Chapter 114: Are You Crazy, Piaget!

Chapter 114: Have You Lost Your Mind, Piaget?

"Heh."

Awakening from his slumber, Cullen listened to Purr’s recount of the previous night’s events, only then realizing how much his cat and dog had actually managed to orchestrate while he slept.

Holding the piece of stationery in his hand,

Cullen spoke:

"Is this a secret gathering for the remnants of the Light God Cult?"

Purr analyzed, "Therefore, the previous owner must have been a believer of the Light God Cult. He surely attended many of these clandestine gatherings in the past. It’s just that because he moved away this time, we ended up receiving the notice for the next meeting."

Cullen shook his head. "Too much of a coincidence. I don’t buy it."

"But perhaps it really is just that coincidental," Purr said, flicking her tail.

"He moved away, yet he didn't know to report a change of address? The Light God Cult is different from the Wall God Cult. The Wall God Cult is merely a target of suppression for the Order God Cult, but the Light God Cult is currently a target of collective suppression across the entire circle of orthodox churches.

He moves, and the letter is delivered straight into the hands of the second owner. With such a crude system, how has it managed to survive?"

"If the stupid dog’s barking hadn't successfully enticed that crow, we wouldn't have obtained this notice letter either. That crow itself possesses the ability to discern the recipient. In fact, it watched you through the window last night for a long time; at that point, it was already preparing to leave without making the delivery.

Most importantly, it’s highly probable that the original owner simply didn't know how to report upward from the bottom of the hierarchy."

Even upon hearing Purr’s explanation, Cullen remained unconvinced in his heart; he was a highly cautious man.

"Woof! Woof! Woof!"

"What is it saying?"

"It says the original owner might have just been a peripheral believer, at most perhaps a divine servant. The liquidity of such peripheral believers is naturally very high, because they don't belong to the core layer at all.

Furthermore, the remnants of the Order God Cult can only proselytize stealthily now, so the scale of the core layer is naturally even smaller."

"And I think the original owner following his son to the plantation in the colony might also be to spread the Light God Cult anew over there. Because the colonies do not belong to the territory covered by the orthodox churches; although they have their own primitive faiths, they are easier to erode, and they are subject to less surveillance."

Cullen flicked the stationery in his hand and silently looked up at the ceiling.

"Cullen, what are you looking at?"

"I’m looking to see if someone is watching us."

"I think things can be thought of more simply. For instance, the developer of this apartment complex is the Allen Financial Group."

"Perhaps I suffer from persecutory paranoia."

"Woof! Woof! Woof!"

"What is it saying now?"

"It says your worry isn't without reason. So, how do you plan to handle this stationery? Will you go attend this secret gathering of the Light God Cult?"

Cullen tossed the stationery aside and said:

"Only a fool would go."

With that, Cullen got out of bed and went to wash up.

After Cullen left the bedroom, Purr immediately lowered her voice and scolded the golden retriever:

"You actually suggested just now that we send Alfred to kill the entire Alaye family just to judge whether this is a coincidence or a setup?"

The golden retriever looked at Purr, its two ears pinned back against its head.

"The reason I didn't help translate for you this time is because I thought what you said was truly too foolish. Can’t you learn a bit from that radio goblin and keep up with his aesthetic taste?"

The golden retriever let out two whimpers and slunk back into its dog bed.

"But anyway, since the two of us currently have nothing else to do at home, we might as well observe the surroundings."

The golden retriever instantly grew interested and stood up once more.

"But the focus shouldn't be on the Alaye family. Let’s observe the neighbors in this apartment building and some interesting people nearby. At least let’s sort out the matters right at our doorstep first, don't you think?"

"Woof! Woof!"

Hearing this, Purr’s whiskers twitched slightly:

"You’re saying there’s another possibility—that different people's constitutions inherently attract different types of events? Because he is Cullen, certain matters will actively draw near to him in the guise of coincidences?

Oh, heavens, I reckon Cullen certainly wouldn't like this explanation, nor would he like this trouble-attracting constitution."

"Woof! Woof!"

"You’re saying, it is the world that summons the gods, and the gods selectively respond to certain summons?"

"Woof!" The golden retriever nodded excitedly.

"Well said. You’re approaching the level of the radio goblin now."

