Chapter 259 — A Miracle at the Psychiatric Hospital
"Click… crack."
The flint scraped against the striker, sending sparks flying. A small flame flickered to life.
Carlos inhaled deeply, then exhaled a long stream of smoke.
"Thanks."
He handed the lighter back.
"Keep it," Gideon said, not taking it.
Carlos shrugged and slipped the lighter into his pocket.
"You… work here?" he asked, gesturing toward the hospital behind them.
"No. I'm here looking for a job," Gideon replied, already having prepared an excuse.
"You know how it is these days—being a priest isn't easy. Every day you're balancing faith and livelihood. And if you have family responsibilities…"
He spread his hands with a helpless sigh.
Carlos froze mid-gesture, the cigarette hanging between his fingers.
Those words felt as though they were describing his own life.
Looking at Gideon—who seemed even younger than himself—Carlos couldn't help recalling his past.
After graduation he had immediately joined the Church.
For the sake of community religious work, he had been sent to a prestigious university to study psychology.
One degree after another followed—
a master's, then a doctorate in psychology.
It seems my luck has been far better than this man's…
The thought stirred a hint of sympathy in Carlos's heart.
"What position are you planning to apply for?" Carlos asked, bringing the cigarette back to his lips.
"Psychological counseling. I've always been interested in it," Gideon replied.
"What about you? The same?"
Carlos shook his head with a faint smile and explained everything—his resignation from the church, and his mother's hospitalization.
"She refuses to come home with me now. So I can only leave her here for the time being… until I find a job…"
Gideon placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"I can't fully understand your pain," he said gently, "but I believe your decision was the right one."
"Caring for an elderly parent who has difficulty moving is exhausting, yes. But it's also a rare opportunity to spend time together."
"As children, once we grow up, life pulls us in every direction. Work, responsibilities… before we realize it, we hardly have any time left for the people we love."
"I believe that decades from now, when you grow old, you'll be grateful that you made this choice."
Carlos stood there with the cigarette between his lips, momentarily stunned.
After a moment, his eyes reddened slightly. He blinked rapidly.
"You really are good at comforting people," Carlos said with a faint laugh, patting Gideon's shoulder.
"Compared to you, I'm far worse."
Gideon smiled.
"How about letting me see your mother? Maybe I can persuade her a little."
Carlos paused for a moment, then nodded.
"Why not?"
The two of them headed back into the hospital.
---
Inside the Ward
Using the Holy Sight, Gideon observed the patients around him.
Most of them showed signs of soul displacement, which was the true reason behind their mental abnormalities.
Meanwhile, the nurses moved busily among the patients—
Administering medication, cleaning rooms, calming disputes.
This was the daily routine of Manhattan State Psychiatric Hospital.
As a public hospital, treatment here was relatively cheap.
That was why many families of modest means chose to send their relatives here.
Over time, the hospital had become the largest psychiatric patient center in the area.
Especially during these difficult economic times, the number of "guests" seemed to grow rather than shrink.
Gideon followed Carlos all the way to the last bed in the ward.
After seeing Carlos's mother, Gideon quickly formed a plan.
Carlos had said earlier that his mother suffered from dementia caused by a vascular condition in her brain, which made normal communication difficult.
But Gideon possessed a soul-stage holy technique, allowing him to communicate directly with the soul itself.
In other words, he could bypass the limitations of the body entirely.
He sat beside the bed and gently took the old woman's hand.
"Don't touch me!" she shouted in her native dialect.
"Easy now, Mrs. Carlos," Gideon said softly. "I'm a friend of your son."
Through the ability Messenger of Sin, Gideon saw a faint gray aura surrounding her soul.
It was the manifestation of pain.
He immediately began to comfort her with carefully chosen words—speaking directly to the deepest part of her heart.
At first Carlos stood nearby, watching anxiously.
But after a short while, surprise flickered across his face.
His mother slowly turned over—
and suddenly gripped Gideon's hand tightly.
She spoke about how much she missed her son and how she wished she could live like a normal person again.
Carlos could hardly believe his eyes.
Ever since his father passed away, this was the first time he had seen his mother like this.
"Mr. Carlos has already decided to resign from his church duties, so we've come here to take you home," Gideon said with a gentle smile, beckoning Carlos closer.
Carlos hurried to the bedside.
"Oh… Dimi," she said, using Carlos's childhood nickname. "I'm so happy to see you."
Feeling his mother's hand brush against his face, tears streamed from the corners of Carlos's eyes.
