Infinity: Our Zhongzhou team is really amazing!

Chapter 413 I can't tell the difference, I really can't tell the difference

Chapter 413 I can't tell the difference, I really can't tell the difference (5K, 22)

"You're having another episode."

"Are you still immersed in that terrifying world?!"

Where am I?

"Where am I?!"

The painter slowly uttered these words; his voice was completely hoarse, and even speaking was difficult for him.

"It seems you're awake now."

The dean took the initiative to untie the restraints binding the painter's hands and feet.

“Your episode last night terrified the new nurse.”

"Me? Having an episode?"

The painter felt a sharp pain in his head whenever he thought about it, as if a knife had been plunged directly into his brain.

No, it shouldn't be like this!

I am a painter, I am a king!
I've been hacked!

Has my ghost realm been suppressed?
The painter sat up, but then realized he was wearing a blue and white striped dress.

This is a hospital gown!?
Why is he wearing a hospital gown?
But at this moment, he searched his entire body and panicked completely.

The paintbrush is gone.

The drawing board is gone.

He lost all his supernatural powers and became an ordinary person.

An ordinary body can breathe, feel pain, and experience hunger.

Panic, fear, helplessness, confusion, and other emotions that shouldn't exist in him surged up.

He felt his stomach cramp and a strong urge to vomit.

But with the restraints removed, the painter had no time to think. He pushed the dean aside and stormed out.

His subconscious told him that something was wrong here and he had to leave!

"Stop!!"

Two burly men in black uniforms spotted him and immediately gave chase.

The painter ran wildly, the intense running he hadn't done in a long time causing his brain to briefly lack oxygen. He looked around and realized that this was indeed a hospital.

The nurse he knocked over, the rambling patient, and many family members who seemed to be visiting all stared at him with astonishment.

But no one stopped him.

Are these humans, or vengeful ghosts?

In the realm of ghosts, where would so many normal humans come from!

The painter's heart sank, but ahead lay the hospital gates. If he could just break through, he could escape!
boom!
The door was suddenly pushed open!

But everything outside stunned the painter.

It is not a misty, ghostly realm.

The weather was fine and sunny, with a few free-floating clouds in the azure sky, and a slightly busy street outside.

Further away is the skyline of a city, with skyscrapers and cars coming and going.

Pedestrians were horrified to see him rush out in a hospital gown.

“He’s mentally ill! The mentally ill person has escaped!” he screamed.

"Wait, where is this?!" the painter exclaimed.

But the next moment, a huge force pressed down on him, and two strong men behind him tackled him to the ground.

"Take him back to his ward quickly."

Fortunately, they only held him down and did not use violence; they simply dragged the painter out of the examination room.

Along the way, the painter saw almost the entire hospital.

The hospital had a nice environment, but it was strangely normal. It wasn't like a typical ghost town; there were no vengeful ghosts or spirits, and everyone seemed to be an ordinary person.

The painter now recalls that he must have been a king, a European demon tamer.

While his direct combat ability is not outstanding, he has become an anomaly by using a strange oil painting to house his consciousness. Combined with the powerful ghost domain of the oil painting, he is immortal in reality, and almost no one can threaten him.

Among the many demon tamers in the King's organization, fewer than five could defeat him head-on, and only the captain could suppress him with his demon domain.

So, how did I end up in this strange place?

The girl, the castle, and—

Just as the painter was about to recall, it felt as if a hand was violently grabbing his brain nerves, the piercing pain almost driving him to the brink of collapse.

The dean, wearing a white coat, said slowly, "Otto, have you had another episode?"

"I'm not sick at all!" the painter said instinctively, enduring the pain.

He was suddenly startled.

Otto was his name, but he completely lost it after becoming a Ghost Tamer.

He left his name on that eerie oil painting, and from then on, he could only be known to the public as a painter.

He couldn't tell anyone his name.

No one has ever been able to call him by his real name.

The old dean sighed and said, "You've fallen into a fantasy, Otto."

“Each time, you will construct a fantasy world in which you are a painter with unique abilities.”

"What!" Otto's heart almost skipped a beat, and he instinctively rushed forward to question the old man.

"what are you saying?"

Two tall men behind him grabbed him, preventing him from struggling.

Otto wanted to escape, but he couldn't escape at all. Without his supernatural powers, he was just an ordinary person.

"Otto Brechsch, 29 years old, from East Prussia, a graduate of the Vienna Academy of Fine Arts, loves art and is skilled in all kinds of paintings."

"But after you graduated, you encountered setbacks repeatedly. In your despair, you met the head of an art company by chance in a bar."

"You were bewitched by him and entrusted him with the exhibition of all your paintings, but you underestimated the potential of your paintings."

"Three months later, you found in the newspaper that the person had displayed your paintings under his own name and was hailed by the media as the Van Gogh of the new era."

The painter's breath hitched; this was his fate, his tragic past before becoming a demon tamer.

