Abduction(6)

However, no matter how thoroughly I searched, I couldn’t find anything that looked like a camera. Eventually, I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

Doing nothing allowed the creeping fear to return. Without a clock, I had no idea what time it was. That uncertainty was one of the things that could drive a person mad.

If I considered the time when Noel brought the food as late morning, it must have been around lunchtime now, a couple of hours later.

‘Don’t be anxious.’

Obsessiveness pushes a person’s mind to the brink. I tried to think as positively as I could. The fact that there was no clock in the room indicated that they wanted to isolate me and create confusion in my mind.

I feared that in this state of having no one to lean on, I might crumble under the softness and sweetness that Noel offered. Human minds were incredibly fragile.

Being a psychiatrist didn’t mean I could control a fragile mind perfectly. I could only grasp the emotional state flowing through my mind faster than the average person. I was more susceptible to emotions than others. I concluded that it would be better for my current state if I didn’t think too deeply.

Desperately trying to keep track of the time, or trembling in fear of what Cane might do, was not good for my mental health. I forced myself to try to sleep. I closed my eyes and started counting – one, two, three.

Sleep didn’t come. But counting helped to calm my mind a little. Imagining that I was a clock, I pictured the second hand ticking away as I counted silently in my head.

The numbers surpassed 100, then 1,000. After counting to 1,000, I reset back to 1 and counted again to 1,000. I had always had impressive endurance. When I was studying for my doctorate abroad, there were many times I would sleep only four hours and then spend the entire day at my desk studying.

As I finished counting to 1,000, I took a moment to think about Theo, Noel, and Cane. I revisited the basic medical knowledge I had learned at the Academy and the thick textbooks I had pored over while writing my thesis and considered how I should respond to Cane’s presence.

I consider myself a competent doctor. No, I thought I was a competent doctor.

But that was a delusion that Noel had just helped me realize a few minutes ago.

Theo is a special case among multiple personality disorder patients. The personalities were fully aware of each other, so there was no need to confirm the existence of other identities to the body’s owner. Moreover, there were no anxiety symptoms or behavioral issues typically seen in dissociative disorders, which made the effects of hypnotherapy minimal.

They just enjoyed playing with me. During consultations and treatments, I often found myself caught up in Theo’s jokes, resulting in laughter that seemed to say I was powerless to intervene.

The root cause of Theo’s dissociative disorder appeared to be tied to the death of his mother. While he hadn’t experienced direct abuse himself, he had witnessed the severe psychological abuse and violence she endured throughout her life. Young Theo grew up in that environment, which deeply affected him.

Theo was a legitimate nobleman from a prestigious family, and his father loved him above all else. His mother’s situation, however, was an exception. Although Theo seemed to take it in stride, a sense of guilt and pain festered deep within him.

The death of his mother became an event where the wounds in his heart were expressed in extreme ways.

As I continued to count, I mentally flipped through Theo’s medical records. Each page only deepened my sense of despair. Theo always seemed to be playing a game above me. After we parted ways, while I wrote a letter of recommendation for Dr. Leoton, I felt a profound sense of apology toward him. No matter how renowned Dr. Leoton was in the field of neuroscience, working with Theo would undoubtedly pose a challenge.

The realization that I had only discovered the cause of Theo’s condition because he had allowed it to happen hit me suddenly. Sitting in the small room, organizing my thoughts as I counted, this truth became clearer and clearer.

Theo kept toying with me until the very end. Now that I was facing reality, I questioned whether he had been taking the medication I had prescribed.

‘What a bastard.’

I cursed Theo, but even that didn’t ease my frustration, prompting me to mutter several more expletives.

Time passed, and I noticed that Noel had come in and out of the room a couple of times. I turned my back to him, deliberately ignoring his presence. He didn’t try to engage me in conversation as he cleared away the barely touched food and brought in new dishes.

I dozed off briefly, only to wake up again, lost in my thoughts. A throbbing headache settled in. I had no desire to eat, feeling it would be pointless. Yet, I still hoped my mind could somehow find a solution to this situation.

“Why aren’t you eating?”

Noel asked, sounding reproachful as he entered, likely having returned for dinner. I stubbornly kept my back turned, refusing to respond.

“If you don’t eat, Cane will get upset.”

