Dragon Raja 4; Chapter 113: Fun at the Mental Hospital (2)

Dragon Raja 4

“Is this something that can be trained?” Nono asked quietly.

“You mean he’s been crazy since childhood, not just recently?” Finger jumped in before the expert could respond.

“I asked earlier about his childhood traumas because I suspect that if someone develops the habit of using only one hemisphere at a time, it might stem from early training. But without undergoing corpus callosotomy, how would he develop such a complex brain function? Was it a reaction to some kind of stimulus, or was he deliberately trained to do this? For someone like him, if his corpus callosum were ever fully connected, the mental overload could turn him into a dangerous monster.”

“Then we’ll keep him under observation,” Nono finally decided after a moment of thought. “Notify us immediately if anything changes.”

“Observation requires the family’s consent. Do you have contact information for his family?” the expert asked. “We’ll also need permission for certain compulsory measures.”

“I’m his family. I’ll sign,” Nono said coldly.

“And what’s your relationship?”

“I’m his sister,” Nono replied with a slight frown.

“I can tell you’re close, but hospital policy requires signatures from direct family members. Normally, we’d need a household registry. You said you have foreign passports, but your surname is Park and his is Lu. How can you be siblings with different last names?”

Nono paused for a moment, then grabbed the doctor’s shoulder and stared into his eyes. “Doctor, just help me out here… just consider me his sister, okay?”

For a moment, the expert softened. He considered letting it slide. The proud, beautiful girl who had been so strong and silent now looked utterly exhausted. Her voice was low, almost pleading, and though her gaze was level, it felt as if she had bowed her head.

“This kind of signature carries legal responsibility,” the expert sighed, still refusing. “You should notify his real family.”

“Who says we don’t have the proper documents?” Finger interrupted, pulling out a document and slapping it on the table. “Take a look! A notarized certificate from Saint Kitts and Nevis. They’re officially siblings!”

The expert examined the document carefully, his face twitching. “This certificate is obviously fake… it says you’re their father.”

“The certificate is real, and that’s all that matters! Don’t push me! I’ve got their marriage certificate too, if you want to see it!” Finger smirked as he signed, “Observation is approved—by their father!”

Lu Mingfei lay on a hospital bed, strapped into a canvas restraint jacket, stiff as a board. In the darkness, three figures sat around the bed, whispering.

“Young man, you’re still in your prime, yet you’ve ended up in a place like this. What did you do for a living before you got here?”

“Uncle Three-Wheeler, I haven’t graduated yet. Fifth year in college, majoring in the slaughter of large biological entities.”

“Is that any way to address him? We call him Your Majesty! Brother Lu has the features of a dragon. Even a blind man could tell!”

“Spare me the flattery. Even if you said I’m some great emperor, I can’t pay you.”

“Comrade, you’ve got to hang in there! They’re going to torture you soon! Whips snapping, strapping you to a chair, dripping wax on you! They won’t let you go until you give up the secret code!”

“Station Chief, I think your idea of torture comes from some weird movie.”

The hospital room housed four people, all patients. Patient A was a chubby middle-aged man who pedaled a tricycle for a living. After his son’s wedding, his family kicked him out, triggering his breakdown, and the community sent him here. Patient B, known as the “Immortal,” was an elderly fortune-teller with a long beard. He claimed to be healthy and said he was wandering the earth in search of a hidden dragon—finding one would make him the next Zhuge Liang or Liu Bowen. Patient C, nicknamed “Station Chief,” was a former government official suffering from dementia. He often fantasized about living in a 1949 prison, believing himself to be an indomitable underground communist being tortured by the Nationalists day and night.

As an experienced patient, Lu Mingfei quickly became chummy with his three fellow patients, even though they often spoke in nonsensical ways. Surprisingly, he fit right in, as if he had come home.

Suddenly, a nurse with a round, apple-like face burst into the room, carrying a tray with a tranquilizer injection. Instantly, the three patients darted back to their beds, lying down obediently, as if competing to see who could be the most well-behaved. In this place, the nurse was both feared and revered—a leader and a goddess to the patients.

While the nurse prepared the injection, Lu Mingfei asked if he could switch rooms—not because he disliked his fellow patients, but because they talked too much, and he was finding it hard to keep up.

The nurse looked at him and replied, “You seem to speak quite logically, but often those who are seriously ill don’t show it on the outside. I won’t be fooled by your sweet talk.”

