On the tenth floor of the Mind Palace, in a ward at the asylum, teenage Schiller and the towering Khonshu sat side by side on the edge of a hospital bed. Schiller was slipping a circular component from Khonshu's staff over his wrist, while Khonshu was using a pile of such components to repair his staff.
Holding up his half-repaired staff, Khonshu stretched out his arm and examined it from a distance. Finding some details unsatisfactory, he drew it back and continued repairing it. Teenage Schiller kept fiddling with the ring, seemingly studying why it glowed.
Suddenly, the room in the Mind Palace trembled slightly, and dust rained from the worn walls. Khonshu had no idea what was happening. He looked around but found nothing unusual, while teenage Schiller immediately stood up.
Under Khonshu's somewhat frightened gaze, a black umbrella appeared in his hand. Then, with a sharp shing, a blade sprang from its tip.
"What's wrong? Where are you going?" Khonshu rose and asked.
Teenage Schiller did not answer. He merely gripped the umbrella blade and strode out of the ward, his icy words echoing through the room:
"I'm going to kill someone."
In the real world, Steve sat between two hospital beds, reading a magazine.
He had originally been tired. After experiencing such intense emotional turmoil and doing so much deduction, his mind was thoroughly exhausted. But because his Anxiety Disorder had not yet healed, the more tense he became, the less he could sleep. He could only pass the time with the magazine the nurse had brought him.
Over the edge of the magazine, he saw Schiller, lying on the bed, move slightly. Steve immediately put away the magazine and prepared to go talk to Schiller. But then he noticed a change in Schiller's expression.
The instant