“You can’t accept that you found the person in charge, only to have your right hand, which was used for painting, broken during the argument,” the dean continued, while the painter’s face grew increasingly grim.

"You want to resort to the law, but your last savings have been swindled away by an unscrupulous lawyer."

"Your girlfriend of many years is diagnosed with a terminal illness, and you have to bow down to the plagiarist in exchange for some money, but she ultimately cannot be cured and leaves you."

"You've lost everything: reputation, money, ability, and love."

“You were desperate and even thought about suicide. It was at that moment that you found a Renaissance painting in your family’s storage room.”

"It is said that as long as you write your name on the painting, you can go to a perfect world and make up for all your regrets."

"So, you, whose painting was stolen by the plagiarist, also left your name on someone else's painting."

The dean began to speak slowly.

Otto grew increasingly panicked. What the dean was saying were his deepest secrets, top secrets unknown to any king!
A terrifying thought even surfaced in his mind.

"Otto."

The dean gestured for the two burly men to release the painter. He opened the door to one of the wards and stepped aside.

"Come and take a look, this is the ward where you've been staying for a year."

"Those experiences you imagine are all your fantasies."

“Your condition is very unstable. Sometimes you are manic, sometimes you cause a scene, and when you are lucid, you will describe to us a world where humans and ghosts coexist and the human world is like a prison.”

"You always say that in that world, you are a king who rules over mortals. You can not only hold art exhibitions as you please, but you also have a paintbrush that can kill people."

“That’s not a story, it’s not made up.” Without thinking, Otto blurted out these words.

“I don’t want to shatter the dream you’ve woven yourself, but living in a dream means you’ll be forever accompanied by pain, with no way out.” The dean sighed softly.

"Actually, you also understand that some things are fake. For example, after you became the so-called king, you had no purpose of your own. You just wanted to leave behind the best paintings."

"You're not that you don't understand, you've just been avoiding the question."

"If you don't believe me, you can look at what you've drawn!"

Otto staggered into the room, his eyes widening in surprise.

He saw that the walls of the room were covered with his own paintings.

The main character in all the line drawings is a painter wearing a beret, holding a canvas and paintbrush, but without a face.

For his first painting, he wrote his name on a bizarre oil painting, where an indescribable shadow composed of countless lines pulled him into the scene.

That shadow replaced him and killed his parents.

In the second painting, he painted another painting within the painting, creating another version of himself in reality and imprisoning the ghost.

The third painting depicts his rise from Prussia and Austria, his roaming of Eastern Europe, his refusal of the Knights of the Ages' invitation, his subsequent pursuit and expulsion by the Knights, and his subsequent life as a wanderer.

In the fourth painting, he met a missionary and joined the so-called King's Order, seeking revenge on the Knights of Favonius for imprisoning them in the painting.

In the fifth painting, the painter wears a king's hat and is gathered around a long table with many indistinct figures, the table littered with mangled pieces of flesh.

The sixth one…

The seventh one…

In the very last painting, he encounters a lovely assassin girl, imprisons her within the painting, only to be ambushed and killed by her. His heart sinks, and he screams in a shrill voice, "No way, no way, you're lying to me!"

He seemed to have discovered some clue, rushed over, grabbed the old man by the collar, and burst into wild laughter.

“Dean, Günter von Trein! You are German, and so am I!”

"But why is all the text here in English?!"

"You were definitely lying to me, and I found out, hahaha!"

"Otto!"

The dean slammed his hand on the wall, and the painter's laughter stopped abruptly.

"Do you know how much your parents sacrificed for your treatment?!" the hospital director said angrily.

Otto was stunned.

parents?

My parents died long ago, the moment I wrote my name on that eerie oil painting.

He slowly turned around and saw an elderly couple outside the ward, tears streaming down their faces.

The old woman sobbed, "Otto, my child, please don't hurt yourself."

"Dean von Trein, please, please save this poor child."

Otto stood up and screamed, "Impossible! You're all already dead!"

"The vengeful ghost that stepped out of that old oil painting, disguised himself as me, and killed you all!"

He covered his head, tears and snot streaming down his face.

Another image seemed to keep flashing through my mind.

Those memories that I've blocked out?
What is real, and what is fake?!

I can't tell them apart, I really can't tell them apart!!
"There are no ghosts in this world."

The dean calmly said, "It was all your imagination. It was another personality that killed your parents after you split your mind, the 'vengeful ghost' you mentioned."

"But he failed. Your parents didn't die, but you went completely insane. You couldn't distinguish between reality and fantasy, and eventually you became completely addicted to fantasy."

"Your parents had no choice but to send you to St. Elizabeth's Hospital in North America, just to save you!"

"Only our hospital has the technology to treat schizophrenia and paranoia!"

The dean pointed to the simple drawings on the wall and said seriously, "Take a look, these are all imagined scenarios."

“Look at your hands again. How many marks have you left in the process of constantly falling into hallucinations, suicide, and more hallucinations?”

