Dr. G.I. Boleid’s Psychoanalysis – Part 01

Meanwhile, Kazuya pedaled swiftly on his bike, traveling from East Village southward towards the bustling business district at the southern tip of Manhattan Island, home to landmarks like Wall Street.

Steel buildings clustered together like eerie trees in a forest, jostling against each other, their minimalist design devoid of unnecessary embellishments. Side streets were dim and damp throughout.

Newspaper Row. A hub of media institutions, with large buildings housing long-established newspaper companies.

In one corner, nestled among these impressive structures, stood a six-story mixed-use building that appeared to have been constructed with just paper and glue and discreetly crammed within.

The Daily Road, a fledgling newspaper company.

Word on the street was that its owner was a successful young man who had risen to prominence after the war and was even featured in the country’s Who’s Who. However, despite the supposed prestige, this beleaguered newspaper company, rumored to have been acquired on a whim, struggled to stay afloat.

Compared to the impressive surrounding buildings, the front entrance had a unique design, featuring a stone statue of an angel spreading its wings, and a stained glass window depicting Galileo with what seemed to be the Earth on his head, sticking out his tongue. Tourists often mistook the place for a restaurant.

Kazuya parked his bike outside the building. Arriving later than scheduled, he dashed inside and entered the small hydraulic elevator filled with young reporters and photographers.

Upon reaching the fifth floor, he voiced his intention to step out, then navigated through the throng and stumbled out like a pinball.

The corridor, dim and narrow, was chilly. Adjusting his hat, Kazuya hurried to the editor-in-chief’s office.

Beside the humble wooden frame and frosted glass door stood Nico, rocking idly back and forth. Upon spotting Kazuya, he smirked and gestured towards the room.

“Huh?”

“Be quiet!” Nico waved his hand wildly.

Kazuya approached stealthily, then peered inside.

The handsome editor-in-chief in his forties and his pretty secretary, with blonde hair soft as straw, tied in pigtails, were flinging documents and pens at each other. Or more accurately, the secretary launched a unilateral assault.

“Dad, you idiot!”

“Another family quarrel,” Nico said. “This is what he gets for hiring his own daughter as a secretary.”

“Again? What is it about this time?”

“I heard something about the jam for breakfast. Then again, with the editor-in-chief also being the company president’s uncle, this place is more like a family-run business. Kujou?”

Kazuya was staring fixedly at the editor-in-chief. Upon noticing Nico’s gaze, he said, “I just wanted to see the editor-in-chief sweat a bit. I couldn’t help it.”

Nico burst into laughter. “I feel you, man. It’s so satisfying seeing him like this. Oh crap, he spotted us!”

The editor-in-chief spun around, veins bulging on his forehead. Clutching a portion of the newspaper, he lunged forward like a lion. His demonic face and the newspaper’s advertisement page were stuck side by side on the glass door.

Kazuya and Nico flinched and trembled.

The newspaper displayed a hospital ad featuring a close-up of a male doctor. He sported a confident smile, icy eyes behind glasses, and a long beard. Draped in a lab coat over a fine suit, he was pointing sharply at the viewer. What was this all about?

“You ate all my jam!”

The secretary’s scream reverberated down the corridor, rattling the glass. Young reporters passed by with exasperated looks, muttering, “Here we go again.”

“Go buy more now! Or I’ll kill you!”

The editor-in-chief, stuck to the glass, gestured wildly at the advertisement with bloodshot eyes. He seemed to be saying something.

“Kujou… Nicolas… Head… to this clinic… for an… on-site interview! W-We don’t have… a lot of time… Now!”

“O-Okay?”

“Come on, chief,” Nico said. “You have to elaborate, or we’ll have no idea what… Huh?”

As the editor turned around, a newspaper-shaped bookend hurtled toward him and struck his forehead. With a grunt, he slowly disappeared from sight behind the glass, sliding down to the floor. Kazuya scrutinized the newspaper ad.

