Chapter 248: Snowy Night Campfire (Part 3)_1

A somber atmosphere pervaded the room, and the ripples on the teacup reflected Victor's heavy breath. Cobblepot only mechanically grasped the water cup and poured it into his mouth, oblivious to the scalding heat of the freshly boiled water.

"When she's a mental patient, she can harm you with impunity, because she doesn't know who you are, and she doesn't know who she is."

"But when she becomes a mother again, no mother can accept what she has done..."

"Perhaps, she has always wanted me to leave." Cobblepot's tone became somewhat numb: "When she had her episodes, she would throw anything she could pick up at me, telling me to get lost..."

"But I can't leave, I can't leave her." Cobblepot's voice began to tremble again: "No matter what, I can't leave her, she is my mother."

Victor closed his eyes and a heavy sigh emanated from his mouth and nose. Shiller also sighingly said, "I suggested you move to a new apartment when I previously prescribed you medication. A change of environment is beneficial for the patient to start a new phase of treatment and recovery."

Cobblepot shook his head, his tears glinting in the dim light as he said, "She doesn't want to go."

"Why?"

Cobblepot's hand tightly gripped the water cup, the veins bulging out on the back of his hand.

"Because of my father."

"According to my mother, she met my father on this street, he brought her back here, to meet his family. They would have dinner together, drink sweet wine, chat by the fireplace…"

"My uncle sang songs, and the rest would laugh and ask them to dance…"

Accompanied by a slightly hoarse voice, the fireplace flames flickered up. People gathered around the sofa in a lively manner, bringing wine and fruit plates. When a folk tune began to play, everyone started clapping.

A young couple stepped into the middle of the room, they danced, robes flying. When the song ended, they walked hand in hand, receiving the praise and blessings of their family, and then hand in hand walked into the church.

Until one of their hands touched the name on the tombstone. On a cold rainy night, only a madwoman was left spinning in the gloomy and decaying old manor, with only the rain providing her song.

"After my father died, my mother blamed everything on him for not bringing an umbrella on that rainy night. So she often turned over everything in the house, trying to find an umbrella."

"But if I actually gave her an umbrella, she would scream, curse, and use a chair to smash it. She said it was cursed, she said we were all cursed..."

"I can't remember how long this has been going on..."

"In the beginning, she would hold me and talk incessantly about their stories all night. Later on, she would silently sit in the corner of the living room every night, rummaging through the cabinet she had already ransacked countless times…"

"Whenever I tried to stop her, she would start attacking me. Eventually, as soon as I returned home, she would tell me to leave…"

"When she began to gradually wake up, I was overjoyed, I thought the worst was over, but I could ever have imagined..."

Cobblepot covered his face with his hands, his shoulders twitching uncontrollably. His choked sobs, bereft of any more tears, sounded more like an owl's hooting. In such a heavy atmosphere, it was almost comically pitiful.

As such, daylight broke. An even more piercing phone ring sounded, and Shiller picked up the phone saying, "Really? She's awake? ... All right, we're on our way..."

When they left Cobotte Manor, the sun was just rising over the horizon. The overnight rain left the air saturated with moisture, and the morning wind brought in a refreshing chill. With every breath, it felt as though they were swallowing chunks of ice.

The car headed for the hospital. As the trio alighted, Gordon had already come out, saying somewhat helplessly, "You better go in quickly, she's causing quite a ruckus."

Upon reaching the upper floor, even before entering the ward, they saw a nurse standing outside the room, holding an IV bottle in one hand, and the IV tube and bloodied needle in the other. An older nurse was about to enter the room when Victor stopped them and asked, "What happened?"

The younger nurse sighed and said, "As soon as this lady woke up, she pulled out all the IV needles stuck in her hand. She bled a lot and started swinging the IV pole around, attacking everyone. We dare not approach."

The older nurse peered into the room, "We need to restrain her as soon as possible, her hand is still bleeding. If the wound gets worse, it'll be even harder to deal with."

At that moment, there was the sound of footsteps from the stairs nearby. Brand leading a group of nurses walked over. He waved his hand and ordered, "Sedate her."

Inside the room, Mrs. Old Cobblepot was like a madwoman, growling and attempting to attack anyone who approached.

But fortunately, she was an old woman who had lost much blood and lacked strength. She was quickly restrained, and once the sedatives were administered, she quieted down. Then she lay on the bed, her eyes blankly staring at the ceiling.

