Strongest Maniac: Born in an Asylum

The doctors and orderlies were on high alert, as if facing a formidable enemy. They tried to coax the ringleaders, Leo and Walter, like they were coaxing children.

These two were regulars at the mental asylum.

"We want this!" Leo shouted.

"You have to give it to us!" Walter held his head high, puffed out his chest, as if afraid people wouldn't know he was one of the leaders.

The doctors and orderlies huddled together, whispering.

"What do they want?"

"I think that O—O is probably two eggs and a sausage."

"Then what's the other 0?"

"I think the 0 is much thinner than the O, so it must be a quail egg."

"I see, so they're hungry."

Working in a mental asylum, the doctors' and orderlies' thinking had been elevated. Everything had to be interpreted through the lens of food.

A senior doctor bravely stepped forward, raising his hands to signal for quiet. He then took a sip of hot water from his thermos, cleared his throat, and said, "We've seen your demands, and we understand."

"Rest assured, we can satisfy you. Two boiled eggs, one sausage, and one quail egg for each person."

The crowd of mental patients who had been following Leo and the others cheered.

"We get to eat eggs!"

"We get to eat sausages!"

"And quail eggs! But what are quail eggs?"

"You're so stupid. A quail egg is an egg from a quail."

"Oh, I see."

They had followed Leo and Walter to protest for something.

What did they want?

They didn't know, and they didn't know what they needed.

Anyway, it was good to follow.

It was a lot of fun.

Now they could get eggs, sausages, and quail eggs, which made them very happy.

"We don't want these things!" Leo shouted.

"We want this!" Walter pointed at the content on the paper and said.

The senior doctor was completely bewildered. The first few words on the paper, though crooked, were not hard to understand, but the rest was very difficult to decipher. He asked in a low voice, "What do you want?"

Leo and Walter pointed at the paper and said, "We want this, this, this is it."

The doctors and orderlies were on the verge of collapse.

This?

What the hell is "this"? Can't you be more specific?

The senior doctor was experienced and skilled at communicating with mental patients. He was confident that he could communicate with them without any barriers, and even communicate smoothly.

This was the experience he had gained over 20 years in the medical field.

A rich harvest.

Not something young people could learn. They needed time to hone their skills.

"Alright, we can satisfy you, but what exactly is it you're asking for?" the senior doctor asked.

"This." Leo and Walter continued to point at the paper and say.

"But what exactly is 'this'?"

"It's this."

"Can you be more specific?"

"It's this."

"A little more specific."

"It's this."

...

As time went on, the surrounding air grew quiet. The once-confident senior doctor gradually lost his smile. He wasn't angry, but he had overestimated his ability to communicate smoothly with mental patients.

Looking at the thermos in his hand, he had the urge to smash it over his own head.

Who am I?

Where am I?

I'm in a mental asylum!

A young orderly comforted him, "Uncle, it's not your fault."

Indeed, it wasn't anyone's fault. It was just really hard to communicate. They just needed to say what it was, but they had to make it so complicated.

"The director is here!"

The arrival of Director Hess was undoubtedly a shot in the arm for them. Here, Director Hess was their faith. To them, there was no mental patient Director Hess couldn't communicate with.

At this moment, the white-haired Director Hess walked over with a heavy heart. Seeing the gazes of the doctors and orderlies, he slowly straightened up, a faint smile on his face.

He conveyed a sense of strength to them.

That strength was called calmness.

"Director, Leo and Walter need the things they wrote down, but we don't know what they want. We've asked many times, but they won't say. They just say it's 'this'," a doctor said.

Director Hess nodded. "Let me handle it."

Then, Director Hess maintained a certain distance from Leo and the others. Although they seemed unarmed, close contact was dangerous. No one knew what would happen.

"What do you want?" Director Hess asked.

"We want this," Leo and Walter said, pointing at the paper.

Any normal person seeing this scene would definitely collapse. Can't you just say what you want? You're just pointing at this paper, three words, two pictures.

We want O—O, 0.

Damn it.

Who the hell can understand this?

If anyone could understand it, they wouldn't be praised for their intelligence. Instead, they would be quietly given a special room in the mental asylum, invited to have a seat, have a good chat, and if possible, get a check-up and a small certificate, a glorious addition to their life's record.

Director Hess glanced at it and said, "No."

"We want this," Leo and Walter said in unison. At this moment, their minds were connected, their demand was unified: they wanted this.

The crowd of mental patients who had been following them, not knowing what they wanted, also shouted, "We want this!"

Director Hess was so tired.

His March 1st birthday was a farce. He hadn't been able to enjoy the joy of his birthday at all.

Thinking about his age.

Thinking about his workplace.

He even wondered how many more birthdays he could celebrate.

"Quiet! Everyone, be quiet!"

Director Hess regretted his career choice.

He had two options.

One was to be a prison warden.

The other was to be the director of a mental asylum.

He chose the mental asylum.

If he had chosen to be a prison warden, even if this situation occurred, it would be easy to handle. Call the guards, get your dragon-subduing batons, and beat them…

But now…

They're all a vulnerable group.

How could I hit them?

To be honest, Director Hess was scared. You never knew what a mental patient would do next. If you used force, they could turn into superheroes, open the gas stove, calmly smoke a cigarette, and take you down with them.

Or they could take a knife, cut themselves first to see if it was sharp enough, and then come after you.

These things had all happened in the history of mental illness.

A true mental patient would definitely hurt themselves before hurting others.

Because they were also curious.

They wanted to know if it hurt.

Seeing that the situation was getting out of control, Director Hess took a step back. A calm sea awaits.

"Alright, give it back to them."

"Little Lee, go get the things for them." Director Hess just wanted his March 1st birthday to pass peacefully. He wanted to go back to his office, eat a piece of cake, make a cup of goji berry and red date tea, listen to some music, and lament where all the time had gone…

Doctor Lee was dumbfounded. "Director, get what?"

"Dumbbells, punching bag," Director Hess said, his heart weary. There were so many people in this mental asylum, and he was the only one who could understand what the mental patients meant. How tiring.

Can anyone help me?

I, Director Hess, will thank your ancestors for eighteen generations.