Chapter 1: A Madman?

A gentle breeze stirred the branches, mottled light and shadow dancing across the ground. A handsome young man sat on the bench beneath the tree, while a little girl stood behind the iron gate beside it. Their eyes met.

The sunlight was bright, grass swayed in the wind, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

In the next second, the idyllic scene was shattered completely.

“The god will descend on the night of the full moon and punish you ignorant fools!” A man wearing slippers and hospital clothes ran past from behind.

A group of nurses and doctors followed after him.

“Hurry! Hurry!”

“Stop him!”

Nearby, a sickly, thin teenager sat on the ground hugging his knees, indifferent to everything around him.

Chi Feichi glanced down at the small ball that had rolled to his feet, bent to pick it up, and stood, walking toward the iron gate.

The nurse by the bench hurried to follow him, her eyes wary and guarded.

Reaching the gate, Chi Feichi crouched and passed the ball through the bars. “Here.”

Outside the gate, the little girl, perhaps frightened by the earlier commotion or perhaps just unsettled by Chi Feichi’s expressionless face, took the ball in a daze.

Chi Feichi stood, ready to leave.

“Wait, wait!” the girl called out. “Thank you, big brother! My name is Ayumi Yoshida. What’s your name?”

Chi Feichi paused, turning to study the girl.

Six or seven years old, a tidy bob haircut, yellow headband, pink sweater, a pair of large expectant eyes gazing up at him.

In this two-dimensional world, she was quite a cute little girl.

But—Ayumi Yoshida?

That name, combined with the chaotic timeline, made Chi Feichi feel both amused and helpless.

Had he crossed over into the world of “Detective Conan”?

A month ago, he’d been shocked to discover that his supposedly deceased self had transmigrated into the body of a Japanese university student.

With the same name—Chi Feichi.

The same age—twenty.

If it weren’t for the unfamiliar face and family, he’d almost believe he’d been resurrected.

He’d heard that the surname Chi was widespread: China, Japan, Korea, Italy, Malaysia… This lifetime, he’d made an international acquaintance.

But he’d rather not have.

When he transmigrated, the original consciousness in this body was still present!

Every three or four hours, they alternated, each taking control of the body while the other fell asleep.

The day after crossing over, he was sent to the psychiatric department.

The basic diagnosis: dissociative identity disorder.

To make matters worse, he felt the timeline here was off—yesterday was Saturday, and today was still Saturday?

But to the doctors and everyone else, he was the problem, suffering from a comorbidity—time perception syndrome!

For a while, he began to doubt himself.

Now, realizing this was the Conan world, with its chaotic timeline… he had a few words he didn’t know whether to say.

Worse still, after crossing over, he occasionally heard the voices of animals and plants. Without inherited memories, he had no emotional attachment to this world or his family. He wasn’t sure about his test results, but judging from the doctor’s grave expression, they must have been disastrous.

Moreover, the original consciousness suffered from depression and had attempted suicide twice before.

So, compulsory hospitalization under Level One care.

Level One care meant:

His own special ward, activities never outside the nurse’s field of vision…

The first week was spent mostly in the intensive care unit, outings had to be accompanied by staff, possessions managed by staff…

Daily assessment, records every three to seven days…

Changes in condition recorded at any time and reported to doctors for immediate action…

Up at set times, to bed at set times, medication at set times, constant monitoring… You’d get sick even if you weren’t!

“Big brother?” Ayumi Yoshida looked at Chi Feichi in confusion, a strange blush coloring her cheeks. He really was a handsome big brother…

The young nurse crouched, carefully explaining, “Little sister, he…”

Chi Feichi regained his composure and gazed at Ayumi Yoshida. “Chi Feichi. That’s my name.”

Ayumi nodded, her smile sweet. “I’ll remember it. Can I come play with you another day?”

“Ah, no…” the nurse quickly refused. Although Chi Feichi hadn’t shown any aggressive behavior, children were easily influenced, and she couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t say something strange. She wouldn’t allow a little girl to have much contact with him.

“Why?”

Ayumi’s puzzled voice faded behind them.

Chi Feichi had already turned, expression cold, heading back to the ward.

On the way, a man sidled up, glancing nervously around, and whispered, “Listen, your existence is just your perception, and perception can be deceived. Actually, this world was created by some entity, and if it wanted, it could erase us at any time. Do you believe that?”

Chi Feichi stared at the man for a moment. “Perhaps.”

Was this world created by Aoyama? Did it truly exist?

Even he didn’t know anymore.