……

After washing up, Cullen changed into a slightly more formal suit. Facing the mirror, he used a comb to arrange his hair with a bit more precision. Yet despite this, because the appearance of this body was far too handsome, no matter how many solemn elements were added to his person, it still lent him a faintly frivolous air.

Descending the stairs, he happened to see Alfred speaking with Hand before closing the door.

"Young Master, Jane had Hand bring us breakfast."

"Good."

The breakfast sent over was quite sumptuous, but there were only two portions. Evidently, in the eyes of normal people, cats and dogs did not count as human portions.

Two chicken wraps, two corn cakes, and a large bottle of warmed milk.

Taking a bite of the chicken wrap, Cullen said with slight surprise, "The sauce is excellent."

"To receive praise from the Young Master, it must certainly be of an outstanding caliber." Alfred did not reach for the chicken wraps, choosing instead to pick up a corn cake, because he knew his young master disliked things with a corn flavor.

Both chicken wraps were eaten by Cullen alone, and he washed them down with a large glass of milk.

Alfred matched the pace of his master's meal. Just as the master swallowed the final sip of milk from his glass, he too popped the last piece of corn cake into his mouth:

"Young Master, where are you headed?"

This attire certainly meant he was going out.

"Yesterday I saw an advertisement in the newspaper for the opening of a psychological clinic."

"Is the Young Master preparing to guide a poor soul who has lost his way within?"

"The owner of the clinic is Piaget."

"Ah, a poor soul willing to pay a reasonable price."

"I think I can find a job at his place. Only Piaget wouldn't care about my academic credentials."

"Very well, I shall go borrow the car from Alaye."

"Doesn't he need to use it?" Cullen inquired.

"He is taking Hand to the hospital in Sampu City today to check his ears. The whole family is going by train and probably won't return until tomorrow. It seems his previous savings were entirely consumed by the expenses of treating his son's illness, and now, whenever he completes a transaction, he takes his commissions to bring his son for another medical consultation."

"Fair enough."

Alfred successfully borrowed the car from Alaye, and Cullen stepped inside.

Alaye walked over and said to Alfred, "There is a Mandel gas station fuel card in the drawer. If you run low on fuel, you can top it up there."

"Good morning, Master Cullen, and I wish you a safe journey."

"You too."

The Adams Psychological Clinic was located right in the dead center of the city, and rather awkwardly, Cullen found himself caught in the thick of the morning rush hour.

Once the car windows were rolled down, the air filled with the choking stench of various exhaust fumes; many drivers chose this moment to leave their windows down and smoke, waiting anxiously yet habitually, as if the smell of cigarettes could somehow dispel the dark exhaust smoke.

Cullen rolled the window up tightly, silently resting his forehead against the glass;

in Luojia City, such a scene would be impossible to witness, for Luojia City was more like a leisurely small town, but York City, viewed from the outside, already differed little from the metropolises of later generations.

"Master, next time you go to work, how about I drive you to the platform first, and then accompany you on the tram?"

Cullen nodded.

"If it weren't for Alaye having to take his child to the doctor, he would have taken me to the second-hand car market today to buy a car to bring back. Master, you will need to approve a budget for me.

Ten thousand Riels would suffice to buy something similar to Alaye's car. There are actually cheaper ones, but they wouldn't be nearly as comfortable to ride in."

Cullen nodded once more.

"Thank you, Master."

One had to remember that back in Luojia City, Alfred was someone who drove a limited-edition Sunderland.

Traffic slowly restored itself bit by bit. Cullen, who had originally departed at half past eight in the morning, finally arrived at his destination at twenty minutes to eleven; this traffic jam was truly dreadful.

In the Maclay language, "York," aside from bearing the connotation of being busy, also meant "congestion," hence York City had earned itself the nickname "The Congested City."

Fortunately, a car happened to pull out from within the white lines by the roadside. Seeing his chance, Alfred swung the car in at maximum speed, seizing the parking space; otherwise, they would have had to search for underground parking or drive a long way around just to find a spot on the street.

Stepping out of the vehicle, Cullen stretched his neck.

He was currently standing beneath the "Santhore Building," and Piaget's clinic was located right inside.

But when Cullen turned around to look at the busy building across the street, his gaze narrowed slightly:

"The Curtis Building."

"Master, the Curtis Building is an old landmark of York City; many movies have been filmed there," Alfred introduced. "Oh, what a coincidence?"

During the traffic jam, Cullen had related the events of the previous night to Alfred.

