The Boundaries of Reason

The sky was cloudless for miles, and the blazing sun scorched the earth. Inside a quiet brick house, a gray-haired old man sat in a wooden chair and muttered in complaint:

"Doctor, it's too cold."

The old man wore a tailored suit, its hem neatly tucked into his trousers. His gray hair was combed flawlessly back from his forehead, and he wore an ordinary pair of round-framed glasses.

Even though the indoor temperature had nearly reached that of summer beneath the sunlight, the meticulously groomed old man still wore a thick sweater.

No one could be seen behind the desk opposite him. Only an enormous grayish-white paper newspaper blocked the old man's view of the doctor he had come to see.

"Mm... it is a little cold."

"Achilles, add more wood to the fireplace. Don't let this old gentleman freeze."

The white-haired girl beside them, wrapped up just as tightly, responded and turned her gaze toward the fireplace burning with warm orange flames.

She made no visible movement, but in the next moment, the flames in the fireplace blazed as though enchanted, seeming even brighter than the sunlight streaming through the windows.

"Oh, this feels quite nice."

Feeling the nearby flames, the old man in round-framed glasses relaxed slightly and looked toward the doctor hidden behind the large newspaper.

"Honestly, Doctor, if I weren't afraid that breaking our appointment would make my wife angry, I wouldn't have come here at all."

"I don't feel like I'm receiving treatment. Our meetings are more like regular chats between friends."

Yet the doctor hidden behind the newspaper was not paying attention to the old man's mental state as he usually did during their meetings.

He no longer tried to change the old man's way of thinking, nor did he try to challenge his