"I am a doctor, not God," said Shiller, shaking his glass of wine. "My expertise lies in analysis, not treatment. Even the most adept persona at treatment requires the cooperation of the patient. Even if you don't cooperate at all, you should at least give the doctor enough time."
Alberto looked up at Shiller's expression, and Shiller looked back at him. After a moment of silence, Shiller said, "No, you don't owe me anything. You know better than I do. Evans would never have let me eliminate you. You were his brother."
"But you could have gone against his wishes."
"I would not," Shiller looked at Alberto and said seriously. "You stand from the perspective of someone who came afterward, and weigh whether I should see you as an unstable element and, therefore, even if Evans did not want to kill you, I should arrange an accident."
"It would indeed be simple for me. Evans trusted me somewhat, and I could've eliminated you, who was unstable at the time, by simply proposing to give him treatment."
"But I wouldn't do that. Such interference is meaningless." Shiller looked into Alberto's eyes and said; "And you're now thinking that if I had done that back then, Evans would not be at risk of disappearing."
"Unfortunately, the world doesn't work that way. It's not that if someone chose a different route in the past, everything would turn out all right now. It's more likely that there are more severe consequences down that road."
"I can assure you that your existence was one of Evan's main supports. You delayed his process of weakening. Without you, he might have had a break down sooner."
Alberto suddenly picked up his glass and took a swig of the straight drink, which stung so much he inhaled sharply. But afterwards, he seemed to relax.
"That's good news," he said.
Shiller studied him and said, "Do you think I'm just trying to comfort you? Actually, I'm not."
"It seems that to notably distinguish himself from you, Evan's personality is almost the complete opposite of yours. You should be aware that such a personality cannot become a godfather."
"The old Godfather was eager to find an heir. Evans was not up to the task, but if he failed, it wouldn't just lead to the decline of the Falcone Family. Both the old Godfather and he himself would be in danger."
"To save both himself and his father, Evan has to step up even if he's incapable. Do you understand how much pressure this puts him under? Even a normal person might collapse under such extreme circumstances."
"Your emergence saved him. From a sociological perspective, you allowed him to avoid the responsibilities he was unwilling and unable to shoulder. From a psychological perspective, the return of the dominant personality shared a great part of the mental pressure — when you were in control of his body, he was resting, which reduced his energy expenditure and prolonged his life."
"Professor, this is the first time I appreciate your level of expertise," Alberto said.
"And?"
"The reputation is well-deserved."
"Actually, this is not psychotherapy," Shiller smiled, "I'm merely informing you of a fact you might not know. But next, we'll have to discuss something more realistic."
"I can't do psychotherapy," Alberto frowned, emphasizing, "I can't regularly go to the psychologist."
"Because you're a godfather, I completely understand," Shiller nodded; "You're not just a leader, but also a symbol and cultural icon. You need to appear strong, without any defects, and even if there are, you can't let them show."
"This is completely against human nature, but since the pattern doesn't change, you will have to stick it out as long as possible. I have to assert that the stability of your condition is a fundamental guarantee to the city's order."
"It soon won't be," Alberto sighed; "The Twelve Families are in decline. Savvy people have already started to launder their dirty money by investing it in legitimate businesses."
"I've heard about it. Harvey said there have been more and more company registrations and cases of shareholder disputes. Most of them are familiar faces."
"I don't know whether we'll be able to transition smoothly or not. Maybe the best outcome for me is to return to Italy and let Evans take up singing."
"And if he can't let go of this place, then he should return to Gotham University as a researcher, he can always come back." Shiller looked at Alberto seriously.
Alberto seemed a little more relaxed. He looked at Shiller and said, "Thank you, Professor. Can I consider this a promise?"
"Of course, he's my student, at the least I can ensure his safety."
Alberto remained silent for a long time, then seemed to make a vital decision. He took another swig of the strong drink, and his sharp eyebrows hardened even more.
Shiller knew what he was thinking.
The responsibility of leading the Twelve families does not afford Alberto the time or the possibility to see a psychologist when he is having mental issues like any normal person would. He can't break down, he must always appear strong.
And now, Evans is facing a serious issue. His personality is unstable, there is the possibility it might fade away.
But in that extreme situation back then, only Evans chose Alberto. Had Evans shown any signs of fear or discontent, the old godfather and Shiller would have definitely chosen to eliminate Alberto's personality, but he didn't.
So, Alberto can't accept the disappearance of Evans. And the only solution is to come here for treatment, which requires time. For some time, at the very least, he must concentrate on this task.
This obviously presents a conflict—is he to choose the Twelve Families, or Evans?
This seems like a difficult decision, but for Alberto, it doesn't require a second thought. To him, the Twelve Families are nothing but the godfather's dogs, while Evans is his brother.