The dean lifted his arm, and Otto's eyes widened, revealing a dense array of old scars.

“Each time, the ‘ghost’ personality will kill your newly formed personality. Sometimes it’s an ordinary person, sometimes it’s a ghost tamer, and sometimes it’s some other kind of ghost.”

“Every time you die, your normal personality will deteriorate. We have no choice but to use the most radical treatment methods to forcibly awaken your personality through death!”

"If you fall into this state again, you will never wake up!"

The dean's words struck Otto's heart like a heavy hammer.

Otto was silent for a moment, then asked slowly, "How many years have I been insane?"

"Two whole years," the dean sighed.

"Is that right?"

Otto was no longer sure; more "normal" memories flooded his mind: treatment in the hospital, taking medication, escaping, and self-harm.

Otto turned around, but his pupils shrank to a tiny dot.

His supernatural props were placed on the windowsill: a bone paintbrush, a colorful canvas, and an endless oilcloth.

Otto walked over and touched it carefully, but it didn't have that human skin-like feel; it was just an ordinary drawing board.

The dean pointed to the group photo on the windowsill: "Look at this, you've imagined everyone you've ever met as someone you'd encountered in another world."

That photo appears to be a group photo taken at the mental hospital last year.

The two burly bodyguards standing at the very edge, one of whom looked exactly like the captain, and the other somewhat like a butcher.

The very kind nurse looked just like an old woman, while the pastor who came to offer his condolences was a missionary.

Twins, cowboys, projectionists, plantation owners—everyone is there; they are all part of the mental hospital.

Otto turned his head in despair, but did not notice that the captain's eyes in the photo were slightly moving and looking at him, and that the whole photo was beginning to ripple with water, as if something was trying to seep out of the photo.

But the dean didn't even look at it, and simply pressed the group photo onto the windowsill, and all the strangeness disappeared immediately.

"Did I imagine them all as kings in my spiritual world?" Otto asked blankly.

The dean nodded: "Otto, over the past two years, you've been sometimes lucid and sometimes insane."

“Every time you wake up, we tell you this story.”

"But it won't be long before you become that painter who has lost his mind again."

"Remember, Otto!"

"You're not a painter, you're just an ordinary mental patient."

"Get well soon, your classmates and family are waiting for you."

"Take your medicine, Otto. Please don't hurt yourself anymore."

Otto's parents stood at the door, tears streaming down their faces, crying out, "Darling, we miss you so much."

"We'd like to go skiing in the Alps with you."

Otto suddenly remembered that he went skiing with his parents for the first time when he was 15.

He wrote down his birthday wish at that time.

It would be so nice to go skiing with my mom and dad every year on my birthday.

Otto looked at the black pills and a glass of water on the table, and walked over shakily.

"Mom and Dad, I will get better." He turned to look at his parents outside the door, tears streaming down his face.

Then, he swallowed the medicine in one gulp.

“That’s wonderful, child.”

Everyone laughed, a genuine laugh. Otto looked out the window; the sun was shining brightly.

Perhaps it won't be long before he is fully recovered and discharged from the hospital.

Thankfully, there are no ghosts in this world.

On the streets of Koizumi City.

Zhao Yingkong was panting heavily, utterly exhausted.

The painter opposite him lost his sparkle in his eyes and quickly transformed into a rotten, dilapidated oil painting.

Among them stood an old man dressed in Nazi clothing.

Zhao Yingkong manipulates Fontlein's ghostly abilities to pull the painter's consciousness into the world of the mental hospital.

However, Zhao Yingkong felt extremely tired at the moment, and even a little sleepy.

"wrong!"

As if realizing something, she ordered von Trein in the last second before falling unconscious: "Protect me!"

The next moment, Zhao Yingkong collapsed to the ground and fell asleep.

At the same time, a dozen or so terrifying figures appeared in front of von Träünen.

"He is... the dean?" A figure paused for a moment, then exclaimed in surprise.

Immediately, all the figures stopped in their tracks, not daring to take another step closer.

"he died?"

But none of them dared to step forward; they were terrified of the terrifying old man in his old Nazi uniform.

"Come out!!"

Zhuang Boshi has made his way through the Nightmare Castle, kicking down doors and setting fires wherever he sees them, constantly pacing back and forth.

But those who control ghosts refuse to come out, just like turtles.

"PhD."

He suddenly heard a soft gasp.

Zhuang Boshi immediately stopped and looked ahead warily.

An old door opened, and Zhao Yingkong walked forward stiffly like a puppet.

"Wait, Sakura!"

Zhuang Boshi shouted.

However, Zhao Yingkong did not respond.

Zhuang Boshi hurriedly chased after him, but after entering a door...

He suddenly realized that he was no longer in the Nightmare Castle.

Instead, they arrived at what appeared to be a tropical island.

He was standing on a dilapidated wooden boat with a crooked "empty" flag hanging on it.