"You always say I'm changing the subject, but I've actually explained every single word I said."
"Then please forgive our stupidity and lack of professionalism for failing to dig up the answer you buried a thousand feet beneath the words."
Schiller laughed deeply. Natasha turned her head toward him in surprise and stared at him, as though she had seen a vitality in him entirely unlike anything before.
"Where were we? Family comes from a sense of responsibility, responsibility comes from love, and it isn't clear where love comes from. Perhaps hormones. At the very least, sex comes from them."
"But you also mentioned that autistic people don't have this kind of impairment," Nick pointed out.
"Yes, but we also discussed that if there are other functional symptoms connected to it, then this becomes extremely dangerous, especially for the person experiencing it."
Natasha raised one eyebrow, resting the index finger of the hand propping up her elbow on the couch against the angle of her jaw. With great interest, she said, "You mean you associate violence with sex, Doctor?"
"And we also discussed the severe consequences brought about by violence." Schiller spoke as though he were discussing an objective fact unrelated to himself.
"Extreme violence brings death. You associate sex with death? In what way?"
After Natasha asked that question, Schiller seemed to become sleepy. He straightened up from the couch, placed his empty teacup on the coffee table, yawned, and said, "I'm a little tired. I'll go upstairs and rest first."
Without waiting for anyone else to respond, he stood and headed upstairs. Natasha, who clearly felt the conversation had just reached its most interesting point, was unwilling to let it go. She opened her mouth anxiously, but then felt that if Schiller did not want to talk, asking