Chapter 1972 U: Beyond Major Events (61)_1

This time, the bus ride seemed exceptionally long, perhaps to allow the passengers some rest. The road was smooth, and the vehicle was exceedingly steady. The occupants inside were on the brink of sleepiness.

A normal person would not have slept peacefully after experiencing such a surreal dream. The feeling of being drowsy yet unable to sleep is the most torturous.

But the four people on the bus had no such worries, they closed their eyes and began to doze off. But none of them deeply needed sleep to recharge, and when they'd sufficiently recuperated, they began waking up one by one.

There was no noticeable change in Batman and Natasha, but Beihan and Shiller were a bit different.

Beihan seemed a lot more relaxed, still wearing the light-colored suit he had acquired from Nihilite Manor. He removed the suit's jacket, unbuttoned his shirt collar, loosened his rather stiff neck, and let out a long breath.

Natasha, who sat in front of him, turned around, rested her chin on the back of the chair, and raised an eyebrow, "You look good, huh?"

"I haven't felt this good in a long time," Beihan replied, a corner of his mouth lifted in a grin as he winked at Natasha. It was evident he was implying something.

Natasha instantly flashed a radiant smile. The agent pursed her lips, gestured for Beihan to come, and they both slipped into the neighboring seats, chattering about something.

Upon waking up, Batman noticed something amiss about Shiller, and so he moved next to him, turned to look at him, and tentatively asked, "Greed?"

Shiller yawned, nodded, tugged at his slightly tight shirt collar, and sighed, "I told them I didn't want to come, but they insisted."

"What about the others?" Batman asked, referring to the other personalities of Shiller.

"Nothing much, but the noise they made was too much, they've been put in isolation by the Superego," Shiller sighed again, "I don't think I fit in here, I'm just a psychologist."

"I hope so."

Shiller glared at Batman, "What do you mean? I am not like those lunatics in Gotham. I am a normal, skilled, reasonably priced psychologist."

"Three hundred million dollars per quarter of consultation fees?"

"How did he tell you this?" Shiller complained, "When are you two planning to go to the church?"

After saying this, he appeared restless, stood up from his chair, moved to the aisle between the seats, and began looking around. He tapped the back of the seat with his knuckles, then he looked up at the skylight, appearing as if he was strolling through a market.

As he was about to jostle the chair with his hand, he seemed to have heard something in the air and muttered, "All right, all right, playing by the rules, happy now?"

Shiller, now disinterested, returned to his seat. But, not even half a minute later, he pointed at Batman and asked, "Is there someone in the driver's seat?"

"There wasn't before."

Shiller stood up again, held onto the armrests and moved to the front of the bus. A side glance confirmed that indeed there was no one in the driver's seat.

The driver's cabin of the bus was a separate space, with a metal wall in the middle and a small door, just big enough for an adult to pass.

The top of the door consisted of vertical bars, the bottom was a sturdy iron plate, and the door was a transparent iron wire net. A large lock was hung on the door, and a circle of diamond-shaped markers were drawn on the lock.

Batman and his companions had already examined this lock in the past. At this point, only four of the ten diamonds were lit, signifying they had made it through four rounds successfully. To unlock this lock, evidently, all ten rounds of the game had to be completed.

Shiller squatted, picked up the lock, and peered in the keyhole. It was empty, with its structure intact within.

However, the material of the lock was very unusual, not regular metal. It was light yet durable, and all the metal structures on the bus appeared similar, likely impenetrable by force.

It seemed there were two ways to end the game: either complete the ten rounds or find the key to the lock.

Yet, another question remained: where would the bus need to be driven to after the driver's cabin was unlocked, to signify the end of the game?

At this point, the remaining three had also gathered around, crouching, sitting, or standing at the entrance of the driver's cabin. Shiller casually jiggled the lock and asked, "Have you watched those horror films that consist of many little stories?"

"Like the Deadly Tapes?" Natasha gave an example, "The basic plot involves some organization that investigates a location, finds a bunch of videotapes, each one a terrifying hoax documentary."

"Yes, but one common feature of such films is that there will be a main line binding all the stories together."

"Like the Deadly Tapes story, the tapes are carriers of the terrifying tales. Each tape symbolizes a horror story, while the continuous discovery of tapes and unveiling of their origin and meaning represents the main plot."

Shiller stood up, patted the door of the driver's seat next to him and said, "Apparently, this bus is equivalent to the tapes from Deadly Tapes. It leads us from one horror tale to another, while the investigation into this bus's secret is clearly our main plot."

Natasha crossed her arms, delicately tapping her toes, "True, in such horror films made up of little tales, many of these tales are intertwined. Characters and bystanders from previous stories become the lead of the next."