The order of Gotham's mob has been eroded to its limit. The new direction of Gotham's development leaves the mob with several restrictions on what they can do. Smart mob bosses began transitioning early to fill the void in the market.
Shiller looked at the expression on Alberto's face. He understood the mob order would not last much longer.
And Shiller decided to give it a push.
He glanced at his watch, stood up and walked towards the wall, saying, "This is the first time I'm hosting a banquet of such a large scale, with many guests showing up early just like you, hence I'm afraid I won't be able to chat with you for too long."
"Rodrix Manor is quite small and doesn't have many reception rooms, so I'm thinking of asking the butler to take you to my office to wait for a while, is that alright?"
Alberto perceived an unusual hint in his words, hence without lingering any longer, he stood up taking his wine glass, and soon Merkel was ushered in by a call from Shiller.
"Take Mr. Falcone to my office."
Merkel was about to say that the room hadn't been tidied up yet, but took a look at Shiller's expression and swallowed the words he was about to say, leading Alberto away in silence.
Alberto quickly arrived at Shiller's office, which was very tidy, hence the desk covered with a pile of letters stood out conspicuously.
"Apologies, the desk has been used by my master not too long ago so it hasn't been tidied up yet." Merkel perceptively said, "He didn't arrange this, hence you are free to look around. I have other matters to see to but will be back soon."
"Please do as you wish."
Merkel exited swiftly. After he had left, Alberto walked to the back of Shiller's desk, staring at the pile of replies. He quickly found some familiar names, mostly carrying surnames of the Twelve Families.
Alberto pulled out all the letters with such last names and then realized that their times of arrival were nearly identical. But this was understandable, as most of the mob bosses' manors were located in the North District, almost the same distance from here.
As per Gotham's banquet rules, very few VIP guests require a one-on-one reception by the host. Mostly, a group of guests arrive, the host comes out to say a few words, and then goes back in to wait for the next set.
So, it's necessary for people from the same circle to arrive together, as it's easier to find one's place. If one were to clash with people from another circle, it's quite possible to be overlooked.
As his hand clutching the edge of the letter stopped, a dangerous thought crossed Alberto's mind. The next second he realized, this was exactly why Shiller had directed him here.
Alberto hurriedly went to the telephone across the office, saying to the person on the other end, "Cobblepot, have the next motorcade arrive 20 minutes earlier."
Cobblepot's voice came over the phone, sounding slightly puzzled, "But we've already written in the replies that…"
"I've already given the Professor a heads-up."
"Understood, Your Excellency, your lady will be with you shortly."
Alberto let out a sigh, his fingertips icy cold, his chest burning hot.
Not far from the reception room, Lex stood in the corridor. He couldn't hear what was being said inside the room, but Merkel's departure gave him an understanding that something unplanned had occurred.
Lex made a bold decision, made his way directly towards the reception room, and knocked on the door.
The surprise to his knocking audible from the room's reaction occurring after a slight delay.
"Come in." Shiller said in a deep voice.
The door opened, Lex walked in, and this time truly noticed the shock on Shiller's face.
But he was not surprised. Normally, he would be waiting patiently in the previous room for the banquet to begin.
Previously, Lex would do just that, because it was deemed a more cautious and calculated move. Even if he wanted to take a risk, he wouldn't go so far as to leave the previous floor due to the risk of getting his clothes in disarray, or being deemed impolite for intruding without permission.
Moreover, Lex knew through Merkel's reminder that the reception room was being used. Even individuals with blood ties refrained from eavesdropping during critical discussions, with the apt individuals steering well clear of such scenarios.
But Lex believed that he could slightly magnify the influence of emotions in his decision-making. He wasn't one of those lunatics, his emotions were normal, certainly usable whenever he desired.
"What is it?" Shiller asked, looking at him.
Lex let out a breath, lowered his eyes and said, "Nothing much, I'm just a little nervous."
Shiller walked over, shut the door, and stood beside Lex, guiding his hand along his back towards his seat.
Shiller didn't ask why, nor did he react as if this was absurd, he simply accompanied Lex to a seat and asked, "Would alcohol help you feel a bit better?"
Lex noted the whisky in Shiller's glass, shook his head and said, "I can't have hard liquor before the banquet, as alcohol might make me do something impulsive."
"So, stay here for a while?"
"With you?"
"Of course."
As Shiller sat down, his gaze still fixed on Lex. He was about to say something when Merkel knocked on the door and walked in, an incredulous expression on his face as he said.
"Sir, there's an unexpected visitor, she's waiting in the master bedroom."
Shiller's eyebrows furrowed slightly.
Lex's ears perked up at this.