In a spacious, bright Doctor's office, Merkel sat in front of a chair, watching Schiller across from him as he bent over a medical record. Merkel frowned and said:
"...So what you mean is, I'm in your Dream right now?"
"That's right. Now, can you tell me exactly what's going on?"
Merkel frowned. This young butler, who always appeared mature and steady, now carried himself very differently.
When serving Schiller at the manor, he seemed composed and honest, always discussing the weather with everyone he met and carrying a distinctly British sense of humor. In short, the moment anyone saw him, they would think of the quintessential English butler.
But now, when he furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes, a sharpness radiated from him that made it difficult not to associate him with professions like agents or soldiers.
"If I don't tell you, can't I leave here?"
Schiller shook his head. "No, you can't stay here for too long. If someone remains in a dream for too long, their bodily functions will be affected, just like the muscles of a vegetative patient who has been unconscious for years will atrophy."
"I mean, will you let me leave?"
Schiller nodded instead. He looked into Merkel's eyes and said, "I hope you understand one thing. I spent money and time looking for a butler who could manage my manor for me."
"But while I was away, you rummaged through my things and ended up here. So please don't make it sound as though I imprisoned you. This was entirely your own mistake, and I'm the victim here."
Merkel looked as though he wanted to say something, but Schiller continued before he could speak:
"I don't care what political position you hold, or what other purpose you had in taking this job,