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Dr. G.I. Boleid’s Psychoanalysis – Part 04

Meanwhile…

As night descended, casting the streets of Brooklyn into darkness, a cold wind swept through, rustling the trees that lined the sidewalks.

On the fourth floor of an immigrant apartment building on 14 Cranberry Street, beside the kitchen, there was a corner usually concealed by rose-patterned lace curtains. Tonight, however, the curtains were drawn back, revealing a black box resembling an iron tub.

Victorique stood expressionless, garbed in a black and red velvet dress, holding a fluffy towel against her chest. Her feet were bare, her pale skin glowing under the lamplight.

Meanwhile, Kazuya was heating water using a large kettle. He poured the boiling water from the kettle into the iron box and diluted it with more water. Kneeling down, he carefully checked the temperature.

“The water’s nice and warm, Victorique.”

“Your effort is appreciated.”

“All right, miss bossy pants. Go on and have your usual bath.”

“What? I have never been bossy toward you. What a rude servant.” Victorique replied casually, before drawing the lace curtains and disappearing behind them.

There was a rustling of clothes, followed by a very faint plop, like something small accidentally falling into the water. Next came playful splashes, quiet laughter, then silence. Another splash.

Kazuya turned his back to the lace curtains and moved away. Taking a seat at the corner of the kitchen table, he straightened his back and began to lay out documents, intending to do some work.

Soon, he heard Victorique’s carefree singing voice from beyond the curtain.

“I looove taking baths.”

Kazuya lifted his head, chuckling softly. “Because it warms you up?”

“Yep!”

“Good to know. At least my effort in boiling the water wasn’t in vain.”

“Hmm.”

Splash, splash.

Kazuya lowered his gaze to the documents and fell into contemplation.

“Hey, Kujou.”

“What?!” Kazuya shuddered.

“Share something. I’m starting to get bored. And I demand an interesting story!”

“O-Out of nowhere? Well, let’s see… Maybe I could talk about work again?”

“If it’s boring… We’re done!”

“There you go again.” Kazuya looked uneasy. “Um, are you familiar with a psychologist named Dr. G.I. Boleid? He seems to be really popular right now.”

As soon as he started talking, there was a loud splash. A steamy sigh reached through the curtain. Kazuya blushed slightly, tilting his head.

“Ah, that eccentric psychologist famous for his psychoanalysis. Shall we call him the charlatan of new science?”

“So you know about him, too.”

“There’s not a single thing in this world that I don’t know.”

Another splash.

Kazuya turned his head while resting his cheek on his hand, gazing at the lace curtains. He blushed and turned away awkwardly.

“Really now?” Kazuya tried to be as calm as possible. “I don’t really understand what science of the mind means.”

“Because you’re a simpleton,” Victorique said melodiously.

Kazuya blinked in surprise. “Is that so?”

“It definitely is so.”

Exasperated, Kazuya returned his gaze to the documents. “Well then, please enlighten me, the most knowledgeable person in Brooklyn. What is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you remember the truth behind the Wall Street Trial Rhapsody?” She was still singing the words.

Then, she stopped. Curious, Kazuya listened carefully. Plop.

“That case is within Boleid’s purview,” Victorique groaned.

“Within Boleid’s purview, you say?”

“Yes. The man mistook the sound of a typewriter for a gunshot because of the guilt towards his sister that he buried deep inside. It’s fair to say it’s a typical case of the so-called science of the mind.”

“What do you mean?”

Victorique hummed thoughtfully, the sound of water continuing softly in the background.

“Dr. Boleid’s research can be broadly divided into two categories: Psychoanalysis and Dream Interpretation. If you absolutely insist, I will explain psychoanalysis to you.”

“S-Sure.”

“For example, let’s say you’re afraid of cats for no apparent reason,” Victorique began. “Despite everyone else finding them cute, you’re extremely averse to them. So you undergo counseling with Dr. Boleid, delve into forgotten memories from the past. And then, you remember! That when you were a child, you had a terrifying experience of being scratched by a cat!”

“I see. So that’s how I ended up being afraid of cats. But I had completely forgotten about the incident that caused it.”