"Master, do you need me to go into that building to investigate?"

"No need, just act as if we didn't see it."

Cullen currently had no reason whatsoever to involve himself in the matters of the remnants of the Light God Cult; although he had Rasma's guarantee allowing him to resume correspondence and contact with his family, it did not mean his identity could truly withstand the bright light of day.

"Let us head to the clinic first, I fear they will be leaving for lunch soon."

Cullen led Alfred into the Santhore Building. Piaget's clinic was on the twenty-first floor. After stepping into the elevator, Cullen stood in the corner while Alfred helped block out some space for him;

the elevator stopped and started all along the way, people flowing in and out,

and when combined with the memory of the traffic jam on the road,

Cullen truly felt a sudden return of the sensation from his working days before starting his own business in his past life.

It was a feeling akin to being a fish devoid of gills yet forced to swim perpetually beneath the surface of the water;

a small fraction of the fish mastered some form of artistic expression, allowing them to lead other fish to poke their heads above the surface and breathe a mouthful of fresh air;

which explained why many classic works of artists were created during their periods of poverty and mediocrity, because later on, having stayed ashore for too long, they had already forgotten the suffocating feeling beneath the water.

"Ding..."

The twenty-first floor had arrived.

Alfred helped Cullen squeeze past the people in front of them, leading him out of the elevator.

At the clinic's front desk stood two young, beautiful women dressed in professional attire;

"Hello, sir, may I ask if you have an appointment?"

Cullen replied:

"Please help me contact Mr. Adams. I was sent by his father to deliver something to him. My name is Cullen."

A well-intentioned lie could sometimes save a great deal of trouble, bypassing the phrases that might otherwise have appeared: 'I am sorry, sir, you cannot enter without an appointment'; as well as: 'I am a friend of Piaget, tell him to come out and see me.'

"Very well, sir."

The receptionist dialed the telephone, and after a brief moment, she smiled at Cullen and said:

"Our boss is currently in a meeting. Miss Bertha hopes you can wait in his office for a short while. I shall show you in."

Under the guidance of the receptionist, Cullen and Alfred entered the clinic. The interior was very quiet, yet one could perceive a sense of "busyness"; there were quite a few doctors inside, alongside "clients" waiting in queues.

The boss's office lay at the very end, and by the door sat the secretary's desk:

"Hello, are you Mr. Cullen? Please, step inside."

The secretary opened the door to the office, and Cullen walked in, while Alfred remained outside.

"Please have a seat. Would you prefer coffee or tea?"

"Ice water."

"Very well, it will be brought to you shortly."

Two sides of the office featured floor-to-ceiling windows, offering an excellent view from where one stood; Cullen could not resist walking over to the glass to admire it.

Once, he too had possessed a clinic of his own, but it lacked the scale of Piaget's, and he himself had never owned such a luxurious office.

Just then, the office door was pushed open:

"Hello, Mr. Cullen, here is your ice water."

It was a different female voice. Cullen turned around to look at the woman who had entered; she wore a black uniform, her hair was smooth and soft, and her entire demeanor appeared very natural;

most importantly, she bore a striking resemblance to Linda.

At this moment, she handed the water to Cullen and smiled, saying:

"Hello, Mr. Cullen, my name is Bertha, and I am Mr. Adams's personal assistant."

Cullen accepted the ice water and, looking at Bertha, could not help but smile.

"May I ask what you are smiling at?"

Cullen shook his head;

in his heart, he could only lament: 'You truly are a colorful character, Piaget, to actually play dress-up even within your own clinic.'

"Let me hang your coat up for you." Bertha walked up behind Cullen to help him remove his coat.

Because Cullen was holding the water glass in his hand, he could only raise his arms.

Yet during the process of undressing, Cullen was surprised to find that as Bertha helped unbutton the front of his garment, her fingertips intentionally twirled gently a few times against his chest.

Cullen could be absolutely certain that she did it on purpose;

following that, a wave of deep, chilling discomfort arose from the depths of his heart.

'Piaget, it seems you have played things a bit too far.'

As the sleeves were pulled off, Cullen switched the glass from his left hand to his right, and the coat was finally removed.

Bertha went over to hang the clothes up;

“Please, have a seat.”

Kallen sat down on the sofa.

Bertha naturally leaned in and sat right beside him, smoothing her uniform skirt as she crossed a pair of legs clad in black silk stockings.