"Mom… I'm here to take you home."
"Alright."
The two embraced tightly.
Gideon quietly released the old woman's hand.
Before long, her expression began to grow confused again.
Earlier, Gideon had used holy power to isolate her mind, allowing her soul to communicate directly with her son.
That was why she had remained lucid.
But it wasn't a true cure—
so the effect couldn't last long.
"Father Gideon, I truly don't know how to thank you. Your understanding of psychological comfort is remarkable," Carlos said, wiping his eyes.
Gideon nodded.
"Still, this situation can't go on forever. Your mother's illness will require proper medical treatment."
Carlos's expression dimmed.
"I know… but I don't have enough money. I can't afford the expensive treatment she needs."
Gideon sighed inwardly.
Medical care really was one of the great difficulties of life in America.
Then something occurred to him.
According to the timeline of the original story, Ms. Chris's daughter should already be possessed by the demon, Gideon thought.
He stood up.
"Father Carlos, you haven't paid today's medical fees yet, have you?"
"No. I was planning to settle them when we leave."
Gideon waved a hand.
"Perhaps the hospital will waive the fee."
Carlos looked puzzled.
Before he could ask more, Gideon had already walked over to a nurse.
"Need some help?" Gideon said with a smile, gently restraining a struggling patient.
The nurse quickly seized the chance to put the medicine into the patient's mouth.
"Oh, thank you so much, sir," she said, wiping the sweat from her forehead.
"Mr. Wells is the most troublesome patient here. Every time I have to give him medicine, it's a battle."
"What illness does he have?"
"Psychological trauma. Mr. Wells was in a car accident while traveling with his family. He was the only survivor."
"That's truly unfortunate."
"Yes… The hospital has been covering his treatment costs, but we can barely afford it anymore. When that day comes…" The nurse sighed.
"May I speak with Mr. Wells?" Gideon asked.
"I happen to work with community counseling at the church."
"You might be disappointed. Mr. Wells hasn't been capable of normal communication for years."
Gideon smiled faintly and sat down in front of the man anyway.
"Mr. Wells… these years must have been very painful for you."
At first, the nurse paid little attention.
After all, the hospital had tried many times before.
Even professional psychiatrists had failed—how could a priest succeed?
But gradually, she noticed something strange.
For the first time in years, Mr. Wells stopped struggling.
Instead, he stared quietly at the priest beside him.
Then something even more astonishing happened.
Two lines of tears slid down Mr. Wells's face.
And in his eyes appeared an emotion that had been gone for years—
clarity.
"This… this can't be possible," the nurse gasped.
"Am I hallucinating?"
Moments later, Mr. Wells stood up and gave the nurse a small nod, thanking her for taking care of him all these years.
At that point, the nurse completely lost her composure.
She knocked over a nearby medicine cart and ran out of the ward screaming.
Gideon watched her leave, then calmly helped the cart upright.
Just now, he had spoken directly with Mr. Wells's soul, untangling the emotional knot that had trapped him for years.
After patting Wells reassuringly on the shoulder, Gideon turned to the next patient.
---
Soon after
Hurried footsteps echoed through the hospital corridor.
The nurse returned—this time accompanied by several doctors in white coats.
"Dr. Bernas, it's right up ahead," she said to a middle-aged white man beside her.
The man was Andrew Bernas, the director of the state psychiatric hospital.
Earlier, Bernas had heard a report from his staff that a priest had cured a psychiatric patient and was now inside the ward.
At first, he assumed it was simply the church trying to recruit followers again.
Although Bernas's mother was a believer, he himself had little interest in religion.
But as more and more colleagues came to report the same thing, Bernas began to sense something was wrong.
When he arrived outside the ward in the southern wing, the corridor was already packed.
Nurses. Family members. Security guards.
Everyone crowded around the windows, whispering excitedly about what was happening inside.
Bernas frowned.
Psychiatric patients were emotionally unstable.
A crowd like this could easily provoke them into a dangerous episode.
"Please move aside."
After squeezing his way to the door, Bernas finally looked inside—
and froze.
The once chaotic ward had become orderly and calm.
Some patients were chatting together like old friends.
Others were on the telephone, excitedly speaking with family members.
A few were even helping other patients—guiding them toward a young man in a black priest's robe.
"What… exactly happened here?" Bernas muttered, feeling as if he were dreaming.
An elderly Black woman who had witnessed everything explained excitedly,
"It's a miracle! That priest healed them!"