“That’s right!” Victorique confirmed, resuming her singsong tone. Kazuya almost fell off his chair. “Now you know why you’re afraid of cats, but it still won’t fix your problem.”

“What? Not at all? Well, that’s disappointing.”

“There’s nothing you can do about it, okay?!”

“Okay, okay.”

“But it’s possible to reduce the inexplicable fear of an animal to simply a common misfortune caused by an incident in the past. By becoming aware of it, the patient can feel at ease. In other words, this is what Dr. Boleid advocates.”

“Yeah?”

“Therapy for the mind!” Victorique sang.

Kazuya almost fell off his chair again, but he managed to hold on.

Plop, plop.

“However, Dream Interpretation is a bit more complex.” Victorique adopted a colder tone.

“A-Ahuh.”

“According to Dr. Boleid, there’s a vast unconscious region in the mind. It stores various data that we usually forget. And during sleep, we release our mental wounds by accessing that region. Dreaming releases stress so we have energy when we are awake.”

“I think I understand. There are days when I’m tired and end up having nightmares as soon as I fall asleep.”

“Exactly,” Victorique agreed. “However, according to the doctor’s theory, problems don’t appear in dreams exactly as they are. For example, parental repression might appear as a majestic king, or doubts about a lover might turn into a dream about a notorious thief. Hence, you end up wondering what those weird dreams mean. What Dr. Boleid does is analyze what the dreams represent and clarify the subconscious worries you weren’t aware of. And that is…”

“Hmm?”

“Dream Interpretation!” Victorique hummed.

“That’s amazing. Learning the content of a dream and guessing the hidden meaning. That makes Dr. Boleid a dream detective. Right, Victorique? Even you can’t do what he does,” Kazuya said casually.

Suddenly, a displeased silence drifted from beyond the curtain. Kazuya wondered what happened.

The water made an eerie plop. She had stood up. Kazuya turned away from the curtain and buried his face in the documents.

“Of course I can!” Victorique exclaimed loudly. “There’s nothing in this world that Dr. Boleid can do and I can’t!”

“Is that so? Really?”

“Really!”

Victorique had ignited a sense of competition against someone she had not even met.

There was silence for a while. Kazuya flipped through documents, diligently jotting down with his pen.

Plop, plop.

Victorique seemed to be getting out of the bath. Kazuya paused, blushing, and fell silent.

Eventually, the lace curtain opened silently behind Kazuya, revealing the petite figure of Victorique. She wore a muslin nightgown with five-tiered frills on the sleeves and hem, fluffy and pure white. The collar was decorated with ivy and red berries, reminiscent of a Christmas wreath, and her slippers were adorned with multiple layers of lace and tulip ornaments. Her hair was wrapped in a white towel, still wet.

Turning bashfully, Kazuya watched as water droplets fell like jewels from her silver hair. He hurriedly fetched a towel.

“You’ll catch a cold, Victorique.”

He carefully wiped Victorique’s hair, soaking wet like a rain-drenched kitten. Victorique briefly closed her eyes in apparent distress, then suddenly opened them.

“Actually, Kujou.”

“Hmm?”

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

As soon as she emerged from the warm bath, Victorique’s voice reverted to its usual cold and sullen tone. Kazuya stared at her curiously.

Victorique looked up at his face. “The reason I was keeping watch on the street outside…”

Kazuya’s expression instantly turned serious.

“…was because I was worried about the strange client who came to the Gray Wolf Detective Agency.”

“A strange client?” Kazuya echoed.

At that moment, a marital quarrel erupted in the neighboring room, their voices growing louder and louder.

“You always come home drunk!”

“But it’s money I earned!”

“Are you serious?”

“Hey! Couple on the fourth floor! Can you shut up for even a night?!”

“Why don’t you put some money into expenses once in a while!”

“No way!”

Their voices were so loud that the walls seemed to shake. It was the type of disturbance common in immigrant apartments during the night. The caretaker came up to mediate, but it only seemed to make matters worse.

Meanwhile, the room on the fourth floor facing the street remained eerily quiet as always. Victorique, the little creature with flowing silver hair, and Kazuya, the faithful servant, holding a towel.

The fireplace crackled softly. Outside the window, the wintry wind howled fiercely, enveloping the room in a quiet chill.