Cobblepot walked in front, with Victor and Shiller following behind. Cobblepot walked to his mother's bedside. Mrs. Old Cobblepot turned her eyeballs to look at her son, and Cobblepot saw a look of guilt and plea on her weathered face.

"Why did you stop me... Orr..." Her hoarse voice came from her throat, and Cobblepot trembled and couldn't respond.

"I don't want to stay here anymore... I can't do this anymore, don't stop me..." Mrs. Old Kopot began to tremble all over, but she was unable to move and could only stiffen in place.

Shiller suddenly pushed Cobblepot and whispered, "Show your arm to your mother."

Cobblepot turned around without understanding, and Victor looked at Shiller. But under Shiller's gaze, Cobblepot extended his arm and rolled up his sleeve.

His arm was thin and coarse, and his skin was unnaturally pale, but there were no wounds at all.

Shiller stepped to the bedside and said to Mrs. Old Kopot, "Madam, you suffer from paranoid schizophrenia. You imagined that you attacked your son during your episode, but we medicated you and you've now regained clarity."

Mrs. Old Kopot froze, gripping her son's wrist with her claw-like hand and, making a huge effort, she rolled onto her side to softly touch Cobblepot's arm with her other hand.

It felt very smooth and not a single scar was left. The Lizard Serum Healing Drug made by Connors not only treats external injuries but can even heal scars left by injuries.

Cobblepot felt his mother's arm shaking before he heard her sobbing, not sure if it was from guilt or relief.

"Mom didn't want to do it, I didn't want to do it..."

"You didn't do it." Shiller's tone was certain as if he didn't at all seem to be lying. Victor rubbed his eyes in doubt, wondering if the sight of Cobblepot, covered in wounds, was a hallucination.

"Yes…" Cobblepot gripped his mother's hand and said, "That is all a hallucination caused by you not taking your medication on time. Mom, as long as you get treated and take your medication in the hospital, these things will not happen again…"

Mrs. Old Kopot was crying so hard she couldn't catch her breath. Brand sighed from outside the door, saying, "You should leave her alone for now, the patient needs to rest."

Mrs. Old Kopot clung tightly to her son's hand so Cobblepot couldn't leave; only Shiller and Victor walked to the door of the sickroom.

The morning light seeped in through the window, making the door frame look like a painting frame. Shiller and Victor stood under the golden backdrop.

Victor touched his lips with his trembling fingers. Shiller noticed him trembling, his emotions gathered over the night broke out making the usually gentile and steady Professor look like he was about to collapse.

His eyes even began to lose focus, as if he was plagued by terrifying hallucinations.

"If Nora were to die…" Victor's voice rose like a broken bowstring on a violin. He looked at Shiller with a pleading look in his eyes and said, "…would I end up going insane like this?"

Shiller did not know the answer because he was dealing with a living human being, his patient, not a character from a comic book or a movie.

The transmigrator's intimate knowledge of the storyline and prophetic insights did not give any sense of superiority here. They only brought heavier sorrow.

Each person in the world has their own tragedy, and no single response could be the answer to every one of these tragedies, hence no saviors exist.

Within the city of Gotham, some performed tragedies, some comedies, some laughed at tragedies, cried for comedies, and few laughed while crying, and vice versa.

There was no one who could make everyone cry nor anyone who could make everyone laugh, including transmigrators or prophets.

This was Gotham, a city that could not be saved.

In the painting-like frame, the golden backdrop almost overflowed. Suddenly, Victor trembled as he turned around. He marched back into the sickroom and stared straight at Cobblepot, saying, "Come with me, Cobblepot...come with me!"

Cobblepot allowed himself to be lead, rising from the bedside and leaving the hospital as the morning light swallowed their figures. At some point, Shiller, who had been standing by the door, had also disappeared.

Returning to the laboratory, Victor quickly took off his moisture-covered coat and tossed it aside.

He gently touched Cobblepot's back, propelling him forward, then stood in front of the desk, turning to face Cobblepot.

Victor looked as if he had lost his usual gentility and mildness. Under the cold laboratory lights, he seemed somewhat neurotic and a little mad.

"Cobblepot..."

Victor looked into Cobblepot's eyes, which held a warmth, expectation, and obsession Cobblepot did not understand.

It didn't look like a teacher looking at a student, more like a father looking at his son, or perhaps more accurately, like a person rescued from tragedy looking at another tragedy - like a traveler in a snowfield looking at another traveler.

And then Cobblepot heard Victor ask him:

"Cobblepot... do you know how water turns into ice?"