Chapter 381: Chapter 323: The Swindler’s Psychological Therapy
At Gospel Time 6 a.m. in the Vatican Mura Second Layer City of Senheiser District, Igula, hidden inside the closet, opened his eyes.
He pushed the closet door open and saw a bulging human shape on the bed, which was the “Igula statue” he had crafted with pillows, blankets, clothes, and a bit of imagination.
Though it wasn’t a Technique Spirit nor a Miracle, this little trick had saved his life multiple times. Had he left a note saying “Good evening” on the bed, it would have deceived all the midnight invaders into thinking that the Swindler had foreseen their arrival and had already escaped through unknown means. After cursing under their breath, they would hurriedly trace Igula’s escape route, while Igula hidden elsewhere could take the chance to flee.
After all, Igula was only a Swindler, not All-Knowing and All-Powerful, how could he possibly foresee all dangers? But that didn’t stop him from playing the role of “the man with all the answers” in his daily interactions, and a bit more caution and preparation usually planted seeds in others’ minds.
What truly turned falsehood into truth wasn’t the Swindler’s words but your own imagination.
Interpreting the world is everyone’s instinct; when you lack information, you unconsciously fill gaps with your imagination, which is why conspiracy theories thrive and rumors spread faster than truth.
People always believe what they want to believe.
Even though the world itself is objective, everyone’s world is subjective. Former Spirit Mages could even establish religions, making themselves the “God” in the subjective worlds of countless believers.
Although Igula had little interest in the awakened profession of being a higher-ranking Swindler, simply making himself appear to certain people as “the fantasy-smart character who can always foresee your next move” was as easy for him as putting on makeup.
On his first night in this unfamiliar city, Igula started to prepare. When others discovered the “Igula statue” on the bed, they’d think the real Igula had already left, never realizing that this was a trap set every night. The weak, immobile, unsuspecting Swindler was hiding right beside them in the closet.
This was the deceit technique of the Spirit Mage.
Despite giving it his all, he always had to appear effortless.
Gifts prepared painstakingly must also be given nonchalantly.
In this world, whoever has the seed planted in them first, loses.
As usual, Igula had to take a bath after waking up every day, fortunate that the suite had a bathtub, and it was even a steam massage bathtub.
In fact, the quality of this suite was way better than the staff dormitory provided by Hanna. It seems like Miss Hanna was indeed a rich heiress who once her ventures failed, could only return to inherit her millions–a plot quite common in Gospel films and dramas, Igula thought. The root cause was the underdeveloped luxury economy and consumerism in the Kingdom of Gospel, where parents could still save money.
In his Kingdom of Blood Moon, capitalists could end up living paycheck to paycheck, with just any life-extension package from the research institutes enough to bankrupt a tycoon. The Kingdom of Gospel still lacked enough freedom.
After a preliminary wash, Igula tested the water temperature in the bathtub with the tips of his toes, submerged his lower legs, bent his knees to maintain balance, until the waterline brushed past his chest, intimately grazing his collarbone.
Warm currents seeped through his pores into his cells, quickly relaxing his stiff body hidden in the closet all night, his tightly strung spirit also began to slacken, the lazy steam massaging the Swindler’s aching brain.
Most people in the Kingdom of Blood Moon had mental health issues, and Igula was no exception. As a bright person, he felt the heavy gravitational pull of reality the most, his soul constantly crushed, nearly always in a state of anxiety.
Igula knew he was ill, but he couldn’t heal himself; the more proficient one was in swimming, the more likely they were to drown in the Deep Sea.
Eventually, he might suddenly decipher “the meaning of Life” on a rainy, cloudy day, dress in his finest clothes, meet everyone who knew him, deceive them one last time–erase their memories of him–and once the world knew him no more, Igula Bokin would completely vanish from people’s sight, only the Void Realm retaining his residual image.
However, being destined to walk towards demise alone, entering prison instead fostered his habit of soaking in the bath to clear his mind, thereby resting the tight strings, and even curing his mental illness.
It was Shattered Lake Prison that saved him. The only way out for Blood Moonians truly was going to prison.
Worth mentioning is that before soaking in the tub with Ash and Harvey some days ago, Igula always took a bath first, as being together with two hoofed animals did not serve the purpose of relaxation.
Just as Igula was about to willingly enter a stupor, some idiot knocked on the door.
This familiar triple knock, although the person hadn’t dropped their pants yet, the Swindler already knew what nonsense they were about to spout.
Igula decided to use silence to make the other party give up, but after a few seconds, he heard the sound of precise gears turning, the metallic blocks releasing their bites–the door opened.
The bathroom glass door swung open, and the steam eagerly wrapped around the guest.
“You scared me, I thought you had escaped through the toilet.”
Igula let out a long sigh, “First, this isn’t our home; second, how did you get to my side?”