"So... how long has he been like this?"

The closed office was filled with the smell of disinfectant. Lorenzo sat upright, and behind the desk in front of him was an older woman.

This was a temporary outpost of Black Mountain Hospital. They had directly requisitioned some vacant houses in the Old Dunling area, turning them into a hospital. However, although it was called a hospital, there weren't many patients. After all, most of Black Mountain Hospital's patients had some issues, and they were all at the outpost in the suburbs.

Lorenzo was currently at an outpost with little to do with demons. The research conducted here was relatively ordinary mental research, so it was actually no different from a regular hospital.

"So, was he like this ever since you knew him?"

As she reviewed the diagnosis records, she scribbled notes and continued to question Lorenzo.

"Hmm... When I first met him, he wasn't like this. At that time, he clearly knew that Polo's voice was just his hallucination, caused by a mental disorder from the shipwreck."

While talking, Lorenzo turned his head. On the other side of the office, a large window hung on the wall, beyond which was a pristine hospital ward. Heracles lay on the bed, motionless as if asleep or in a daze, like a corpse.

"So the symptoms appeared back then, only they weren't triggered until your last mission."

The woman, understanding this, continued.

"I mean, has he been like this consistently lately?"

Lorenzo looked at Heracles with some concern. It could be said that it was because of him that Heracles ended up like this. As one of his few friends, Lorenzo visited him often these days, and it was at Lorenzo's request that Heracles was transferred here to receive the most proper treatment.

"You mean like a corpse? More or less. Ever since we separated him from that chinchilla, the voices in his head disappeared. He's quite bored alone, so he does nothing and just lies there."

The woman remembered something and continued.

"But don't worry; he's quite good at entertaining himself. Last time I spoke with him, he told me he was reminiscing about the past and had recalled memories up to when he was six years old. He's quite happy being confined here."

"Happy?"

Lorenzo began to think Heracles was truly crazy.

"Yes, he says he rarely has time to reflect on himself, to review his past self. After hurriedly passing so many years, he feels as if he's watching the memories of another person, unfamiliar and fearful... he can hardly recognize himself in those memories."

The woman raised an eyebrow. She wasn't quite sure how to describe such matters either. In her long career, it was her first time encountering such an intriguing case as Heracles.

"Sounds terrible," Lorenzo said.

"Indeed, but also quite normal. Everyone is like that, transformed beyond recognition under the baptism of time. If you don't believe it, you can also review your past, Mr. Holmes, and reflect on your own past. You may find that you've become another stranger."

Faced with the woman's words, Lorenzo fell silent. She wasn't wrong. Sometimes Lorenzo was also astonished—for a child once wandering along the Tiber River to have become such a terrifying monster was hard for anyone to believe.

"Lorenzo!"

A muffled voice shouted from behind the window. Heracles sat up with a swift motion, stumbling toward the window, pounding on the glass with force.

"Oh, the corpse is talking. Do you want to talk to him?"

The woman inquired upon seeing this.

"Open the door," Lorenzo said.

...

"Lorenzo! It's really good to see a familiar face!"

As soon as the door opened, Heracles hugged Lorenzo tightly. Judging by the force of the embrace and his miserable voice, this time Heracles was sincere.

"You look pretty good, full of energy."

Seeing Heracles so spirited, Lorenzo wasn't too worried about him anymore. After all, he wouldn't die for now. Lorenzo considered whether to go home now.

"I guess I'm alright. So when can I leave, and where's Polo?"

Heracles sat back down on the bed, his attitude turning sour.

"I feel like a lab rat here, being toyed with by these people."

"You are indeed a lab rat. If it weren't for my strong dissuasion, you might have been sliced up by now."

Lorenzo recalled Dean Abigail's previous excitement. The doctors' attitudes were what concerned Lorenzo the most. He was afraid that if he didn't take care of it one day, Heracles would be dissected.

Just think about it—the ethics of these doctors are pathetically scarce, constantly researching demons and humans. Many of the weapons against demons were discovered through bloody experiments. If it weren't for being no match for Lorenzo, Lorenzo felt he would've been laid out on the operating table and examined long ago.

"It's all your fault!"

Heracles' voice rose. Each day spent here made him regret his past decisions even more.

"Alright... so, the doctor said you have schizophrenia."

Lorenzo recalled what the woman had told him. After so many days of testing and diagnosis, they had initially confirmed Heracles' condition: he had schizophrenia. His consciousness was split into Heracles and Polo, and that terrifying memory might just be a byproduct of this illness.