North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws

"That prison experiment... the one that explores human nature?" A strange glint flashed in Dean's eyes.

The Stanford Experiment existed in both his previous life and this one. It primarily used a prison setting to test the psychological changes between the 'guards,' representing the rulers, and the 'prisoners,' representing the ruled. In this world, the Stanford Experiment was even bloodier, and its results were particularly cruel. The experiments often ended with a total collapse of order. When you could do whatever you wanted... those 'guards,' initially well-educated, amiable, and highly self-controlled individuals, would gradually succumb to the false pleasure of controlling others' fates. They would descend into meaningless mockery, humiliation, and even physical and psychological abuse far exceeding what some actual villains were capable of—it was truly disgusting. After the experiments ended, most of those playing the guards devolved into thugs and criminals, unable to escape the moral decay triggered by the brief experiment. Unfortunately for them, the real world didn't indulge such behavior. Consequently, these individuals were either shot dead or imprisoned. As for those who played the 'prisoners,' after the initial phase of differentiation, some suffered mental breakdowns and developed psychological illnesses. Others chose submission, willingly becoming puppets for the 'guards.' They progressed from initial reluctance to self-soothing brainwashing, eventually deriving satisfaction from being exploited, humiliated, and abused. Even after the experiment concluded, they couldn't escape this pathological mindset. Ultimately, pressured by societal judgment, they reluctantly chose suicide. Due to its excessive violence and detrimental consequences, the experiment was abruptly halted in 1979. It subsequently became an unforgettable case study in psychology textbooks. Since then, the first page of every introductory psychology book in this world has featured the quote: 'When you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.' In layman's terms, it means that those who manipulate the hearts of others will eventually become slaves to their own hearts and suffer the backlash.

Daniel's brief statement was all it took for Dean to understand Mike Smith's mindset.

That bastard, Dean realized, wasn't trying to revive the fading 'Source of Pain' organization at all; he was merely indulging his own twisted, selfish desires.

Daniel's subsequent words confirmed Dean's suspicions.

"Initially, we didn't understand. But once we each achieved a certain level of expertise in psychology, we figured out the game Mike Smith was playing. By then, however, we had become just like him. We knew we weren't normal, but that psychological state, like a drug, compelled us to keep following his script.

"We'd often meet in a secret place to torment each other, heal, indulge our desires, or conduct extreme experiments on human nature using ourselves as subjects. Some even contracted AIDS as a result. But none of us cared. We accepted Mike Smith's brainwashing, sinking deeper step by step, until we genuinely believed our physical bodies were mere vessels for sin, destined for destruction. That is, until Mike Smith's son grew up."

Daniel paused. "I'd like another cigarette."

"No problem!"

Dean readily produced a cigarette, placed it between her lips, and lit it.

After taking a deep drag, Daniel continued, "That was twenty days ago. By then, we old members of the Source of Pain had already gone our separate ways. We were all in different places, secretly doing the same things Mike Smith had done before. The only difference was that our experimental subjects were now homeless black children.

"Beyond that, every January, we'd return to our old secret meeting place to share our respective 'gains' from the past year. We were like a pack of twisted deviants; it seemed this was the only way we could find any sort of camaraderie. But at this year's gathering, there was a problem."

"What problem?"

"Little Mike grew up," Daniel said with a self-deprecating laugh. "We were furious that Mike Smith had twisted our lives, while his son, simply because he had autism, got to escape the same fate."

As children grow, they naturally develop a rebellious streak. The same was true for Daniel and her group. They had become what Mike Smith molded them to be, but now they were gradually slipping from his control. Pressured by Daniel's group, Mike Smith was forced to go back and bring his son and their family dog to the secret society's hideout. Then, in front of his twelve-year-old autistic son, he slowly tortured the dog to death.

Daniel exhaled a plume of smoke. "Due to our respective jobs, we only instructed Mike Smith to do it; we didn't monitor the entire process. This gave him a sliver of false hope. The bastard put a blindfold and earplugs on his son, made a show of torturing their Akita, then sent us the video. He even, quite uncharacteristically, apologized to us. He was scared! He didn't want to play this game anymore!"

At this, Daniel began to laugh, a near-hysterical, scornful sound. The lit cigarette tumbled from her lips, landing on her, searing her skin, but she paid it no mind, the smell of burning flesh rising with her laughter. "That idiot! He had no idea we'd rigged the society's hideout with countless hidden cameras. His attempt at deception was nothing more than a clown's act to us!"

Her laughter devolved into sobs, tears streaming down her face. "It's actually a very desperate feeling, you know? That bastard dragged us into a game with no way out, and then he tried to bail midway, all because of his autistic son! It infuriated us."