It said: “Welcome to Dr. G.I. Boleid’s clinic! Did you know your troubles can be alleviated with ‘the science of the mind’?”

The words gradually vanished below.

The lovely secretary glanced at Kazuya and Nico’s direction, and as soon as she spotted them looking in, her face flushed bright red, and she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.


“Psychology?” Kazuya asked.

“I told you to hurry! Because of your tardiness, I found myself in a sticky situation!”

The editor-in-chief dabbed at the blood trickling from his forehead. His bloodshot eyes and quivering lips ruined his mature and sophisticated looks.

“Did you tell us to hurry knowing you’d be squabbling with your daughter?” Nico grouched.

“That’s right! No, no, that’s not it!”

“…”

“You can’t predict what might set that girl off. I mean, we’ve got an urgent matter I need you to handle. Here!”

With the bleeding showing no signs of abating, he bound his head with a handkerchief and swiftly unfolded the newspaper advertisement.

Kazuya took out his notebook. Nico began eating the coffee and donuts brought over by the beautiful but eerily quiet secretary, quickly delegating the difficult conversation to his partner.

“Dr. G.I. Boleid is a German psychologist. He relocated to the United States after the second world war and opened a clinic. Having gone through some form of mental trauma himself during the war, he’s studying the science of the mind—psychology. My mind’s a bit foggy… Ugh!”

“A-Are you all right?”

“Tch! I haven’t stooped so low as to need your concern. Where were we?”

“Uh, you were talking about Dr. Boleid… Chief?”

“I can’t say I understand the treatments he offers, but he’s gained immense popularity among young New Yorkers, particularly war veterans and nocturnal flappers. He’s become such a sensation that he’s advertising in newspapers.”

“Hmm, hmm…”

“So, when I asked for an interview, he surprisingly agreed. And he said we could come today, hence my rushed call to you both. There aren’t any other reporters available, you see. Kujou, you’re diligent and meticulous in your reporting, but unfortunately, we’re not a top-tier newspaper. If you can’t produce more casual, distasteful articles, you won’t cut it here! So, go out and whip up an engaging article. Get moving!”

Kazuya lifted his head and stared resolutely at the editor-in-chief. He tried to say something, but when the editor-in-chief smacked his rear, he yelped and sprang to his feet, scurrying to the wall. He covered his buttocks in embarrassment. Meanwhile, Nico choked on his coffee as he was struck on the rear while attempting to gulp down the last of his donut.

“I heard you, sir!”

“The man is free from three o’clock for an hour and a half. Quit fidgeting like schoolgirls and get going already! Oh, and one more thing!”

The editor stopped the pair as they were about to flee the editor’s office. He roughly wiped away the blood seeping from the handkerchief with the back of his hand, smearing red across his face. Kazuya and Nico winced in fear.

“Um, well, the war has left the doctor a bit… off-kilter… or rather… uh… Well, you’ll see once you meet him. Don’t sweat the small stuff and just conduct a brief interview. Here, take this!”

He tossed the newspaper ad. Kazuya and Nico hesitated to pick it up due to the blood, passing it back and forth.

Then, Kazuya’s gaze fell on a spot without blood—Dr. Boleid’s photo.

“Hmm?” Clutching the newspaper, he lapsed into thought. “His face looks familiar.”

“And another thing!”

“I wonder why. Huh…”

“Since you’re headed all the way to the Upper West Side, you might as well pick this up. Here!”

He scribbled a note, fashioned it into an airplane, and tossed it.

Nico reluctantly caught the flimsy paper aircraft. He unfurled it and found an address further north of Upper West Side, along with the store and product names.

“One jar of Mint Jam, the not-too-sweet kind. No, make it two jars!”

“Ugh, isn’t this just an errand?!” Nico snapped. “Just go buy it yourself.”

The editor-in-chief’s sour voice rolled from behind the closing door. “Damn it. Adults have a lot of things to do. Just go already, you kids. Ugh…!”