“Could you tell me first why the old gentleman sent you here to see the boss?”

“I’m sorry, but I cannot.”

“Very well, no matter. You really are too polite.”

Bertha shifted the position of her legs once more.

Kallen averted his gaze. Back at Allen Manor, giving Eunice a foot massage had felt warm and comforting, but now, facing these legs, he felt an instinctive aversion, perhaps even… a slight wave of nausea.

He wished Bertha would leave immediately under the guise of nudging the boss, then quickly change her guise, after which Piaget would walk in, give him a normal embrace, talk things over, and finally let him stay to work here.

Thus, Kallen urged, “Could I trouble you to prompt Mr. Adams again? My business is quite urgent.”

Go on and change back into a man, my friend.

“The boss’s current meeting is very important—he is discussing development plans with investors, though it should be over shortly. Besides, Mr. Kallen, do you dislike me?”

“No, I am merely somewhat shy and introverted, not adept at conversing with young women, particularly beautiful ones like yourself.”

“No, that is not it. I also have a background in psychology, and your micro-expressions tell me that you reject me from the bottom of your heart. Could you tell me why? Is there something I did poorly that caused your distaste?”

Bertha rose and stood before Kallen. She did not, out of habit, pull back down the uniform skirt that had ridden up from sitting; instead, she generously opened her arms and leaned down;

Not only were the dark patterns at the very top of the stockings beneath her skirt revealed, but even the deep cleavage of her bosom was laid completely bare.

Kallen wanted to wash his eyes.

Oh, goodness, Piaget, have you even started stuffing your chest now?

“Or perhaps…” Miss Bertha asked quite bluntly, as though she were truly conducting serious research and ignoring the boundaries between man and woman, “your preference does not lie with women?”

As she spoke, she actively leaned closer to Kallen, resting both hands on his knees and crawling them upward inch by inch, highly provocative, as if to verify her own observations.

Kallen let out a sigh;

A split personality was by no means a cool thing to have; in fact, its hazards could be quite severe.

Because once a personality split off, it would not become your pet, at your beck and call;

From the moment it emerged, it would be like an infant, beginning to grow and enrich itself.

Do not assume that after losing your wife, splitting off a persona of her is a beautiful love story, because your wife's personality will gradually enrich and develop;

You might even quarrel because of it, your relationship could fracture, and in the end, your wife might even commit infidelity…

Of course, she would still be using your body to commit it.

Originally, Kallen believed that Piaget, as a professional, could exercise some degree of self-control, but now, he felt as though Piaget was losing himself.

As a friend,

He felt it necessary to awaken him,

Or,

Perhaps it really had to be as Alfred said after breakfast: “Oh, a poor wretch willing to pay a reasonable price.”

It seemed he was about to earn therapy fees from Piaget once again.

Kallen reached out with both hands and gripped Bertha by the wrists;

Pulled by this force, Bertha practically tumbled down right in front of him;

Kallen looked at her earnestly and said with gravity;

“Listen, I hope you can sober up right now, and I hope you know exactly what you are doing. I believe the true you will regret some of the words and actions just now;

So, now, please restore your sanity immediately, and then I can help you with a systematic treatment!”

“Mr. Kallen, do you have violent tendencies and enjoy engaging in private, extreme acts of violence?” Bertha seemed to see through Kallen's proclivity, wearing a scholar-like smile, “However, you truly are far too handsome. The moment I laid eyes on you, I couldn't help but want to be close to you. I promise you, I am willing to call myself out to treat you, and I will help treat you too. We can treat each other together, shall we?”

Just then, a knock sounded on the office door.

Kallen released his grip, and Bertha immediately straightened up, quickly smoothing her skirt and collar.

The door was pushed open, and the person who walked in turned out to be Piaget himself!

Seeing Kallen sitting on the sofa, he immediately opened his arms and strode forward with excitement:

“Kallen! When I heard the secretary’s report just now, I was still wondering if it was just a shared name. I never expected it to really be you! Hahaha, my good friend, it is so good to see you here!”

Piaget hugged Kallen directly, then smiled as he introduced her to Kallen:

“This is Bertha, my personal assistant.”

Bertha wore a professional and polite smile.

Piaget reached out to pat Kallen’s arm, saying:

“What do you think? I was startled myself when I first interviewed her. She looks so much like Linda, doesn't she?”

“……” Kallen.