?Chapter 1048:


    For sixteen hours a day, he toiled like a cog in an unfeeling machine. By the time he clocked out, his clothes were drenched—so saturated with sweat that a single twist could send droplets cascading to the floor.


    Yet, he never uttered a word ofint. When the foreman barked orders at him, Rnd didn’t flinch. Every night, copsing into bed, he meticulously wrote a work summary, knowing Adrian would scrutinize every word.


    It wasn’t that Rnd wasn’t exhausted—he simply didn’t feel it. His body moved, his hands worked, but his mind? Numb. It wasn’t until a coworker’s thumb was crushed by a machine—an ident caused by a single moment of carelessness—that it hit him: his reaction wasn’t normal.


    The entire workshop froze in rm. Even the foreman, usually a ruthless drill sergeant, rushed forward, shouting for an ambnce, his face pale with panic.


    Expressions varied—some filled with horror, others with morbid curiosity, a few with quiet apprehension, wondering if they’d be next.


    And Rnd? He simply looked on, indifferent.


    He didn’t think it was a big deal.


    When Wade died, it was far worse. The explosion had painted the world in blood, turning the ground into a grotesque canvas of crimson. Maybe that was why nothing stirred within him now.


    But in that moment, as the others stared at him in growing unease—watching him continue working as if nothing had happened—Rnd realized something undeniable.


    He was definitely not normal.


    Later, he found that crumpled, oil-stained business card and stared at the name printed on it for a long while.


    Amanda Duffy, a nationally recognized psychologist.


    I@?e$t ￠н@???я$ ?η ???и?vε??.c?m


    He tried to recall her face—so young, yet she carried an air ofpetence.


    As fate would have it, Rnd had a rare day off the next morning. On impulse, he decided to visit her clinic.


    But he wasn’t reckless about it. The first thing he did upon arrival was inquire about the consultation fees.


    “Two thousand per hour?” he echoed.


    The receptionist nodded, smiling like a cat about to pounce on a canary. “Yes.”


    Rnd let out a shortugh—half disbelief, half amusement. Ny minutes with her would cost his entire month’s sry.


    Whether or not Amanda’s therapy worked, that price alone was enough to make him feel perfectly sane.


    “Sir, would you like me to book an appointment?”


    Every instinct told him to turn around and leave. But strangely, his feet wouldn’t move.


    Leaning against the reception desk, he let his eyes drift to the screen in front of the beautiful receptionist. Amanda’s schedule seemed packed, her calendar brimming with appointments.


    “When’s her next avable slot?” he asked.


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