The man let out a long sigh, a hint of relief in his eyes, and suddenly grabbed Chi Feichi as he tried to leave. “You’re the first to believe me! Since you do, I can’t abandon you. I’ll tell you, there’s a huge problem in this world—there’s a pair of eyes always watching us. I have a way to escape…”

Chi Feichi looked at the rambling man, feeling weary, stepped forward, twisted his arm, and flipped him over, simultaneously striking the man’s carotid artery.

The man passed out swiftly.

At last, the world was…

No, the world wasn’t peaceful!

“What are you doing?”

“Quick, over here!”

Before anyone could rush over, Chi Feichi released his grip without hesitation.

…

An hour later…

The middle-aged doctor was already somewhat bald, slightly plump, with a cheerful round face and a smile that exuded warmth and friendliness. “Mr. Chi, I’d like to understand—why did you strike his neck?”

Chi Feichi looked at Fukuyama Shiming, his attending physician, still expressionless. “He was too noisy.”

Fukuyama Shiming smiled. “Just because of that?”

“I know my limits.” Chi Feichi offered no further explanation; let them think what they would.

Once you’re in this place, the more you deny being sick, the more they believe you’re seriously ill.

Fukuyama Shiming nodded, noncommittal, and gently advised, “Don’t do it again. The neck is a fragile area; striking the carotid can cause unconsciousness, but it might also lead to death. It’s a dangerous act.”

Chi Feichi could see Fukuyama Shiming was about to make another note in his little notebook, but he said nothing more. “I understand.”

Fukuyama Shiming observed Chi Feichi, sighing inwardly. He could tell Chi Feichi didn’t care. Whether he had tendencies toward harming others would need careful observation. Outwardly, he showed nothing, still smiling. “Your recovery lately has been good—the alternation between personalities isn’t as frequent. With continued communication, you should recover soon… By the way, do you know what day of the week tomorrow is?”

Chi Feichi remembered checking the calendar and newspaper before leaving the ward. Today was Tuesday. “Tomorrow’s Wednesday.”

Fukuyama Shiming corrected him. “Ahem… Tomorrow is Friday.”

Chi Feichi fell silent, forcibly suppressing the urge to flip the table.

Today was Tuesday, tomorrow Friday?

Wonderful, he knew this was a trick question!

At this rate, he’d never get out, would he?

He thought the timeline in this world was abnormal, but everyone else believed it was normal. That made him the odd one out, the patient.

This… was probably how many people with mental illness felt.

And to top it off, the succulent plant on the table was making trouble, voicing its dissatisfaction: “So uncomfortable, so uncomfortable, I want water, so uncomfortable…”

“Friday, got it,” Chi Feichi replied, eyes straight ahead, expression indifferent.

Last time, it was because this succulent was making trouble and his gaze shifted, Fukuyama Shiming noticed and questioned him about what he saw or heard.

Psychiatrists—such a hassle.

The conversation ended after about half an hour.

The physician’s assistant, a young woman, smiled and quietly remarked, “Mr. Chi is one of the best-recovering patients. He’s been cooperative since admission, the two personalities communicate via notes in books, and there haven’t been any more auditory hallucinations. Everything is going in a positive direction.”

Fukuyama Shiming’s brow furrowed slightly. “It’s hard to say. He’s very smart…”

“Huh?” the assistant was puzzled.

“Have you looked closely at his diagnostic report?” Fukuyama Shiming pulled out a folder from the drawer, opened it, and pointed to the diagnosis. “Dissociative identity disorder. Both personalities have emotional deficit disorder. One is severely depressed with obsessive-compulsive tendencies and suicidal inclinations; the other has auditory hallucinations, delusions, and time perception disorder…”

The assistant nodded. “Classic symptoms of dissociative identity disorder.”

“It’s a troublesome condition requiring long-term treatment. Now, both personalities seem aware of each other and communicate proactively, but we must watch his daily behavior. With dissociative identity disorder, expressions are extremely cold, and so are emotions toward those around him,” Fukuyama Shiming said. “From this perspective, there’s no sign of recovery. Lately, the personality in control is the delusional one, right? He’s intelligent, seems to recognize his illness, but actually doesn’t admit to it. He’s still pretending, deceiving. That personality… is smart, crafty, and when it’s present, he’s physically agile, but his personal history has no record of such training.”

“So, that personality is just his delusion?” the assistant pondered.

“We must make him recognize this, then assess if the delusional personality is aggressive,” Fukuyama Shiming thought for a moment. “But for now, at least the delusional personality won’t attempt suicide… Have you contacted his family recently?”

“Yes,” the assistant lowered her voice, “but his parents have no intention of visiting. After a couple of words, they said they were busy and hung up.”

Fukuyama Shiming frowned. “They really have no intention of cooperating!”