Chapter 2852: Alien Demon Forbidden Zone (Twelve)

Upon entering the bedroom, Shiller did not lower his guard; he remained silent, not even writing. He just gave Gordon a calming look and then started to inspect the room.

Before Shiller could take any action, he saw the eyes in the painting on the wall move.

Shiller began to understand, so instead of touching anything in the room, he took out a white candle and lit it.

Soon, Shiller sighed and complained internally about the meager consultation fee he was given for his visit.

Nevertheless, he diligently began to assess the situation in the room, especially the wandering eyes in the painting, piecing together memories he had with an expression of realization.

The chaos exhibited by the hotel was morbid, readily interpreted as the inner world of a mentally ill person; in fact, many mentally ill individuals perceive the world in this manner.

It's not about the monsters scurrying everywhere, horrific bloody incidents, or the utterly irrational state of affairs, but rather the condition that all these elements reflect.

Someone was feeling fear.

The hotel was almost a direct manifestation of fear: a sound, a pattern, a rule, a sensation, all reflecting someone's profound fear.

For example, some mentally ill individuals often react violently to seemingly trivial things, and it's always specific items within the same category that trigger them; for instance, they might not fear the sound of thunder, but if a lid drops to the floor, they start to panic.

Logically, both are sounds, and the sound of thunder is much louder than something dropping, and speaking of which, they hold no grudge against the lid, yet that particular incident triggers their episode.

But the problem isn't the lid itself or the act of dropping things, but rather a certain type of sound that triggers their fear of specific things.

Oftentimes, ordinary people may find it hard to see any connection or might say there really isn't one, but in the illusionary system of a mentally ill person, there is a connection.

Many mentally ill individuals have described seeing terrifying monsters in the corners of rooms or in their peripheral vision, summoned by specific sounds or shadows. As soon as a similar sound or pattern appears, the monsters would arrive as expected, wanting to kill them.

In the real world, of course, these monsters don't exist, but in the psychic battlefields of their individuals, some sounds and visuals are imbued with the sinister power to summon monsters.

Therefore, when dealing with intense reactions from mentally ill individuals, the goal is not to explore what is so special about the lid or whether they previously dropped something significant that could cause a panic attack. This would be an extreme folly of behaviorism.

In reality, the connection to such sounds might be a figment of their imagination, and at this time, professional psychologists will choose to focus on their psychic battlefield.

First, they will ask what is wrong. The patient might not be able to respond well, but through leading questions, one can discover what exactly they fear, what the monsters in their hallucinations look like, their patterns, and how they can be made to leave.

It might sound somewhat superstitious, but this truly is a scientific treatment method, including encouraging patients to bravely confront the monsters, strengthen their will, and never to lose to the monsters.

Even though all doctors know that these monsters do not exist, they must act this way because if they can't soothe the patients on a mental level, enabling them to confront the fearful entities in their hallucinations, the next time a lid falls to the ground, they will still have an episode, they will still panic.

Healing such mental illnesses ultimately isn't about eradicating the monster but enabling the patients to coexist with it without fear, to muster the courage to battle it, because only by overcoming it can they ignore it.

Shiller believed that the hotel was fraught with imagery that awakens certain peoples' fears, most notably the elevator bell.

This thing rings in the elevator, in the hallways, on the monsters, and even on the alarm clock—it is clearly a compulsive thought of the patients.

Some patients, when their condition worsens, react not only to the sound of a lid falling but to many similar sounds, eventually perceiving every sound as a monster's summons.

The sound of the elevator bell is clearly such, ringing at every moment they feel threatened, while riding the elevator, walking down hallways, lying in bed, or when someone passes by the door.

At this stage, the patients are clearly disturbed by some monster, appearing in confined spaces, when crossing a hallway, when closing their eyes to darkness, and even when they suddenly hear a noise in the silence.

The dining room took it a step further, with the rules of Western dining etiquette being immensely magnified; those who comply survive, those who don't are doomed to die, again and again, restlessly.

This implies that the monster's presence has begun to affect their daily lives, making them fear that the monster might cause them to be rude in important situations, break their current life rules, and plunge them into total failure.