My ‘Healing’ Game
Chapter 241: The Butterfly that Flew Out of the Dream

Chapter 241: Chapter 241: The Butterfly that Flew Out of the Dream

After Xu Qin left, Han Fei began to inspect the room.

This room used to belong to the number eight sub-personality, and there might be some useful clues left inside.

"The layout of all the rooms in the building is similar, much like the ones in the Meat Factory Courtyard for Family, and even the shrines placed in the rooms are identical."

Standing in the corner of the living room, Han Fei had noticed the shrine when he first entered the room, but since his wounds had not yet healed, he did not tamper with it at the time.

"Whether it’s in reality or the Beast Alley of the Deep World, there are a large number of shrines in the buildings where Writer lived, but he clearly mentioned in ’Butcher’s House’ that he didn’t believe in divine spirits."

Slowly removing the black cloth from the shrine, Han Fei was just about to open the wooden door on the shrine when Cry stopped him.

"Do you feel the danger?"

Cry was on high alert like a startled wild cat.

Looking at the bloodstains seeping out from the cracks of the shrine, Han Fei ultimately did not open the small door. "The bloodstains on the shrine are already dry. That door leading to the divine spirit has probably not been opened for a long time. It’s better not to take the risk and wait for Xu Qin to return and seek her opinion."

The whole room was very clean, and everything was neatly arranged. The owner of the room even seemed to have a bit of an obsessive-compulsive feeling, with the distance between the decorations all the same.

The living room, kitchen, and bathroom all felt nice, but upon entering the bedroom, everything changed completely.

The floor was strewn with bloody gauze and clothes, the bedding was torn and tattered by knives, and dried, congealed bloodstains were visible everywhere.

The overhead light had been smashed, the wardrobe toppled, the desk sawed in half. Every possible hiding spot in the bedroom had been destroyed.

The windows were cemented shut, and the white walls were full of words scratched with knives and fingernails. They were crooked and covered the whole room, as if containing the owner’s pain in their glaring, blood-red text. Just one glance made one feel uncomfortable all over.

Standing at the bedroom door, it was as if Han Fei saw a scene unfold before his eyes.

At midnight, a woman woke from a nightmare and fell into madness, her personality transforming drastically as she frenziedly destroyed everything around her.

Destruction without purpose was a way to vent the fear in her heart and, at the same time, to enhance her sense of security.

"Number eight sub-personality, the female chef, her complexity is second only to Writer, a person with severe germophobia. Why did she turn into a murderous Butcher?"

In order to understand this, Han Fei entered the bedroom, carefully discerning the mad ramblings on the walls.

There’s a saying among psychiatrists: you can enter a madman’s heart, but never try to think the way he does, nor attempt to understand him.

What Han Fei was doing was very dangerous; he wasn’t formally trained. He just wanted to understand more and restore the fears experienced by the number eight sub-personality to find the reason for her transformation.

Looking at the text on the walls, his fingers touched the knife and dig marks. It seemed like the person didn’t feel pain during their mental breakdown, and there were still traces of flesh within the words.

Surrounded by such text in the room, Han Fei slowly immersed himself in the experiences of the number eight sub-personality.

"I’ve forgotten when I first dreamed of that thing; it seemed to hide among the crowd, brushing past me inadvertently. But later, for some reason, it seemed to latch onto me."

"That thing seemed to be appearing in my dreams constantly, no matter what kind of dream I was having, it would always be there."

"Most of the time, it would take the form of a stranger, not interacting with me at all, just watching me from a distance."

"But from a certain point on, everything changed, and that thing started to get closer to me."

"I could feel it, it was getting closer and closer to me, and sometimes, although it did not appear, I could still feel its gaze, knowing it was right beside me."

"I don’t understand why I am having such strange dreams? Why must I suffer like this? Reality is tiring enough, and I can finally rest well in my dreams, but now even my dreams are no longer safe."

"On the seventh day of dreaming about that thing, the truly bad events began."

"At the time, I dreamt that my pet cat jumped onto the windowsill, it seemed afraid to stay in my room, and I wanted to go hold it, but when it saw me approaching, it jumped out of the window."

"I rushed to the window, and as I leaned out to look down, I was pushed by a tremendous force from behind."

"Someone was in my house and pushed me off from upstairs!"

"As my body fell, I saw it standing at my apartment window."

"I don’t know it, yet it wanted to kill me. I could think of no reason."

"That night’s death was just the beginning, in the dreams that followed, I was killed over and over by that thing. It had various methods, continually killing me, waking me from my dreams in fright!"

"I didn’t dare to sleep at all throughout the night, my mind on the verge of collapse. I didn’t know what to do. The moment I closed my eyes, that thing would appear in my dreams!"

"I can’t even remember how many times I was killed, and gradually I began to hallucinate; I started having trouble distinguishing between reality and dream."

"Sometimes I feel like I’m dreaming, but the pain is very real. Sometimes I think I’m in reality, but only after it kills me do I realize that it was just a dream."

"My sanity is close to breaking down, and the boundary between reality and dreams is becoming blurred. When I can no longer differentiate between reality and dreams, that thing seems to have been brought from the dream world into reality by me, using my consciousness to cross over from dreams to reality, penetrating my mind."

"Yes, I can clearly feel its presence, whether in dreams or in reality. The butterfly-shaped mark is the best proof."

After reading the crazy scribbles on the wall, Han Fei’s back was unknowingly soaked with sweat, and his gaze was firmly fixed on the words "butterfly mark".

"The ’it’ referred to by Personality No. 8, does it mean the butterfly?"

"The butterfly was not originally a thing from reality, but something that ran out of a nightmare?"

Han Fei still doesn’t know what the butterfly’s real form is. Among all the people who had fought the butterfly, only Spider had seen the real butterfly.

"All eight personalities are dead, Spider paid such a huge price, what weakness of his did it get a hold of?"

The clues hidden in Butcher’s home were far more numerous than Han Fei had imagined, and it seemed as if the mystery of the butterfly could be unraveled here.