Raised a little clear monocle with a bright brown stalk on his nose. Gilbert looked around him—couldn't believe what he was seeing. This is a relatively large and luxurious psychiatric hospital.
He stopped in front of a room with a glowing red wooden door and the number 130. Knocking until he got a response, he gulped nervously, then ventured to see who Dexmon Anderson was—the madman who got the lecturer's attention and could help him.
His brain is busy thinking. Is he a bald guy with a brilliant brain? Is he a handsome older man like in the movies, or is he a man with a big body and black skin?
Who knows -Gilbert?
"Excusme, Sir," Gilbert said.
"Welcome, Mr. Abraham."
The voice was not heavy. It sounded clear yet intonated, piercing, and intimidating. Gilbert swallowed his saliva violently. I couldn't believe what he saw. Only a little boy with a black Persian cat was on his head.
"Are you Mr. Dexmon Sammael Anderson?" trying to confirm or convince himself.
"Yes, I am," replied The little boy, who was far from the shadow in Gilbert's mind. It seems that the psychiatrist received a great surprise this afternoon.
The black cat above the eleven-year-old boy's head jumped down. It was staring at Gilbert in front of him with eyes as black as the darkness of the night. "Man... don't look at our guests like that," the boy—Dexmon called his pet. Obedient, even now, the black cat was sitting on the lap of the master, enjoying the caress of the boy, who looked cold and piercing, like a dagger.
"Please call me Gilbert."
Dexmon nodded his head. "Then call me Dexmon, my brother Gilbert," replied Dexmon.
"May I know how you got here?" Gilbert asked, looking into the face of the boy looking straight out the window. "Do I have to pay $300 for counseling?" he joked a little, satirizing the treatment at Langley Porter Psychiatric Hospital that seemed expensive.
Gilbert laughed, "No, Where Are you—"
"The best psychiatrist graduate of George Washington University, in his second year, experienced financial problems and received a scholarship with the help of Prof. David Sretron—I don't like him. The best percentage in the workshop entitled 'ecosystem and Psychology'. IP obtained from 3.8 to 4.5. Yeah, you're great because you can get an A plus that's impossible to give. Both parents died at the age of four because of the tornado. Lived with Catlyn Sorn until the age of 17. Finished college and got a degree at the age of 20 years." Cut Dexmon explains a brief biography of the psychiatrist who is now shaking violently due to the child who seemed to lock him in a circle of ignorance.
"Do you know me from Prof. David?"
"No, I'm investigating you. That's just a summary. Even I know how much you spend for one day and the source of your life scholarship."
Grinning. The boy now looks even scarier than a hungry tiger. Gilbert didn't find any fear in those eyeballs. It's so quiet and flat. It can't even be detected whether the child is experiencing an emotion. "Who are you really?"
"I'm Dexmon Sammael Anderson and everyone knows me as a 'Demon' whithout 'X'. Entering this mental hospital is suspected of depression due to the loss of two parents."
Gilbert was stunned with his eyes as he watched the miracle. Like the Harry Potter movie footage, a black cat jumped out of bed and turned into a man dressed in all black—without a robe, of course—long-sleeved clothes and trousers, boots, and most importantly, a rattle used on his neck, indicating he was the black cat who was in Dexmon's lap.
"This is Timothy, called Timmy. My beloved cat and he is the one who killed those two ape-like noisy humans on my orders."
"Ugh!" Gilbert's body was shaking violently. He was trying to get away from two terrible figures who were like life-giving demons to him. Timmy's eyes stared into his eyes. But really, he was more afraid of the little boy's gaze, who stared blankly at the floor above his bed.
Timmy brought his body closer to Gilbert, extending his hand and giving the impression of being friendly with his sweet smile. "No need to be afraid. We will. Man's peace wants, and only you can help him get it."
Dexmon said, "You're too friendly."
"And you scared him too much, Sammy," Timmy reproached. Do not accept that man's best friend who made him able to walk on two legs and speak fluently, unlike cats in general. "Hm," Dexmon muttered.
"He won't hurt you," Timmy held out his hand. A boost of confidence in a cat. Gilbert reached a hand that felt so far away because of the terrible gaze of the boy who turned to look at him.
Sreet!
When he pulled that hand, it was as if a sense of security had replaced the fear. "Thank you" is the word Gilbert uses to describe the feeling he gets from the touch that is not something special.
~G.0.D~
An eleven-year-old boy now wears a gray-red hat to cover his dark black hair, a black short-sleeved T-shirt with the image of the anime character BLACK CAT XIII on the front side, and brown pants that adequately cover his knees. He wore lace-up boots that she tied neatly to form a beautiful ribbon knot. A dark, black, fluffy Persian cat matching the boy's black hair looks quite relaxed on top of his head.
Dexmon stared blankly ahead as Gilbert, a man much older than him, clasped his hands. Taking him out of the mental institution that had kept her locked up—bringing him back to the world that was not too great in his eyes, feeling the sun's light stinging his white skin, and letting his nose smell the smell of the wind that felt very natural.
"Then Where Are we going?" Gilbert asked as Dexmon pulled his hand from Gilbert's grip. The boy seemed too proud to accept any other stimulation on his body that he knew was warmer than the touch of the beloved cat. Just a knowing smile —Gilbert knows that it's not just a form of arrogance but a lack of desire for involvement. The boy in front of him seemed to be an anti-social person.
Wait to answer. Dexmon, the boy prodigy, prefers to fiddle with the iPad in his hands. He then looked at Gilbert, who was taller than him. "Do you have money to go to California?" he asked.
Raise one eyebrow. The boy asked him to come to California. "Ah no, at least you need more money because we're going to cross by boat."
"Where Are you going, Dexmon?" Gilbert looks impatient. His genius cannot be used to guess the boy's thoughts.
"We will recruit a great army not tied to the state. Where do you think we're going to get it?" the boy seemed to give a clue.
Gilbert again raised one eyebrow. Trying to guess, "Alcatraz?" he asked.
The cat seems to be scratching its head. "Meoow."
"Am I right Timmy? Ugh, wait?! Are you crazy? How are we going to get to Alcatraz?"
Gilbert stopped his steps for a moment. He looked up at the sky, closed his eyes, and then—felt the roar of the wind that slammed against his cold, handsome face. "We need information then."
"Where—"
"The city that became the entertainment center of the World, Las Vegas," cut Dexmon.
"Huh? Are you serious?"
This time, Dexmon was looking at Gilbert intently. "If you don't have the money I still have or should I ask Timmy to break into a bank?"
Gilbert swallowed his saliva. feeling scared. "I think you could use my money."