In fact, for a long time, the vast majority of Schiller's friends had never had a clear understanding of just how severe his Dissociative Identity Disorder—commonly known as split personality—really was.
But rather than putting it that way, it would be more accurate to say that the severity of Schiller's fragmentation had exceeded everyone's imagination.
Quite a few of Schiller's friends had seen, or even entered, Schiller's Mind Tower. They knew there were many personalities inside, and even knew that was merely the normal state of affairs. Beneath the Mind Tower lay the Abyss, where the pathological ones resided.
But if every one of Schiller's personality traits had fractured to the point where it could act independently, then this had gone from unscientific to horrifying—even disastrous.
"That was definitely Schiller." Natasha insisted. She pressed her back tightly against the door and said, "This time, I saw it clearly. The hand holding the knife was Schiller's!"
"But he wasn't there." Batman shook his head. "We only saw a reflection in the glass. But according to the principles of optics, there was no sign of him where the reflection should have originated. In other words, there was only a reflection."
"Schiller turned into a ghost." Natasha still wore that expression of having seen a ghost, which was already the most terrifying expression the female agent could make. But in truth, this was far more frightening than seeing a ghost.
"No." Batman shook his head. Recalling more details, he pointed at Natasha's clothes and said, "We're all wearing hospital gowns."
"So?" Natasha looked down at herself. She had been wearing a hospital gown when she woke up here, the common blue-and-white outfit seen in psychiatric hospitals.
Suddenly, realization dawned on her. "The cuff on that hand wasn't from a hospital gown. It was...