Lu Mingfei chuckled, “You’re giving me too much credit! Even when I was fully functional, I couldn’t win over a girl with words. Now all I have left is my face and fingers—how useful could sweet talk be?”

The patients opened their eyes again. The middle-aged tricycle driver said, “Don’t say that, nephew! We men rely on our faces to make it in the world!”

The fortune-teller chimed in, “Young man, you’ve got a romantic aura about you. Don’t belittle yourself. Dragons play among phoenixes; it’s normal for a true dragon to have many lovers!”

But the station chief warned, “Be careful! They’re using a honey trap on you! The Nationalists always send beautiful spies to give you shots!”

“Sleep time! Anyone not asleep will be dragged out for a shot!” the nurse yelled.

The room immediately quieted down. The shadows of trees swayed outside the window as the patients—spanning three generations—slept peacefully, like children napping in a kindergarten.

“This is the best room we have,” the nurse said. “Look how harmonious they are.”

“But they each live in completely different worlds. I have to use three different kinds of logic to talk to them,” Lu Mingfei sighed.

“And who lives in the same world as anyone else? Do you live in the same world as your mother?” the nurse asked, raising an eyebrow. “She probably thinks being a government worker is the best job. Did you become one?”

Lu Mingfei was left speechless, thinking that the psychiatric hospital was truly filled with talent—even the nurses spoke with such profound wisdom.

As the tranquilizer began to take effect, he slowly closed his eyes. “If my senior sister comes to see me, please tell her I’m fine and to take care of herself…

The nurse pulled the blanket over him, thinking, Ah, so it’s your senior sister! She’s the one who sent you here. You’re still hoping she’ll come rescue you?

Everyone here was waiting for someone from the outside to save them. Uncle Three-Wheeler was waiting for his son, the station chief was waiting for the People’s Liberation Army, and the fortune-teller was waiting for his emperor. They had all been here for a long time, yet no one had come for them. But truthfully, Lu Mingfei didn’t need anyone to save him. The straitjacket couldn’t hold him if he really wanted to leave—he had come here willingly. He couldn’t explain the strange events of the past few days to Nono and Finger, and he needed a quiet place to figure things out.

Lu Mingze had already visited him. Lu Mingze said that Odin was also injured when the mirror shattered and would need time to recover before appearing again.

Lu Mingfei had asked, “Isn’t he the god of death? Isn’t the god of death immortal? Why would a dead guy need to heal?”

Lu Mingze had responded cryptically, “The god of death isn’t a dead person. Death symbolizes absolute, pure destiny and the ultimate end. Besides, Odin isn’t the true god of death.”

In the small bedroom at Lu Mingfei’s uncle’s house, Finger and Nono sat across from each other at a table littered with empty beer cans.

Outside, rain poured down from an iron-gray sky. The streets were flooded in places, with water deep enough to reach the knees. Leaves floated on the surface of the puddles.

From the kitchen came the clattering of knives chopping meatballs, as Auntie directed the helper to prepare something nutritious to boost Finger’s strength. In the living room, the uncle was engrossed in a dramatic anti-Japanese war TV series, the dialogue ringing loudly.

For the time being, Lu Mingfei couldn’t come home. Finger had told the family that the college had sent him to Shanghai for an interview with a promising applicant, and he wouldn’t be back for a few days.

In front of Nono was a laptop displaying Lu Mingfei’s medical record, with the signature of his attending physician, Dr. Fujiyama Masashi.

This was Lu Mingfei’s record from Cassell College, which Finger had secretly downloaded but had never shown to Nono until now.

Over nearly three years, Lu Mingfei had suffered frequent nightmares, was unable to stay in enclosed spaces alone, had severe insomnia, relied on alcohol to sleep, and was constantly plagued by feelings of insecurity. He kept his weapons within arm’s reach even while sleeping. The Nibelungen project had enhanced his bloodline and alleviated some of his symptoms, but EVA constantly monitored his mental state.

However, the issue of his severed corpus callosum hadn’t been included in the medical report. It wasn’t because Dr. Fujiyama wasn’t skilled enough, but because he wasn’t permitted to study Lu Mingfei’s brain. That brain was one of the college’s most valuable assets. But with a project like Nibelungen, it was impossible not to study such a super Hybrid thoroughly. There was probably a more secretive medical team above Dr. Fujiyama in charge of Lu Mingfei’s mental health, while Fujiyama’s role was likely just to chat with him and ease his mind.

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