Goblin Dependency

Chapter 965: Chapter 480: Secret Realm 2

"Doctor Mande, I’ve been hearing some sounds recently."

Perhaps feeling uncomfortable with the clean and tidy environment of the clinic, Old Mark sat up very straight, his hands on his knees, like a student in a classroom.

"What kind of sounds?"

Upon hearing this, Mande paused momentarily, his eyes showing a rare glimpse of interest, and he asked aloud.

"Um... I can’t quite describe it."

Having never been educated and mostly dealing with dead fish and seawater in his daily life, Old Mark certainly didn’t possess fluent expression skills and stammered his reply.

"It’s... it’s like a lot of people talking."

"Sometimes it’s men, sometimes women, with varying volumes."

"What are they saying?"

"I... I can’t hear clearly." As if he was speaking to himself, Old Mark’s tone became urgent, "But I know, they... they’re all talking about me!"

Mande sat opposite him, his expression unchanged, but his inner excitement grew. freeweɓnøvel.com

Having stayed in Hookfish Town for two years, his primary role as a "psychiatrist" seemed finally to have an opportunity to shine.

He exhibited immense patience, using a gentle tone that hadn’t appeared for a long time, as he asked:

"Aside from that, is there anything else?"

"There are... there are also some strange things." Old Mark looked hesitant, nervously glancing outside the window.

Mande followed his gaze but found nothing.

"They’re always nearby, like shadows, disappearing when my eyes turn, but others say they don’t see it."

"Later, I stopped moving my eyes and just stared straight ahead, watching with my peripheral vision, and they’re still there."

Hallucinations, auditory hallucinations.

Mande held a pen and wrote on the medical record.

"Have you recently experienced any stress? Insomnia? Changes in appetite?"

"I can’t sleep," Old Mark said, "At night, when it’s darkest, I always suddenly wake up."

"I... I don’t dare open my eyes..." The man’s expression suddenly became somewhat fearful, mixed with profound fatigue, "Because I know it’s standing at the bedside watching me."

That day, Mande and Old Mark talked a lot, and he prescribed several relatively inexpensive, affordable mild medications, agreeing to come back to the clinic in a few days for further diagnosis.

The symptoms he exhibited were varied—visual and auditory hallucinations, sleep disorders, paranoia... Even Mande found it difficult to determine the specific type of illness.

And this reignited Mande’s enthusiasm.

After work, he casually grabbed some dog food for "March," letting it play in the backyard, then returned to his study early to find those psychology books he had brought from the city, searching for potential corresponding illnesses.

Three days later, at two in the morning.

When he closed the last book, his notebook was already densely filled with symptom analyses and differential diagnoses.

But the conclusion section remained blank.

Mande stood up and walked to the window.

Gazing at the window was a young and weary, bearded face, yet his eyes were so spirited, as if a mysterious light flickered within.

This light he hadn’t seen in a long time, the last time was when he graduated with honors from the Royal Medical College.

A brand new case.

An unrecorded, unnamed mental illness.

If he could fully document the course of the illness, propose reasonable etiological hypotheses, or even find a treatment method... his name "Mande" would appear in medical journals, on the academy’s wall of fame, and in his mentor’s mouth.

Mande turned around, gazing at the desk full of notes and books, suddenly feeling that the small town he was in now seemed not as unbearable.

"Rustle..."

Suddenly, a faint sound reached his ears, and his peripheral vision seemed to catch a fleeting shadow.

He abruptly turned to look out the window.

But what met his eyes was only a profound, dark abyss.

Perhaps it was the wind rustling the tree branches, or a mischievous wild cat.

Just thinking he was overly tired these few days and not enough rest, he didn’t pay too much attention.

Mande returned to the bedroom, lay on the bed, harboring fantasies of a bright future, and drifted into a pleasant dream.

...

Of course, not all residents of Hookfish Town were that psychologically healthy to the extent that he, as someone from a "mental discipline" background, had seen few cases in the two years here.

In fact, according to the theories Mande had studied, contemporary medical circles generally believe that, even those who appear optimistic and sunny outwardly might possess deep-seated mental issues, although they vary in severity.

Unlike those living in big cities—well-to-do and well-educated nobles who, under the Doctor Association’s advocacy, gradually become aware of the dangers of mental illness.

Ordinary residents of Hookfish Town don’t even know what "mental illness" truly signifies.

Even if Mande tried hard to advocate, those wearing patched hemp clothes and worrying about rent certainly wouldn’t spend valuable rest time consulting at his clinic over insomnia, excessive overthinking, or constant low spirits and loss of interest, let alone buying medication.

In such a situation, the various symptoms found in Old Mark and the potential for a new mental illness undoubtedly excited Mande, who longed to leave this town and realize his grand ambitions.

As long as he could become an Official Member of the Doctor Association, everything he desired would come one by one.

In the ensuing weeks, Mande felt the hope and brightness he had never experienced since being assigned to Hookfish Town.

As if every moment was fueled with vigor.

He even stopped caring about his image, his beard covered his chin completely. During the day, while attending patients, he communicated with Old Mark, recording in detail the sounds, shadows, and the feeling of being watched in the medical record without any omissions;

Returning home at night, locking March in the yard, he would organize the day’s records alone in the study, reference those books brought from the city, and work until the early hours.

And as his communication with Old Mark deepened, he became increasingly aware of Old Mark’s feelings.

"They dislike light, like how you might hate a particular smell—not causing physical harm, just a natural aversion."

"Those shadows always appear when one is exhausted, around three in the morning, as I mentioned before, even closing my eyes, I’d see things writhing in the dark."

"Initially, it was only when I was alone that I could feel those strange sounds and shadows, but now they appear more and more frequently."

"I’m sorry, no offense, but Mr. Mande, there’s one standing right behind you now."