The corridor of the Daily Road editorial department was narrow and dim. If someone were to switch on the lights, they’d likely shudder at the sight of dust, rubbish, and deceased mice in the corners.

Kazuya and Nico hurried along, jostling between the reporters converging from various directions.

“It’s hard to refuse when his forehead’s split open and bleeding,” Nico said. “But seriously, the chief riles up his daughter every single day. Hey, Kujou?” He eyed his partner curiously. “What’s up?”

“Hmm? Oh, I feel like I’ve seen this Dr. G.I. Boleid somewhere before.”

As they conversed, they were blocked by an Irish duo striding confidently toward them. Taken aback, they stopped in their tracks.

Nico pursed his lips, squared his shoulders, and stepped forward.

They were a pair of senior reporter and photographer, both Irish with light-colored eyes and light brown hair. They wore awfully smug grins.

“Look! If it isn’t the weird Asian guy and the mobster wannabe! Just kidding. Whoa, don’t glare at us like that, Nico.”

“You look even more childish when you’re angry. Anyway, could you move aside?”

Nico clenched his fists, staring daggers at the duo.

“Anyway, Kujou, we’re swamped again today. You know how we’re covering the Miss New York Contest, right? Plus, we have a major interview scheduled afterward.”

“With the rumored presidential candidate, Mr. Goldsworthy. Heard of him? He’s the clean politician who doesn’t make deals with the mafia, the business world, or the FBI! He doesn’t pander to those annoying Puritans either.”

“That politician is holding a rally in front of the Empire State Building this weekend, so he’s arriving in New York today! And guess who’s covering it in-depth? Us! It’s hectic, but I love it!”

“So, Kujou, lend us a hand again, will ya?”

Kazuya, his eyes fixed on the newspaper ad, nodded along absentmindedly, but then snapped back to his senses the moment they asked for help.

“But I also have an interview to do right now. Wait, help you with what?”

The Mafia’s World—I’m a Dangerous Man! series. The manuscript for the fourth installment that’s coming out this week is ready, right? Can you help us out with next week’s too? Come on, please.”

“Well, if I have time… Wait, Nico! Stop!”

Nico was about to throw a punch, but Kazuya swiftly intervened. Nico’s expression turned fierce. The senior duo playfully elbowed each other as they scurried away.

Still fuming, Nico swung his fists around. “Fuck those guys. They always take advantage of your kindness and dump all the troublesome work on you. Imagine being an adult who only knows how to be crafty. And they always turn out to be the awful ones.”

“But still…” Kazuya replied despondently. “Their articles are undeniably engaging, as the chief puts it.”

“Is that so? Man, I was really looking forward to Mr. Goldsworthy’s interview! There’s something intriguing about him. Oh, my instincts are usually spot-on, you know. Since I was a kid, I’ve always been able to spot dine and dashers at restaurants or those who dress modestly but are secretly wealthy.”

“Hmm…”

“Hey, are you even listening? You’ve been out of it since earlier.” Nico turned to look at him, then froze. “Wh-What’s wrong with you?”

Kazuya was standing in the middle of the bustling corridor, looking forlorn… and inexplicably started dancing. He was lost in thought, tapping his feet rhythmically.

“Uh, are you having some kind of nervous breakdown? Is it because of those jerk’s bullying?!”

Though worried, Nico backed into the wall, ready to run. The flow of reporters parted, avoiding Kazuya like he was a rock in the middle of a river.

“No, you see…” Kazuya gestured to his feet. “I feel like I’m on the verge of remembering something, and I think it’s related to dancing. What could it be?” he wondered aloud with a straight face.

Nico scratched his beard. “Related to dancing, huh?”

At that moment, the only hydraulic elevator finally reached the fifth floor. They all attempted to squeeze in, jostling and shoving. Kazuya and Nico got separated amid the chaos.

The packed elevator creaked as it descended. Dins of conversations, the clatter of typewriters, hurried footfalls echoed in the considerably emptier corridor.

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