Chapitre 3121: Chapter 2271: Late Autumn in the Golden City (24)_1
"Is that how you really feel, professor?" Pamela asked, suddenly, "Is this your actual opinion? Or is this a typical application of psychology?"
"It could be both. Most people usually don't care much when they feel something. They don't remember it, nor are they good at expressing it. Psychology helps me to do better than them in these aspects. Still, you can't call this deception."
"Refined honesty."
"Very right, Miss." Shiller leaned forward and moved the kettle further away on the bedside table, pouring a glass of warm water for Pamela while rearranging his suit before settling back into his chair.
"Given that keeping warm is your priority now, I will not open the door. However, I will start recording our conversation for psychological counseling purposes."
Pamela neither agreed nor disagreed. She usually behaved in this manner. Shiller had just briefly reflected that Pamela hardly showed any emotion. Most of her expressions were mundane and pale, as plain as paper.
She could even conceal all the charm brought by her gorgeous features and vibrant red long hair with her indifferent expressions, not leaning towards any gender, and anyone who met her gaze could feel her absolute boredom.
While Shiller didn't exactly approve of categorizing real people based on certain comic-book characters, Pamela's image seemed a far cry from Poison Ivy's.
The Poison Ivy of comics is not known for her social charm, but Batman once complimented her beauty and seductiveness, which indicates at least she is vivacious.
There isn't much recorded about Poison Ivy's younger days in the comic books. For most part, she made her appearance as a beautiful yet deadly and fervent plant conservationist. This overpowering image obscured any personal charm she might possess, leaving readers knowing little about her past or her journey to maturity.
Clearly, Shiller has been presented with another puzzle. This one is equally challenging because, compared to Batman, Poison Ivy, or Pamela Isley's character, is relatively one-dimensional.
Reality is not a comic strip, there must be reasons why Pamela ended up like this and what she will become. The causes are far less known than Batman's famous orphan story. To perform a thorough psychological analysis, Shiller needs far more critical information.
However, Pamela's current state makes it hard for Shiller to judge whether it's appropriate to begin psychotherapy. She maintains the same demeanor and temperament whether she's happy or suffering, making it hard for Shiller to determine when it's time to stop.
If there's a possibility of inflicting additional harm, then Shiller would rather not initiate treatment. After all, Pamela isn't just a subject for academic research, she is his student, and practically essential for Shiller's garden.
"I think I can tell you my story," Pamela spoke up first. "You can then analyze what it all means. When the rain stops, I can help you in the garden."
"That sounds good, but I don't want you to push yourself," Shiller flipped a page of his book, then added, "Even when it stops raining, you are welcome to take a nap here. Plants are much more resilient than you might think."
"Yes, a storm is never a catastrophe to them. Tomorrow morning, you'll understand their thriving grace even amidst destruction in the eyes of humans," Pamela responded.
"You'll feel the same, Miss. Perhaps things will be different tomorrow morning."
Pamela responded indifferently, devoid of any facial expression or emotion. This gave Shiller the impression of facing a black box. He was unable to determine his messages' feedback, prompting more caution in his approach.
"My parents are dead. They upset some people, fled from Gotham, but still couldn't escape their enemies," Pamela began. However, her attitude didn't look like that of storytelling, nor were her words elaborate.
"My parents were murdered in our recently-purchased house. I was sent to an orphanage, where a woman named Soma, of Indian heritage, chose me. She brought me back to her home."
"She had a big house yet seemed to have little money. I came to know about her multiple daughters from the various photographs on the table, but none of the photos had more than two faces. This suggested they weren't a family."
"She required me to learn a lot of things, such as pronouncing standard English, French, and Italian, dancing, and playing the piano. I was quite adept. She enrolled me into a prestigious local secondary school and instructed me to widely publicize my story among my classmates and grade."
"What sort of story?"
"A story of an orphanous girl adopted by an Indian noble family. My father worked abroad in India, and my mother in the United States raised her children, providing a luxurious family condition and good upbringing."
"Did you fulfill this?"
"Yes, many bought it because I did know a lot, and they perceived my temperament to resemble a well-bred aristocrat."
Shiller nodded his head slightly; he comprehended why this would be the scenario. Pamela effused a natural air of pride, a quality only people with solid confidence usually possess.
Classmates might have mistaken her arrogance for a rich snob looking down on the poor, but in reality, Pamela was treating everyone equally with indifference.
"There were those who pursued me," Pamela continued, "Two in our class, and more than ten in our grade. I told my foster mother about this, and the next day she had all their background information."
"She eliminated those deemed inappropriate and only left three. She asked me to maintain romantic relationships with all of them at the same time."
"So how many did you choose?"