His tone was infuriating—soft and soothing as if he were trying to comfort a child. It twisted my insides. But getting angry would only hurt me more. I had already laid bare my feelings in a moment of vulnerability; that was enough for now.

I slowly lifted my body and sat up on the bed. The chains clinked softly with my movements.

Without looking at Noel, I coldly said.

“I need a book.”

“A book?” he replied, somewhat surprised.

“You told me to say what I need. I’m tired of just staring at the walls all day.”

“That makes sense… You’ve always enjoyed reading, so passing the time with a book would be a good idea.”

“—-”

“Which book would you like me to bring? Dr. Leoton’s? Or one of your own?”

I sighed. It was clear they were playing with me. I couldn’t help feeling that Noel hadn’t brought up the psychiatric textbook with the best of intentions. I wouldn’t be the doctor to casually read a textbook on dissociative disorders in front of a patient.

“Fiction. And I need a pen, too.”

Noel chuckled softly as if he found it amusing. His low, sweet laugh filled the room. I stubbornly avoided looking at him, trying to emphasize my hurt feelings. I didn’t know how long he would ignore my feelings, but at least the Noel I knew would eventually make an effort to soothe them.

I felt a wave of despair wash over me as I realized how far I had fallen. The version of Noel I thought I knew was nothing but a facade, now exposed as a lie.

“Eat something.” he said softly before leaving the room.

***

The moment of truth was approaching.

It was a summons.

I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when I was kidnapped, but if I assumed at least a day had passed since I lost consciousness, it meant I had been trapped for two days. Two days was a long time to endure.

I glared at the chamber pot shoved in the corner of the room, feeling a mix of disgust and urgency.

‘The term “yuui” also has other meanings. It refers to a specific acupuncture point located below the fourth and fifth lumbar vertebrae, used to treat uterine bleeding, neuralgia, and muscle spasms…’.

I desperately tried to think of something else, but the need to urinate was overwhelming.

‘Damn it!’

I cursed under my breath and endured for a few more minutes. Even though I hadn’t intentionally drunk any water, my bladder felt uncomfortably full.

In the end, I had no choice but to make a decision. I didn’t want to get wet in my white shorts, especially as I wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Nervously, I grabbed the chamber pot and moved as far away from the door as possible, finding a corner between the bed and the wall.

Suddenly, I began to doubt the intentions behind this choice of hiding spot. Why had the bed been positioned away from the wall? Was it possible they anticipated I might need to relieve myself in here? This rational suspicion only added to my growing sense of discomfort.

With a grimace, I settled onto the chamber pot. My hands trembled as I pulled down my shorts, feeling a mix of shame and irritation swirl in my mind.

Having held it in for so long, the moment I got into position, the stream burst forth. The sound of the stream hitting the chamber pot was jarring and I squeezed my eyes shut, reciting boring medical terms to distract myself.

It took reciting seven words before the stream finally stopped.

Fortunately, I found some toilet paper and a towel in a small drawer under the table, so I cleaned up as best I could.

What luck?!

As I wiped up the few drops that had fallen on the floor, my face turned red with embarrassment and my frustration boiled over.

Having thoroughly cleaned and tidied up, I pulled up my shorts. Carrying the chamber pot, I went to the sink and emptied its contents. I tried my best to remain calm, but the more I faced reality, the more depressed I became. I was already mentally exhausted.

I washed the chamber pot clean inside and out and put it back in the corner.

‘Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.’

I suddenly felt a surge of anxiety and attempted to hypnotize myself into calmness. However, the more I tried, the more pronounced my worries became in my mind.

‘…What am I supposed to do about my bowel movements?’

Was it Cane’s intention for me to lose my mind in shame, stress, and worry?

He had mentioned instincts: sleep drive, appetite, and s*xual desire.

There was another instinct that Cane hadn’t mentioned: the urge to excrete. It’s an inseparable part of being human. Instinct can be quite crude and intimate. The thought of having to deal with my most unclean aspects made me feel nauseous.

Managing it myself was one thing.

The real problem arose when I couldn’t handle my shame.

‘I’ll kill you, Theo Blaine.’

The more I imagined the worst-case scenarios, the more my anger rose. I gritted my teeth and cursed Theo under my breath.