American comic book: Transmigrated into Dior and adopted by the Wayne family

Hypnosis is common in Gotham in the future, and the Mad Hatter is one of the best at it.

But Dior never imagined that this technology, capable of implanting virtual personalities into normal people, already existed ten years ago.

It has to be Gotham.

"Thomas Wayne's medical notes document a method for treating mental illness."

"If a patient has bad thoughts or impulses, a special suggestion can be implanted to redirect those thoughts."

Dior cited numerous examples to explain in detail the cases of hypnotists treating obsessive-compulsive disorder.

It must be said that if Thomas Wayne had not inherited the Wayne Group, he would have been a very talented doctor.

The Wayne family's study was filled with his medical research notes and old books.

These are immense spiritual treasures, priceless gems.

During this period, Dior spent his time either taking extra classes or reviewing his notes, forcing himself to write them down even if he didn't understand them.

Who would have thought I'd need it today?

Harvey's mouth was slightly open as he listened to the series of cases, as if he were hearing gibberish.

But he understood one thing: this so-called spirit of the goat was man-made.

"Is hypnosis really that powerful?" He rubbed his nose. "Then why not use it to hypnotize beautiful women?"

Harvey scoffed dismissively; in his eyes, the hypnotist was a complete idiot.

Why would they send the spirit of the goat to hunt down the heirs of wealthy families? Isn't that insane?

You have the skills, why don't you go pick up a couple of beautiful women and have a wonderful encounter, instead of messing around with some goat spirit?

That's just sick!

Dio silently rolled his eyes. He had given up all hope for Xavi's old, underhanded way of thinking.

"What we need to do now is screen out those with a history of mental illness from your suspects. What mental illness did that 'Goat Spirit' from ten years ago have?"

Harvey's face immediately turned grim. Meeting Dio's gaze, he nodded:

"The records show that he had obsessive-compulsive disorder, and then he inexplicably became the spirit of the goat."

"We've found a clue. We've found that doctor from back then; he's probably the mastermind behind it all."

Dior curled his lip in disbelief, realizing that this seemingly insurmountable case was actually quite easy.

"This guy likes to target people from the lower class, especially those on the margins of society, such as laborers and porters."

"These people don't attract attention, and even a drastic change in their personality wouldn't get noticed, so this person must be..."

He lowered his head in deep thought, sketching out the outline of the mastermind in his mind stroke by stroke.

"She is a woman," Dio said slowly, his voice firm.

Harvey was taken aback: "How did you know?"

"Because men's anger is violent and direct."

Dior handed him a pen, gesturing for him to quickly take notes.

"Hanging up the corpse, changing its clothes, drawing symbols... this kind of ritual is the work of women."

"She has been in the industry for a long time and was humiliated by rich people when she was young, so she hates the rich. She may be from a minority group."

"They are good at packaging themselves and creating a persona, and they have a certain degree of popularity in many communities."

"Search all female doctors in Gotham with more than 15 years of experience who are qualified to hypnotize, and screen who treated the first Spirit of the Goat ten years ago."

Before he knew it, Dior had completely dissected a psychologically twisted woman from the inside out.

He suddenly realized that he had completely dissected a mysterious hypnotist just by looking at a file.

He used to think he was good at recognizing people and seeing through their talents, but now it seems that it's not that simple.

The pen fell.

The sound of the click was very noticeable in the quiet office area.

Harvey looked down and watched as the pen rolled twice on the floor and came to rest by the table leg.

He didn't pick it up; he just stared at the pen on the ground for a while before slowly uttering a sentence:

"Hold."

It was at this moment that Harvey finally realized that the gap between people can sometimes be greater than the gap between people and dogs.

Does Wayne's family have some kind of secret medicine that can make people smarter?

Why are Dio and Bruce so clever at only twelve years old?

When he was twelve, he would only hide in the basement and peek at the underwear of girls on the street.

Oh shit!

"A female doctor? A member of a minority group?"

Harvey rubbed his chubby face, trying to cheer himself up.

"Okay, okay, okay, I'll go look for it. What a crazy day. Fuck."

"Drink less, Harvey."

Dio watched his unsteady steps and casually turned on the radio next to him.

"Welcome to Gotham Channel 7's Goat Killer follow-up report."

"Today, Gotham's high society trembles in the shadow of the copycat killer's death."

"If you happen to be from a wealthy family or a member of high society, I recommend that you go to Switzerland to avoid the limelight."

"The Alps over there have beautiful scenery and a comfortable climate. Everyone is welcome to come and visit."

"Alright, that's all for today's program."

"Thanks to Alps Nature Parks Ltd. for their generous sponsorship."

"I'm your host, Naomi Kensington. See you next time."

When the news ended, Dior remained completely unmoved.

This is what Gotham is like.

Aside from reporting on the accidental death of a police officer, the media made fun of high society, and the reports were completely devoid of substance.

However, to deal with the Court of Owls, it is necessary to control a portion of the media.

But then a problem arises: Gothamites don't like watching it.

If you don't report on police officers dying in the line of duty, or on the philandering of the upper class, then sorry, nobody will read it.

"Damn Gotham."

Dior's face showed a worry that was beyond his years.

boom.

A muffled thud came from the evidence room next door, like something heavy had fallen from the shelf.

"Oh my god! Are you trying to make me lose my job?!"

A woman's voice broke down, filled with anxiety and anger.

Then came another rustling sound, as if someone was frantically picking something up.

Dior's brow twitched slightly, a fleeting look of curiosity crossing his face.

He turned his head to the side, his gaze falling on the half-open door of the evidence room.

He remembered that one of Harvey's girlfriends was a staff member in the evidence room.

"Why are you here giving me endless criticism and riddles! My God! Those riddles! Listen up! You're not going to steal my job!"

riddle?

Dior ran his finger along the rim of the coffee cup.

Edward Nigma?

The riddle is: Is a man arguing with a woman?

No, this is a one-sided insult that leaves them speechless.

He stood up and walked toward the evidence room, his footsteps making no sound on the ground.

He walked to the door and leaned against the wall to listen.

"No, no, no, I want you-----"

Edward's voice was extremely panicked, completely lacking his usual ease.

The woman opposite him looked completely bewildered.

"Uh, I mean, I need you to keep your job and do a good job here."

Edward's words were incoherent, and he felt his face burning hot, yet he couldn't help it.

"Uh, working here, Miss Collinger."

Collinger opened his mouth, looked at the bewildered expression on the face of the grown man in front of him, and sighed:

"You're really strange, Ed. Shall we leave now?"

Edward stood there, stunned. After a moment's hesitation, he dejectedly opened the door to the archives.

"I heard the sound of a heart breaking."

Dior emerged from the shadows, smiling with interest.

"Mr. Nigma."

Edward gritted his teeth, his previous bewildered expression vanishing instantly, and he forced a smile:

"Dio, is there something you need?"

"I'm fine. But rather—" Dio tilted his head, "Are you alright?"

"Of course I didn't---"

Edward instinctively wanted to refuse, but upon catching sight of Dio's handsome face, he hesitated for a moment, then lowered his voice.

"I've thought about it carefully, and it seems I do have something to do. Do you have time?"