The first floor of the Three Cats Inn was an open-plan building, with only a raised area under the stairs, one step higher than the normal floor.
The second floor of the Three Cats Inn was like an atrium, with tables placed around its perimeter.
Leaning on the railing, one could directly see the first floor, which was designed to allow people on the second floor to also watch the Bard's performance on the first floor.
The Inn was still as it had been, and the female Innkeeper, Mrs. Sangmei, warmly greeted the two.
The Psychologist took Xia De to the second floor, where they sat down in a secluded corner.
Tobesk City was still shrouded in thick fog that afternoon.
After all, the City's steam pipeline heating would begin next Monday, and the exhaust gas produced by factories had been much higher than usual recently.
Coupled with the already poor weather that day, the Three Cats Inn had already lit its gas lamps, even though it was still afternoon.
However, to save on gas expenses, the light was not very strong.
The Psychologist first went to the third floor to call down his patient, Mr. Jimus, telling Xia De to wait there.
Since the Psychologist had already ordered drinks from the scantily clad waitress, Xia De did not need to do anything extra.
After the Psychologist left, he sat there observing the other guests.
To help Mr. Jimus calm down a little, Psychologist Schneider had chosen the southeast corner of the second floor.
Furthermore, there were not many guests on a Friday afternoon, so when Xia De looked around, he could only see a middle-aged woman with her back to him, drinking from a glass, at a wall-side table on the other side of the second floor, opposite the atrium.
“A woman drinking alone in an Inn on a Friday afternoon?”
Xia De smelled “the scent of a story,” but he was not a Writer like Dorothy, so although curious, he had no intention of investigating.
Before Psychologist Schneider returned, their drinks were delivered, and it was none other than the Innkeeper, Mrs. Sangmei, who carried the tray up the stairs.
“Mrs. Sangmei, you haven't kicked out the waitstaff to save money because business is slow this afternoon, have you?”
Xia De asked with a smile.
The female Innkeeper, wearing an apron, placed the glasses one by one on the table:
“Oh, Detective, it's only out of respect for Hamilton of Leijiede that I personally brought you your drinks!”
Mrs. Sangmei also said with a smile, and after placing the glasses on the table, she brought another plate of stir-fried beans and placed it in the center of the table:
“This is for you?”
“Why?”
Xia De blinked.
“These past few days, I've heard people mention ‘the Detective's Penny Problem,’ and whenever people in the City talk about it, they mention our place.”
Mrs. Sangmei said:
“Consider it thanks, Detective, you've made us more famous.”
Xia De reached out, picked up a bean, and threw it into his mouth:
“Only one plate of beans? Isn't that a bit too stingy?”
Soon after Mrs. Sangmei left, Psychologist Schneider returned with Mr. Jimus.
Contrary to Xia De’s imagination, although Mr. Jimus was thin and not tall, he did not exhibit “nervous” or abnormal behavior.
Mr. Jimus was a middle-aged man in his thirties.
He had already learned Xia De’s identity from Psychologist Schneider and politely extended his hand to greet him.
When the three sat down, Psychologist Schneider sat with his back to the wall, Xia De sat opposite the Psychologist, and Mr. Jimus sat to the Psychologist’s left and Xia De’s right.
Psychologist Schneider’s psychological treatment did not require Xia De’s input, so he sat listening as the Psychologist inquired about Mr. Jimus’s schedule for the week and the problems he had encountered in the past few days.
From their conversation, Xia De learned that Mr. Jimus’s “persecutory delusion” was not about feeling that someone always wanted to kill him, but rather feeling that his surroundings were full of accidents, and that any slight disturbance could lead to a fatal crisis.
If he saw someone playing with a dagger, he would believe the dagger would surely stab him; if he saw a banana peel ahead, he would believe he would surely step on it, slip, and die; he even believed that stray cats and dogs rummaging through trash cans in the alley would harm him.
This psychological problem appeared three months ago.
Mr. Jimus was not a native of Tobesk City, but an accountant from Antru City, a City further north.
He sought help from a Psychologist locally, but with little effect.
Coincidentally, his employer, the “Levant Wool Supply and Marketing Company,” sent him to Tobesk City to reconcile year-end accounts with local upstream suppliers, and through an introduction, he found Psychologist Schneider.
Of course, although the patient himself believed he could die at any moment, in reality, in the three months since this “delusion” appeared, he had not been injured by any accident, apart from a mild cold for a few weeks.
However, as time passed, Mr. Jimus’s “sense of crisis” grew stronger and stronger, to the point where he was now even unwilling to go to unfamiliar places like Psychologist Schneider’s clinic.
Psychologist Schneider tried to analyze Mr. Jimus’s psychological state from various angles, and in the past few weeks, he had also prescribed some calming and sleep-aiding medications for him.
This method could indeed relieve tension, but it had little effect on Mr. Jimus’s “fatal crisis perception.”
Their conversation lasted for over half an hour.
Psychologist Schneider had a preliminary understanding of his patient’s psychological changes for the week, so he motioned for Xia De to speak.
Xia De did not feel he could play a significant role, but since he was already there, he treated it as a Detective investigation:
“Mr. Jimus, before you suddenly developed this strange idea three months ago, did you encounter anything unusual?”
He asked carefully.
“Psychologist Schneider and I have already analyzed the past events that might have affected my mental state.”
Mr. Jimus shook his head slightly.
“No, no, what I mean is, have you been to a cemetery, an abandoned rural church, a strange shop in an alley, or purchased any strange pendants, eerie statues, or old books with leather covers?”
Xia De asked with a serious expression.
Mr. Jimus thought for a moment before understanding his meaning:
“Detective, are you saying…”
“Just a possibility.
While I don't advocate introducing theology into the study of mental science, sometimes we have to consider all kinds of reasons.”
Xia De said, and Psychologist Schneider, who was beside him, also nodded:
“That’s why I brought the Detective.
Of course, you don’t have to pay the Detective extra for this.”
Mr. Jimus was then relieved.
He recalled for a moment:
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve come into contact with anything strange.”
“I see…”
Xia De thought for a moment and then proposed another idea:
“Since you feel constantly enveloped by fatal danger, have you tried actually putting yourself in peril?
Perhaps once you truly escape death, the strange psychological feeling will disappear.
This is somewhat similar to using poison to alleviate another poison, a method of detoxification.”
“Is there such a detoxification method?”
Mr. Jimus asked curiously, but then immediately nodded:
“It certainly sounds reasonable, but how do I put myself in peril?”
“That’s simple.”
Xia De reached into his overcoat, looked around, and then took out the gun of kindness from his gun holster, placing it on the table amidst Mr. Jimus’s astonished expression:
“Use this.”
