Unholy Player-Chapter 142: I’m Not a Psychopath (Part 1)

Adyr closed the tabs on his computer and stood up to answer the door, expecting someone from the department handling Spark research. But it didn’t take long for him to realize the visitor wasn’t who he had anticipated.

"Hello, Mr. Adyr. I’m Dr. Conrad Halberstam from the Psychology Department. If you’re available, I’d like to have a brief conversation," said the man in a calm, warm tone. He appeared elderly, with neatly trimmed white hair, a clean-shaven face, a slightly hunched posture, and wore a white lab coat over formal clothing. His glasses caught the hallway light as he looked at Adyr with composed professionalism.

"Hello. I wasn’t expecting you, Doctor," Adyr replied with a polite smile.

And he truly hadn’t been. But he could guess why the man was here.

If Neris had returned, then it meant the entire STF team sent on the mission had likely come back, and everything that happened out there had probably been reported in detail to headquarters.

So they want to be sure I’m not a psychopath, Adyr thought.

The entire STF unit had witnessed what he’d done to Cannibal. And that wasn’t the only incident.

A civilian from the village—Zelda’s father—was missing and never found. The only account in the report noted what Adyr had told the girl: that her father had left the village. Nothing more.

At Cannibal’s fortress, the condition of the outer guards had drawn attention. Each had died in ways that went beyond mere efficiency—torturous, drawn-out deaths that suggested cruelty rather than necessity.

And the events in the butchery room—those had crossed into a level of calculated horror that only the most disturbed minds could conceive.

Adyr had used the corpses of mutants, arranged them like lifelike mannequins, and turned them into bait. All without a flicker of hesitation.

Considering all of this had been done by an 18-year-old with no military background, who had joined the PTF only recently, it was natural that some would begin to question his psychological profile.

After all, if Adyr truly was a blood-hungry psychopath, this wasn’t a minor concern. It meant a highly capable individual, wielding mutant and Spark-level powers, could one day spiral out of control. And if that happened, the consequences would be catastrophic.

"Don’t worry. This is just a routine check," the doctor said professionally. "You’ve just returned from your first mission, and we want to make sure you’re doing well, physically and mentally."

But Adyr could see through the polished tone. He’d been here before.

Back in his previous life, after his arrest, before the execution, numerous psychologists and psychiatrists had tried to interview him. They wanted to understand what had shaped him. Papers had been written, books published, and academic studies conducted.

Even after his death, his brain had been preserved and studied at one of the top neurological institutes. His life became a subject of global fascination—films, documentaries, even serialized dramas based on his crimes and psychology.

Not that Adyr knew any of it. He had died and awakened in this new life, free of all that noise.

"Sure, Dr. Halberstam. Why don’t you come in? We can talk more comfortably inside," Adyr said, stepping aside with a composed smile.

"Please, call me Conrad. I don’t want this conversation to feel like it’s happening in a lab," the doctor replied with a friendly grin as he entered.

Adyr closed the door behind him and asked if he’d like something to drink. When the answer was no, he led the way to the seating area in the corner and took a seat across from him.

"Mr. Adyr, I heard you did a remarkable job out there," Dr. Conrad said warmly. "It’s not just that you’re so young and inexperienced—it was your first mission. But your achievement truly impressed us. It brought a sense of relief to many."

He smiled sincerely. "For that, I’d like to thank you, not just as a researcher, but as a citizen of this shelter city."

Adyr gave a slight nod and replied in a composed tone. "Thank you, Doctor. But I must say, I didn’t do it purely to protect the city. My main motivation was to create a safe place for my mother and sister to live comfortably."

His gaze dropped for a moment, a subtle flicker of guilt crossing his face, as if admitting such a personal, self-serving reason made him feel exposed. Exactly what he wanted to show to the man in front of him.

Dr. Conrad noticed the reaction and nodded thoughtfully. His smile softened, becoming more natural. The answer reassured him. Seeing that Adyr hadn’t developed a hero complex despite gaining power so quickly was a good sign. That kind of sudden psychological shift often revealed instability rather than strength.

"It’s perfectly normal to want to protect your loved ones," he said. "And it’s a bonus that your actions ended up helping many others feel safer in this city."

"Thank you, Dr. Conrad," Adyr replied, his voice lighter now. He smiled, calm, as though getting the words out had lifted something off his chest.

"There is one thing that concerns me," the doctor continued, adjusting his glasses with a sharper focus. "A civilian from the village was reported missing. I saw your statement saying he ’left the village.’ Could you clarify exactly what you meant by that?"

It was a critical question. STF operations placed high value on civilian lives. Even if someone had committed a crime, the standard protocol was arrest and return to the city for proper legal processing. Unexplained disappearances were never taken lightly.

"Yeah, sure," Adyr replied evenly. "When I first arrived, I encountered a girl, Zelda. While the rest of the villagers avoided me, she was the only one willing to speak."

He paused, his expression thoughtful.

"But not long after, her father suddenly showed up. He didn’t say a word, just grabbed her and pulled her back into their house. He looked... scared. Not of me, exactly—but of the fact that Zelda had talked to me."

Dr. Conrad listened closely, his posture still, his expression unreadable.

"Later, toward evening, I saw Zelda alone again in her yard. Her father was nowhere to be seen. And at that point, I understood what had happened."

Adyr’s tone stayed steady, his delivery clean—neither defensive nor evasive.

"My guess is, he thought his daughter had shared something she shouldn’t have. He probably feared Cannibal’s group would punish him for it. I assumed he ran out of fear."

He paused, then added, "I handed the girl over to the STF unit. I didn’t think it was right to leave her alone in that situation. I hope she’s alright now?"

He delivered the final line with a careful balance of concern—subtle enough to feel sincere, steady enough to be convincing.

Dr. Conrad, finding no inconsistencies with the official reports, gave a satisfied nod.

"I understand. Thank you for the clarification, Mr. Adyr. And yes, you’ll be glad to know the girl is doing well. She’s now at the city orphanage, adjusting to her new life. From what I’ve heard, she’s happy and being well cared for."

Upon hearing that, a visible ease settled over Adyr’s face. "That’s good," he murmured.

Of course, everything he had said up to that point was true—at least in part. He had simply left out a few small details.

Like the fact that Zelda’s father hadn’t actually run away. He had died by Adyr’s hands.

But there was no reason to mention that. Some things were better kept to himself. And he understood which truths were best left unsaid.

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