Charles's pupils shrank to pinpoints. He jerked backward, pressing himself against the wall as though trying to disappear into it. His jaw trembled uncontrollably and he began to babble.
"It's him… that face again… the devil's come back!"
His voice cracked into something like a desperate sob.
"Why… why did you come looking for me again…? I already know I was wrong…!"
"Charles!" Vanessa rushed forward and rapped urgently on the glass. "Look at me, Mr. Charles! Look at me!"
But Charles only grew more agitated. He clutched his head, screaming incoherently, terror carved into his pale face.
"Charles, calm down!" Russell shouted. "There's no devil here! Look at us—we won't hurt you!"
"The devil is here! He's here! He's come to kill me!"
[Charles's fear — Malice Points +200]
Russell silently accepted the notification and stared through the glass at the man curled in the corner like a frightened bird. He let out a helpless sigh.
Charlotte frowned, glanced at the uncontrollable Charles, then at the two numbers in her notebook, and sighed in irritation.
"Just a little more…" she muttered.
"Dr. Vanessa, please take him to the sedation room."
"Understood." Vanessa pressed the emergency button on the wall without hesitation.
Moments later, several burly male nurses arrived, efficiently subdued the thrashing Charles, administered a sedative, and carried him out.
When the door closed, only Charlotte, Russell, and a weary, helpless Vanessa remained.
"I'm sorry, both of you," Vanessa said, rubbing her temples.
"We're the ones who should apologize, Doctor," Russell said with a bitter smile. "We've caused you trouble."
"This is simply our duty. There's no problem at all." Vanessa shook her head and smiled faintly. "I just didn't expect such a violent reaction. He was fine until the name came up."
The three of them fell into thoughtful silence.
"I remember his attitude only began to waver when 'Bilson' was mentioned," Vanessa said, glancing at Russell. "When Mr. Watson tried to help Charles recall the past, his consciousness remained open and receptive. Even painful memories—his discharge from the army, the struggle to survive—only brought regret and some pain. But the moment the name 'Bilson' appeared, his emotions collapsed."
"During his stay here we ran several stress tests," Vanessa continued. "Smoke, masks, banks… those were the main triggers we identified. We focused desensitization therapy on them. I never expected 'Bilson' to be a blind spot."
Charlotte understood at once. "So you didn't anticipate this reaction to the name."
"No," Vanessa admitted helplessly. "I never imagined it would turn out like this."
She pushed her glasses up, clearly troubled.
"But… doesn't it seem strange?" she said. "Logically, Bilson was the one who brought Charles into the group when he had nowhere else to go. He gave him recognition and hope when Charles was at his lowest. If they had been of opposite sexes, I wouldn't be surprised if Charles had developed feelings for him. Emotionally and logically, Charles shouldn't harbor such intense negative emotions toward Bilson…"
Vanessa seemed to think of something but left it unsaid.
"Except for what?" Charlotte asked.
"It's nothing important, Mr. Holmes." Vanessa shook her head.
Charlotte frowned but didn't press further.
"So how long will the treatment take?" Russell asked, changing the subject.
"One month, perhaps. But it's too early to say," Vanessa replied. "We must prepare for the worst. His brain's defense mechanisms have clearly activated. His condition this time is far more severe than before. We need to stabilize him first, then resume desensitization. The whole process will take considerable time."
"It's all right. We can wait," Charlotte said.
"I hope so." Vanessa smiled, then glanced at the clock. "It's almost lunchtime. Would you like to eat something before you leave? Our cafeteria food is quite good and very healthy."
Charlotte stayed silent and looked at Russell, leaving the decision to him.
Russell thought for a moment, then nodded. "Since we've come this far and have nothing else scheduled today, we might as well try it."
"In that case, please follow me." Vanessa smiled warmly.
The sanatorium cafeteria was far cleaner and brighter than Russell had expected. Floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the space with midday sunlight. A few calmer patients sat quietly among the staff. According to Vanessa, Charles had occasionally eaten here before stressful sessions.
It was a buffet—limited variety, but the ingredients were fresh and the seasoning light, designed with patients' health in mind.
"The environment here is much better than Imperial College London," Russell remarked, plate in hand.
"After all, the fees are higher than Imperial College London's," Vanessa laughed.
Charlotte said nothing. She chose her food and took a seat by the window. Russell joined her opposite. Vanessa wisely excused herself and returned to her colleagues.
Russell took a bite of grilled chicken breast and raised an eyebrow. "Not bad. I'm almost envious of the patients here."
"If you're interested, I can ask Mycroft to help with the paperwork so you can stay here permanently," Charlotte said, glancing at him.
"Then forget it." Russell shrugged and steered the conversation back. "So, what did you think of today's findings?"
…