Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

"...The most important thing is to have empathy for the patient. They are normal people just like us. It's just a little bit different, I'm against calling them crazy, they're just sick. And we It's a doctor."

On the podium, the teacher is talking eloquently.

He Shenyan appeared in a classroom. He looked around and saw that the seats were full and full of people. But all but one girl's faces were blurred.

The blond girl sat in the corner of the classroom. She was wearing a wide, ill-fitting dress, all black, and even the blond hair was tucked into her hat. As if she wanted to disappear from this world, she tried her best not to attract any attention.

She is writing notes.

The speed was very fast, and every word the teacher said was memorized by her.

The screen changes again.

After graduating, she walked out of school with her belongings, standing on the street very lost. Staying at home, a phone call changed her life. It was an employment notice from the school. Her grades were too good, so she was recommended to Arkham Asylum for an internship. The salary is high, and for her, there is no other option.

So Harlene Quetzel, who had completed her doctorate at the age of twenty-two, entered Arkham Asylum as a psychiatrist.

When He Shenyan saw her walking through the dark corridors of Arkham wearing a white coat, the prisoners in the cells would deliberately whistle or even say some nasty and disgusting words when they saw her passing by. Not only did the guards not stop them, but they also cast that disgusting look at Harleen with them.

She had to hold the information in her arms tightly and walked faster and faster until she reached the innermost end of the corridor and pushed open the door. A green-haired, pale-skinned man sat in the darkness, staring at her.

At first glance, it made her heart pound.

His pupil is just a small dot, and there is nothing in it, just nothingness. He sat there calmly, even though Harleen had pulled up the chair and sat across from him. Harleen couldn't guess what he was thinking. The so-called psychological techniques were useless, only from his expression, it could be seen that he was thinking about something now.

He was clearly looking at Harleen, but the girl had an intuition that he wasn't looking at herself, but something else—something dangerous, deadly, yet attractive.

"Hello... uh, I'm your primary physician, Harleen Quetzel. Joker... sir? Are you listening?" Harlene asked nervously, swallowing.

The man nodded expressionlessly.

"Okay, I'm going to ask you a few questions that you can choose to answer. Let me know right away if you feel uncomfortable, okay?" She tried to follow the rules and regulations to inform him of those matters. The man suddenly smiled.

His face was terrifying, and it was only then that Harlem realized that he was pale without makeup. It was as if it was born like this, the pale color seemed to absorb all the light around him, he wiped a handful of his green hair and laughed.

"Discomfort? What is discomfort, doctor, I don't understand what you mean." He asked politely, his voice not as crazy as Harleen thought, but a choice between grace and screaming , which sounds both like the clamor of dying people and like some poet whispering in your ear.

"If my question makes you feel...offended, or you don't want to answer, you can tell me." She put it another way, which made the man laugh even more.

"You're such a funny girl, aren't you? Doctor, look, I'm the most dangerous criminal here. And you came up to me and told you if I was offended! Ha!" he exclaimed A sharp laugh.

"The bat that locked me in wanted to beat me to death. It took me four months to recover from lying in the hospital bed. Look!" He pointed to his right cheek, where there was a dent.

He said, "This is a gift from him, what a nice man, isn't it? I got punched and lost three teeth. What a strong man, ahhahahaha..." He clutched face, and smiled lowly again.

For some reason, Harleen followed him and laughed.

The man suddenly put down his hand, the smile disappeared, and he became expressionless again: "Let's start, doctor."

Harleen was a little uncomfortable with how quickly he changed, but she still forced herself to adapt to being a doctor. "Have you recently felt a strong desire to hurt others?" she asked.

The man stared straight at her: "Which one do you mean?"

Without waiting for Harleen to answer, he continued to speak to himself: "Doctor, every day, every moment, every minute, every second, even if I'm talking to you now... I want to hurt others. But the question is, how do you define which is which?"

"Look, there are many ways to hurt people. For example, if I want to hurt the police officer at the door, I will send a message to my lads outside. Let them tie up his family, and then tie him up. Then he His family killed him in front of him. But what's the fun in doing that?"

Undeterred by the horrific sight he described, Harlene asked calmly, "Fun? Do you mean you get pleasure from hurting people?"

The man said patiently: "No no no~www.novelmt.com~ my good doctor. You misunderstood me, Uncle Clown is not such a shallow person. What's the point of hurting others? It's interesting to hurt the world! Yes, I I could do a hundred horrific and horrific cases, and I could keep a cloud over Gotham forever, but that's not my ultimate goal..."

He raised his right hand and held up two fingers: "People usually think that there are two forms of injury. Physical, mental."

"But I think there's a third form." He held up a third finger.

"Physically hurt, you'll bleed, you'll break bones. You'll be in pain all the time. Mental hurt, and you'll slump through every bad night on medication. But there's a third form. .."

He pointed to his face and laughed wildly: "Look at me! Doctor! Look at me, I'm the third form!"

"I'm bleeding and hurting all the time. But I'm also mentally battered all the time! Double the joy, doctor, that's the third form. There's a limit to what a human being can endure! But—I !"

His smile disappeared abruptly, and his face became expressionless again: "I can release them."