Strongest Maniac: Born in an Asylum

The orderlies were wary of the two patients in room 666.

The scenes from the past were still vivid in their minds.

"Are they asleep?" the chief asked.

"Asleep."

The chief took a deep breath. The upcoming conversation would be very complicated and would involve a lot of knowledge.

For example:

How to communicate with mental patients!

Professional terminology for mental patients!

The encyclopedia of a mental patient's psychology!

At this moment, Leo and Walter sat up and looked at each other. "We're very tired. We want to sleep. What's the matter? We're so tired."

They said they were tired, but they both looked very energetic.

The grease on their mouths shone in the light.

The chief asked, "What were you doing just now?"

Leo said, "Sleeping."

Walter said, "Sleeping."

"Chief, they're not asleep. I can swear, it was really scary just now. He was holding a head in his hand, and he was holding a leg in his hand. They must have eaten someone," Leon said, not believing it. It's all a lie. They're lying. I really saw it.

The chief frowned. Refuting a mental patient's words was not a wise choice.

"Leon, it's an illusion. It's all an illusion," the chief said, patting Leon on the shoulder comfortingly.

The chief observed the situation in the room. The light bulb had been taken down, and there were scorch marks on the ceiling. He knew Leon wasn't lying. Something had definitely happened here.

I know, but I'm just not going to say it.

He took a step forward, a very careful step. Creak! He stepped on something. He slowly looked down and saw that he had stepped on a bone. But it didn't look like a bone. It looked like the tooth of some kind of creature.

He had just been thinking of having a deep conversation with the two patients, but now he honestly took a step back.

How should he handle this?

He could only say it wasn't simple.

He went outside, took out his cell phone, and called the director.

Ring, ring!

After a few rings, the phone connected.

"Director, are you asleep?"

"If you're not asleep, please come to room 666."

"If you are asleep, please come anyway."

"That's right, I can't solve it. Yes, we're all waiting here."

After calling the director, the chief stood at the door and waited.

"The director will be here soon."

Director Hess lived at the mental asylum.

He had just washed his face, was listening to some sad music, and was about to go to bed when a phone call woke him up again.

Not long after, Director Hess arrived with a serious expression. His white hair told the story of what he had been through in recent years. In the prime of his life, he had become an old man. His work and rest schedule had been disrupted. It would be a miracle if he still had black hair. (fifty-something is the prime of life, we're still children)

Room 666 was a miracle of the mental asylum, and also the most dangerous ward.

Ordinary people couldn't communicate with them at all.

Only he, the director, could handle them. And sometimes it was still dangerous. He had to be careful.

"Director."

"Director."

Director Hess nodded, then looked at the chief. "What's the situation?"

The chief whispered in the director's ear, telling him everything that had happened. Then he pointed to the canine bones lying quietly on the floor.

Director Hess went into the room, picked up the bone from the floor, and rubbed it with his fingers. He could confirm that it was a canine tooth, but not from an ordinary dog. The tooth was a bit thick and very sharp.

He put the fang in his pocket and walked to the middle of the beds.

Although he was close, he kept a safe distance.

"What are you doing?"

Director Hess's tone was well-controlled. He spoke softly and slowly, not rushed, talking slowly, creating what he thought was a safe atmosphere for them.

"Sleeping."

"Sleeping."

Leo and Walter said in unison.

Eating meat?

That's impossible.

Director Hess had expected this answer. He smelled the scent of meat in the room, like dog meat. He remembered the fang in his pocket and already had an idea.

"Oh, sleeping."

Director Hess smiled. He saw the light bulb on the floor, the scorch marks on the ceiling, and the grease on their mouths.

These were all details.

Director Hess, with his absolute professional standards, had already constructed a picture of what had just happened in his mind.

In fact, he was a little in disbelief.

He didn't expect them to have cooked food with electricity.

It was very similar to his unpublished research.

Among mental patients, many had an intelligence higher than that of ordinary humans.

If their intelligence is so high, why did they become mental patients?

Because there are many people with low intelligence, and few with high IQ. They are outnumbered. Their behavior is deemed to be contrary to common sense by people with low intelligence, so they are called mentally ill.

He didn't want to publish this research.

Because he was also afraid.

Director Hess noticed that Leo's crotch was glowing. He took a deep breath, extended his hand, and said with a serious expression, "Hand it over."

Leo said calmly, "I didn't take it."

Director Hess didn't say anything, just pointed at Leo's crotch.

Leo looked down at his crotch.

"It's glowing."

"Yes, give it to me."

Leo opened his crotch, took out the flashlight, and handed it to Director Hess.

Director Hess's heart was as still as water, without any ripples. Last time it was a hammer, this time it was a flashlight. To a patient, these were all dangerous things.

You never knew what they would use them for.

But you just had to believe that in their hands, even a nail clipper was dangerous.

The sound of an ambulance could be heard outside.

Wee-woo! Wee-woo! Wee-woo!

Director Hess had someone install the light bulb in the room. He glanced at the light bulb. It seemed this place would have to be sealed off too.

"Be good and go to sleep."

"Yeah!"

Leo and Walter lay down, covered themselves with the blanket, and snored.

The crowd left the room and closed the door.

The sound of two stretcher wheels rolling came, and several people in white coats rushed over.

"Where's the injured person?"

No need to say, no need to ask.

Asking was just a habit.

"You called the ambulance, you figure out how to solve it," Director Hess said, patting the chief on the shoulder and turning to leave.

The chief looked at the director's back, his mouth open, wanting to say something, but not knowing how.

"Where's the patient? You can't just make a false call. This is a legal responsibility," the doctor said, seeing that the other party still hadn't told them where the patient was. He was anxious. Are you playing with us?

The chief looked around at his colleagues, then pointed at Leon and said, "He's the patient. He needs to go to the hospital for a check-up."

"Chief, I'm not sick," Leon said, his face a mask of death.

The doctor waved his hand, and several colleagues grabbed Leon. "Whether you're sick or not is not up to us. Go to the hospital for a check-up, and we'll know if you have a problem."

"I'm not sick! I'm not going to the hospital! I'm really not sick!"

Leon struggled, roaring, about to go crazy. What could be wrong with me? You guys are going too far!

The doctor asked the chief, "Is he really sick?"

The chief thought for a moment and said firmly, "Yes."

"Alright, you're a professional from a mental asylum. If you say he's sick, then he's sick," the doctor said.

Soon, the doctors pushed the stretcher away.

"I'm not sick!"

"Let me go…"

"I'm really not sick!"

As time went on, the sound of the ambulance disappeared from the mental asylum.

Faintly, a tragic cry could still be heard.

I'm not sick…

Perhaps this is also an illusion.