"The chain of events is naturally caused by the puppet-master of the main plot, and the main characters and supportive roles interact with him more or less."

"Seems we should have been gathering clues from the previous stories," Shiller said.

And as soon as he had finished, the eyes of the others fell upon him, their gaze not very friendly as if remarking, who caused our inability to gather clues carefully?

Shiller awkwardly coughed a couple of times. Natasha saw the familiar demeanor in Shiller and tentatively called out, "Doctor?"

Shiller gave her a smile in response, Natasha breathed a sigh of relief, approached Shiller and hugged him, patting his back, "Long time no see, Doctor."

"Indeed, it's been a while. Your next psychological assessment is nearing."

I know it's not that far away."

Beihan turned his head to look at Batman, having faintly heard his conversation with Shiller earlier. He noticed that he seemed to be the only one in the car unfamiliar with Shiller's new persona.

Leaning against the door, Shiller smiled at Beihan and said, "Nice to meet you. I am actually Doctor Shiller."

"You seem like someone from Metropolis."

"You could say that."

Shiller yawned and turned his gaze towards the monotone scenery outside the car window. Just as he was about to say something, the unexpected happened.

"Boom!!!"

Blinding explosions, rolling flames, and darkness descended upon their eyes.

Shiller didn't feel any pain, but he did experience a brief lapse of consciousness, portrayed by a moment of blindness.

Although the blackout was brief, the recovery process was somewhat lengthy. Just as if he was regaining consciousness from a faint, Shiller regained his consciousness, but not his senses yet.

Gradually, he felt himself laying on the icy cold ground. He thought, what a disaster-stricken interlude.

Shortly afterward, Shiller realized he could hear sounds again. He could hear a "zizz-zizz" sound of electric current emanating from above him. Following this, a hazy light appeared in his field of vision, seeming to come from a bulb hanging above his head.

Then he realized he could lift his arm. The dizziness was still intense, so Shiller lay on the ground not moving, until he could feel his entire body.

By this time, Shiller's vision had completely recovered. The halo of light he saw indeed came from a lamp hanging from the ceiling.

His palms detected that he was lying on cement flooring, without any tiles or floorboards. The ground was a bit damp and thus particularly cold.

Shiller sat up very slowly, turned his head towards the source of the electrical sound. Upon looking, he saw a large television placed in the corner of the room above. The TV was constantly playing static, and the "zizz-zizz" sound was coming from it.

"What the hell? Don't tell me a doll will pop up and tell me it wants to play a game with me. Such a rip-off would be really lame."

Shiller mumbled to himself, stood up, stretched his neck, and massaged his waist. Finding no pain in these areas, just a little dizziness, he sighed and said, "Why does it have to be so intense right from the start? Have I been kidnapped?"

The snowflake points on the TV screen flickered twice, and the frequency of the "zizz-zizz" sound changed. Shiller turned to look at it again. After a few flickers, a figure appeared on the screen.

Indeed, it was not a puppet, it was a cloth doll.

With one hand on his waist and one finger pointing out from the other, Shiller said, "If you dare to say 'I want to play a game with you'..."

"You must play a game with me."

Shiller facepalmed.

Shiller let out a long sigh, looked at the television with resignation. The cloth doll was a little girl with light brown burlap skin and deep brown hair, braided from yarn. Two buttons were sewn onto the place of her eyes, the mouth was a stitched line but it could be opened. There was red cotton inside the mouth.

"Shiller, you are a psychiatrist…"

"You're mistaken, I'm a professor of Psychology".

"Shiller, you're a psychiatrist..."

"Doll, you're a voice recorder."

"Shiller, you are a psychiatrist…"

"Okay okay, I am. Hurry up and continue."

"Shiller, you're a psychiatrist, you've listened to countless people's troubles. However, the treatment outcome often depends on their ability to pay. You don't care about their pain; you only care about the money you earn."

"That's true."

The cloth doll paused for a moment.

"You have had countless opportunities to save others' lives. But you have ruthlessly refused them simply because they cannot provide you with the material conditions you desire."

"Don't twist it as if there's someone in this world who could provide me with the material conditions that I desire."

The cloth doll paused once more.

It seemed that the doll's original lines were quite long, but strangely, it didn't continue. Instead, it said, "The code to open the door is within people's hearts. You must use your excellent psychology skills to know their secrets. What choice will you make this time?"

With a "click" sound, a phone fell from the ceiling, complete with a jack cable. With a slight, "Click", Shiller saw a small secret door, under the wall behind him, it opened revealing a socket.

Just as he plugged in the phone cable, the phone rang urgently. Shiller picked it up and said, "Hello?"

"Hello? Are you the psychiatrist?"

It was Peter Parker's voice.