Metropolis.
The sunlight was quite bright.
Inside a psychologist's consultation room.
A gentle breeze stirred the curtains, and dappled light swayed upon them. The young man sat on the not-so-comfortable sofa and looked up at the psychologist in front of him.
"I'm not mentally ill."
Ian Kent spoke softly.
"Most people who come here think they aren't sick." The psychologist, dressed in a sharp suit, sat like a gentleman, elegant and upright. A delicate notebook and a pen were placed before him.
"It's just that my parents often find me waking up startled at night, so they think I need some psychological counseling." Ian adjusted himself on the sofa.
He seemed to be trying to find the most comfortable sitting position.
"What did you dream about?" The psychologist asked at the right moment, picking up the pen in front of him. His magnetic voice held a power that could induce people to confide.
However, Ian didn't have such a need.
"Teenagers always have some unrealistic fantasies they're too embarrassed to talk about, don't they?" After a moment of thought, Ian chose to give a vague answer.
The psychologist nodded without changing his expression after hearing this.
"I understand you don't trust me much right now; we can discuss this issue later." He said, while writing and drawing in his notebook.
From Ian's position, it wasn't clear what the psychologist was writing.
"Perhaps you could just prescribe me some medication."
Ian proactively suggested. Compared to talk therapy, he preferred to coolly show off some tech and tough stuff. There were things in his heart he didn't want others to pry into.
For instance, he was a transmigrator, and his father in this life was Superman, whose ears were more sensitive than a sonar detector... and that world that appeared in his dreams every now and then.
Everything seemed frozen. Heavy snow swirled, carried by biting winds, and the outlines of broken buildings flickered dimly in the haze. Such an environment could make anyone walking through it feel increasingly oppressed.
Perhaps it was a nightmare.
Or perhaps something else.
After all, living in a world where anything is possible, Ian wasn't entirely sure what his dreams meant. He only knew he would wake up promptly upon hearing a bell toll.
Just as Ian was lost in thought, the psychologist stopped writing. "Patients who proactively ask for medication are not something I've seen much of in my career."
He seemed a little surprised.
"Although I firmly believe I don't have a mental illness, I occasionally feel some symptoms of anxiety..." After a pause, Ian added, somewhat trying to cover up, "It might be related to my heavy academic workload. I think taking some medication for this might help calm my mind."
The young man's voice was very sincere and frank.
The psychologist subconsciously glanced at the top of Ian's head, finding no sign of a pointed head. "From what I understand, your academic performance is quite outstanding."
He was clearly doubting the source of Ian's anxiety.
"Precisely because of this, to continuously stay ahead of my peers, the pressure I bear is definitely much greater than others." Ian gave a seemingly sincere but insincere answer.
"Hmm."
After hearing this, the psychologist first nodded, his deep gaze meeting Ian's for a long time.
"I don't think you're telling the truth."
He stated his opinion very directly and recorded it in his notebook again. In response, Ian just silently watched the psychologist's actions.
The source of his anxiety was indeed not academics.
In fact, as a unlucky person who scored over 700 on the college entrance exam before transmigrating but was forced to restart before even attending university, the academic tasks at the public school here were not difficult for him.
What truly made Ian feel anxious actually stemmed from the 'golden finger' he had recently awakened, which is what most people call a transmigrator's benefit.
When a 'ding' sound appeared in his mind, he knew he was no longer an ordinary person. However, the system's awakening didn't make him happy for long.
This system was different from the check-in systems, clock-in systems, or even soft-rice systems Ian had dreamed of. It was more like an unfinished game character panel.
[Name: Ian Kent]
[Common Profession: Student lv7 (12/640)]
[Supernatural Profession: None]
[World Recognition: npc]
[Strength: 0.7]
[Constitution: 1.5]
[Intelligence: 2.3]
[Spirit: 2.5]
[Talent Skills: None]
[General Skills: Learning (Elite)]
[General Skill Points: 7]
...
There were no quests, stores, or various flashy functions. There was just a panel and the ability to digitize Ian's abilities and status.
The [Learning] skill might have been a legacy from his previous life, naturally possessing an [Elite] quality, allowing Ian to learn new knowledge at a speed surpassing most of his peers.
However, since Ian hadn't entered society in either his previous or current life, and book knowledge wasn't presented as skills, his skill list looked a bit empty.
The real reason Ian felt anxious was the [World Recognition] displayed on the system panel. The glaring words 'npc' on it made him wish his corneas would detach.
His liver, gallbladder, and kidneys also felt precarious.
Isn't this clearly a template meant for sacrifice to the heavens, to stimulate the potential and talent of his family? Ian usually watched movies, so of course he would be suspicious about this.
After all, American dramas love this kind of thing.
And wasn't he now living in a world of American comics? One should know that ever since awakening this system, Ian also realized he wasn't the biological child of his parents in this life. What could be a better sacrifice than an adopted son to ignite Superman's fighting spirit and the bloodline potential of his two brothers!
How can I survive!
This was the greatest anxiety for Ian, who had died once. Although he was also working hard to increase his [Student] profession level, aside from slight upgrades to his Intelligence and Spirit attributes, he only gained seven General Skill Points. These could at most be used for learning and upgrading skills like [Cooking] or [Dancing].
Perhaps studying can't change destiny.
It had truly materialized for Ian.
He was even a little desperate because of this, which is why he proactively suggested wanting medication. As for the real reason for this anxiety, Ian couldn't tell the psychologist in front of him.
The reason wasn't just about the unspeakable secret.
It was also because the psychologist his parents found for him, just by name, didn't sound like a name a good person would have—Ian's gaze flickered to the nameplate on the doctor's desk.
[Hannibal Lecter]
Yes.
As soon as he entered.
Ian noticed the psychologist's unusualness.
This damned prejudice.
He only hoped he truly had paranoia.