"None," Pamela blinked as she said, "I agreed to their confessions. I did everything according to my foster mother's instructions, accepted their offers for dinner dates, dressed up, received their flowers, had dinners together, and after approximately a month, they all left angrily."
"Did they know you had multiple boyfriends?"
"They didn't know, my foster mother scheduled everything and cleverly avoided their contact. They probably don't know till now."
"So what do you think was the reason?"
"They claimed I was aloof."
"Do you think you were?"
"I've always been this way."
After a moment's reflection, Shiller recalled his experiences with Pamela. She always looked distracted, her attention never focused yet also never resting somewhere to be discerned.
If an ordinary person were to act like this, they would certainly be accused of being dismissive - an accusation that stings more than accusations of incompetence.
"This pattern kept repeating itself," Pamela continued. "My foster mother selected them, and I approached them. They departed in anger, and I returned home to be scolded."
"Until?"
"Until I was almost of age and she had yet to find a decent candidate. Or rather, she had found them, but I ruined every chance."
"She adopted some measures?"
"Yes, she thought the lack of personality could be compensated with sex. She thought if a beautiful woman's charm can't come at a good price, perhaps the body can."
"Did she force you into prostitution?"
"Not forced, I didn't mind. If she told me to go, I did."
Now, this startled Shiller a bit. He looked at Pamela and inquired, "Did she try to instill any moral principle into you?"
"Maybe she did, but I didn't pay attention. In fact, I don't care, even till now," Pamela slightly inclined her head and replied, "I had physical contact with several candidates picked by my foster mother. When they touched me, I felt a bit puzzled."
"Doubting what?"
"I don't understand why they're so excited."
"I apologize, Miss. I didn't mean any offense." Shiller leaned back, trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and Pamela. "This question is purely academic, not idle gossip."
"I understand, ask away."
"Have you ever felt attracted to someone due to hormones?"
"I don't know what that means."
"Physical and psychological arousal?"
"I don't think so."
"Attracted to the opposite sex instinctually?"
"No."
"Same sex?"
Pamela shook her head again.
"Alright, carry on."
"The turning point of the story happened just as we were beginning." Pamela recalled, "We walked into a room, he wanted me to undress. As I was about to, a woman stormed in, his wife."
"I don't know what happened. Screams, roars, growls, tugs. I heard a bang, then the sound began to fade. I smelt the wet dew and the scent of flowers. When I came to my senses, I found…"
"Found what?" Shiller leaned forward, looking at Pamela and asked.
Pamela hesitated unusually.
"What I'm about to say is entirely academic," Pamela licked her lips, "I am not sexually harassing you."
"Yes, I understand, miss, please continue."
"Firstly, I found that I was aroused. "
"And…?"
"They were both dead."
In the moment of exchange between Shiller and Pamela, both were frozen.
Shiller's expression slowly changed.
"Forgive me if I can't give you the details, I don't remember," Pamela swallowed, obviously recognizing this late-arriving Shiller as the man who had cooked the reindeer meat.
"My memory stops at when the woman charged at us. When I came to, there was blood everywhere and two bodies."
"Was there blood on your hands?"
"No." Pamela shook her head, "But I was kneeling between them, so there was blood on my legs and the hem of my skirt."
"And then?"
"My mother came in," Pamela inhaled deeply," I made a bold decision."
"You knocked her out, pinned their deaths on her and reported her abuse towards you. Two bodies, one criminal, and you got off scot-free."
Pamela slowly nodded.
"Impressive, miss. "
"Actually, it's not the first time," Pamela inhaled deeply, "It seems, this isn't the first time."
"'Seems'?"
"In my memory, right before my parents hurriedly moved us away, I had another memory lapse."
"Where?"
"At home." Pamela frowned slightly, "Someone broke in, I saw him, there's a break in the memory, then it's just my parents moving us away."
"Alright, look into my eyes, miss."
Shiller stood up, headed slightly to the front of Pamela. He bent over sideways. Pamela gathered her courage, looked up and met his gaze.
Shiller's eyes focused momentarily but quickly went slack. He furrowed his brow.
"Am I a born killer?" Pamela asked. She looked at the silhouette of Shiller who went past the bed and stood by the window and said, "Just like you, excited and fulfilled by it?"
"You're not."
Shiller gave an answer that shocked Pamela.
"Why?" Pamela couldn't help but ask.
During her time with Shiller, she had come to understand some things about this circle. Cold, contemptuous, homicidal, exhilarated - these are the typical emotional traits of a serial killer.
She had even psychologically prepared herself for it.
"You're not," Shiller repeated, as he turned around, the window behind him casting a cold light on him.
Pamela saw those grey eyes of his, glowing faintly in the darkness of the backlight, like a beast in a cave, she heard Shiller's echoes in the room.
"You're not...because we don't forget."
Cadeaux
-- Cadeau
reçu État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone