directly on his intuition and observation, so the more the other person's attention was scattered and unguarded, the better.
Therefore, he filled the entire therapeutic space with all kinds of strange and quirky things. If possible, he even wanted patients to sit there and watch TV, paying him no mind at all.
However, doing so might lead to questions about his professionalism. So Shiller adopted other tactics, hoping that patients would start conversations with him, like asking why he wanted to fold napkins into monkeys, and whether they could try to fold one themselves.
To this end, Shiller also placed a number of small sculptures on the desk next to him, souvenirs from when he traveled to the Port of Mercy. If the other person had also been there, they could chat about their travel experiences.
There were also numerous photos hung on the wall behind the desk; some were taken by his students during class, some during teacher dinners, of course, as well as pictures of Robins from childhood to adulthood, and commemorative photos celebrating their victory in a ball game.
Some were taken by Shiller, some by Victor, Bruce, Anna, and others, and some by Clark specifically for keepsake.
And not to be forgotten was the giant Batman puppet, the most strange and quirky of all Shiller's collectibles, which was placed next to the staircase bookshelf.
Shiller had never hoped more that his patients would notice it immediately upon arrival and ask where it came from, so that he could spend at least half an hour telling them about his experience with a bat enthusiast who had foisted the puppet on him.
To put it bluntly, Shiller was in it for the money; he didn't actually need to go through the process of psychological therapy. But since most psychotherapists charge by the hour, he needed to find something to talk about while keeping the patients there.
Arrogant wasn't very good at finding conversation topics; he couldn't just charge by the hour and keep the conversation going from the creation of the world to the explosion of the Seventh Universe like Greed did.
Arrogant preferred the patients to come up with topics themselves because it would not only buy time but also lower their defenses.
Gothamites, unlike New Yorkers, were always wary, even when aware of their illness. If a psychologist started asking questions right away, they'd get suspicious and even less likely to open up.
So letting them spot something strange and start a conversation was the best choice.
Shiller even decided to hire Bat Cat to come to work, because if there was a pet in the room, some patients might choose to talk about their pets, and cute animals could also lower patients' defenses.
The only issue was that Bat Cat was a bit overweight and its disposition wasn't suitable for a comfort animal, and Little Kryptonite could talk, which Shiller feared might scare the patients half to death.
After setting everything up, Shiller stepped outside the house and pushed the door open, simulating a patient's entrance.
Although there were many odd things placed around, this was after all a lived-in space, not an office, so some clutter wasn't odd.
Upon opening the door, what first caught the eye was the decor style; the house's previous owner had good taste. Although red and green, it wasn't jarring; instead, it reminded one of an Irish palace.
Next was the seating area by the fireplace and the window. Usually, most patients chose the seat closer to them, and some preferred the corner. Shiller provided two options.
For patients with paranoid delusions, seating was placed far from chandeliers or anything that could fall, and there were no mirrors to reflect objects. Even cabinet doors were blocked with something, and vases and pen holders were filled with items. Even photo frames were round or oval shaped and made of plastic, avoiding anything sharp or fragile.
The sofas and armchairs were not too soft; behind them were placed cushions to support the lower back. The central air conditioning was set slightly higher to induce sleepiness, and even the water provided was at near-body temperature, so as not to awaken the senses with any stimuli.
The noon sunlight was just right, the room was eerily quiet, with only a very faint whistling of the wind sneaking in through the window cracks. The only scents were the natural ones emitted by plants and books, and the clock's second hand ticked rhythmically.
Shiller was satisfied with his arrangements because after sitting in the chair for a while, he began to feel sleepy.