"They can talk normally now! I just spoke with a woman whose illness is completely gone!"
Bernas frowned even more deeply.
Impossible.
With countless questions swirling in his mind, he pushed open the ward door.
---
Fragments of conversation drifted into his ears.
"I'm planning to go home this afternoon. I already contacted my daughter—she's so excited…"
"I've really thought things through this time…"
"You jerk! Last week when the nurse gave you medicine, you peed on my bed. Don't think I'll forget that…"
Bernas swallowed hard.
These patients looked no different from ordinary people.
He approached the priest.
At that moment, Gideon was speaking with another patient, while two other recovered patients helped restrain the man.
After a moment, Gideon shook his head.
"This gentleman's condition isn't caused by emotional trauma," he said calmly.
"I'm afraid I can't help him."
Then he turned toward Bernas.
"And you are…?"
Bernas introduced himself.
"Ah, Director Bernas," Gideon said, standing up and explaining what had happened.
During the time the nurse had gone to call the doctors, Gideon had spoken with every patient in the ward.
Using his soul-based holy techniques, he had acted like a plumber clearing blocked pipes, untangling the emotional knots buried deep in their hearts.
Most of the patients had simply developed mental disorders after severe external trauma.
For such cases, Gideon could guide their emotions and restore their souls to their proper alignment—allowing them to recover completely.
However, patients like Carlos's mother were different.
Even though Gideon could communicate with their souls, he could not fully heal their damaged bodies.
Even so, Bernas could barely hide the shock in his eyes.
He pinched his own arm hard.
The sharp pain confirmed he wasn't dreaming.
This young man had truly cured those patients.
No—
It was still too early to reach conclusions. Proper medical examinations were necessary.
Suppressing his excitement, Bernas immediately ordered the doctors to conduct full psychiatric evaluations.
After thorough and meticulous testing…
The results confirmed what he had feared—and hoped.
The patients were cured.
This completely shattered the scientific worldview Bernas had built over decades.
"Could… miracles truly exist?"
Regardless of the explanation, what happened today would surely be recorded in history.
---
"Director Bernas?"
After seeing several patients off, Gideon approached him again.
"Yes? Father Gideon, is there something I can help you with?"
Without realizing it, Bernas had already begun addressing him with respectful formality.
"This is my friend, Father Carlos. His mother suffers from dementia caused by vascular degeneration."
Gideon gestured toward Carlos.
"You know how it is—priests don't earn much. And with the economy as it is…"
Bernas immediately understood.
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Actually, there has been recent progress in Alzheimer's research. A new drug has completed Phase I clinical trials and will soon enter the next testing stage."
"Our state hospital has been selected to participate. We're currently recruiting patients."
"Father Carlos… would you be interested?"
In recent years, the number of patients at the state hospital had risen dramatically, placing immense pressure on its medical resources.
Gideon's actions had essentially solved a huge problem for Bernas.
Naturally, he was more than willing to help.
Besides, forming a connection with such an extraordinary priest was hardly a bad thing.
Carlos stood stunned for a moment.
He knew perfectly well that this opportunity had been created by Gideon.
Thinking of his bedridden mother—and his own financial struggles—
he agreed without hesitation.
Then he turned and bowed deeply to Gideon.
"Your help has saved my mother's life. I don't know how to thank you."
Gideon made the sign of the cross and smiled.
"Helping those in need is our duty, isn't it?"
Carlos wiped his eyes and nodded firmly.
"In that case," Bernas added with a smile, "please let your mother remain here. I'll arrange to move her to a private ward shortly."
Then he turned to Gideon.
"Do you have some time? I would like the psychiatrists in our hospital to learn from you. There are still many patients who could benefit…"
Gideon nodded.
"Of course."
---
Soon, the events at the state hospital spread throughout the surrounding area.
Numerous newspapers rushed to report the story.
At the same time, somewhere else in Manhattan—
A limousine stopped outside a private hospital.
Inside the car, a girl wearing a hat suddenly opened her eyes.
Beside her sat a woman with short pale-blonde hair—
a young Chris.
This was the third time Chris had brought her daughter to the hospital.
Recently, her daughter Regan had begun claiming that strange things were happening in their house.
At first, Chris hadn't taken it seriously. She thought her daughter simply wanted more attention.
After all, as a famous actress, Chris was constantly busy with work.
But gradually, she noticed that Regan had begun to change.
And Chris herself had started noticing strange things in the house….