Chapter 36 Chapter 35

It's a pity I didn't go back to the psychiatric clinic and try to kill that inexplicable psychiatrist. The method he used to fix me must be a kind of hypnosis. In retrospect, little strange things happened every time in that clinic, but I didn't take it seriously.In fact, the psychiatrist has been silently showing me his special way of controlling time... no, it is controlling my "time in consciousness". That method must also include interrupting my sense of time at any time, that is, cutting off my consciousness! Paradoxically, the psychiatrist had endless time to kill me, and he didn't.

Not only did he let me walk out of the clinic safely, watch movies that I would never be interested in, eat my usual favorite burger, but also let me stand on the street at this moment and think about everything he did to me. fear.Never before has such a strong sense of fear hit my whole body that even the tips of my toes are numb. When was I hypnotized?There is no trace at all. ...when he brought me scented tea?As he dipped the first sugar cube into his coffee?Did he make any special gestures or play some music?Or as soon as I stepped into the clinic?Or did I get the hint when I "first signed up" until now?

If I can't solve this puzzle, no matter how many times I go back to this clinic, I won't be able to kill that doctor. Putting aside the idea of ​​whether I can kill him, if I want to go back to the clinic and ask the doctor what happened between me and him before, why he wants to take away my memory but not kill me, I will do it less than. Heck I'm absolutely disgusted that I'm confronting someone who used to know "me from a previous life".I can't do it for a second.In this world, there should not be another person who understands myself better than me.When I think about it, the psychiatrist knew who I was from the moment I stepped into the clinic "for the first time", that feeling was so sharp that it stabbed into my stomach and made me nauseous.

Why the hell is that bastard trying to destroy my previous memory! Why would you rather destroy my previous memories than just kill me?Why when I met him again because of an accident in an accident, he let me come to him again and again to talk nonsense without pointing out anything?In the eyes of that bastard, I must be stupid as hell!He must be laughing at me crazily in his heart!Damn it, damn it, damn it, I finally know why that bastard always has a strange expression that is not a smile, he treats me like a cheap toy that he can control! I'll call Brother Liu Zheng right away. "Brother Liu Zheng, I want to kill someone." I tried my best to keep my voice from shaking.

"It looks like your caller ID is not in South Korea. Did you go to Taiwan again?" "I want to kill, right away, right away. I need to wake up." "It seems that your condition is not good. Do you want to come back and talk to me? Well, this is also the job of the agent." "...It's fine if you can't help." I hung up the phone resolutely and called my agent, Mrs. Pipe, in Taiwan. "Pipe, I want to kill." "What a coincidence, I just placed an order. I'll contact you again when I have a chance." "Just now? There must be other orders, anyone can."

"The world is peaceful recently, Huoyu." "What about you? Is there anyone you just want to kill?" "Hey, what's the matter with you? Don't keep thinking about these fights and killings. If you have time, you might as well find someone—" I hung up the phone before Mrs. Pipe had finished her nonsense. Then Mr. Funai and Matchhead in Japan didn’t have any need to kill people, which made me very irritable. I went to the convenience store and bought a bunch of beer to sit on the side of the road and drink, trying to let the cold alcohol and bubbles dilute the bad things in my head.

I remember that Matchhead told me several times that killing people is very abnormal after all. Some killers are not mentally normal after doing it. A very small number of killers will gradually degenerate into low-level serial killers, and then collapse from then on. . I don't want to be that kind of scum.I am professional.I am needed.I myself don't need killing to relieve my troubles.I just want to cheer myself up.I am definitely not a murderer. I am a killer. Still, I didn't spend a second thinking about the only list in my head. Heck, only an idiot would actually take the psychiatrist who stole my memory and kill those gangsters on the Thai-Myanmar border that I don't give a shit about.Why do I make him happy? Why do I make him happy? Why do I make him happy? Why do I make him happy? Why do I make him happy? Why do I make him happy? Why do I make him happy? Why do I make him happy? Why make him happy?

When my feet were piled up with deflated beer cans, the weak but accumulating alcohol finally temporarily numb some unspeakable desire. I moved my precarious body and hailed a taxi back to the hotel. Before entering the room, my sixth sense smelled exciting smells. ...Very well, I went to the door by myself.