After quickly finishing his dinner, Arthur went into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and let the water flow. Then, he sat cross-legged on the floor, allowing the stream of water from the showerhead to flow directly down onto his head.
Then, he closed his eyes.
It looked silly, but this was actually one of the most ancient methods of training concentration, and it was still useful today: meditation.
In psychology, although there are still many schools of thought debating the nature of the mind and what it truly is, Arthur mostly ignored those arguments. For him, the mind could be simply divided into two parts: external and internal.
The external, as the name suggests, receives information and influences from the outside world through the five senses. This information is then filtered and analyzed internally, which is the internal part. The internal also acts as the template for thinking and thoughts, the source of the subject's external behavior.
That's why a "thought" can be "touched," because thoughts are projected into reality. Emotions are similar, which is why the field of psychology has something to study and verify.
Motivation is the nature of behavior.
This connection is very important in shaping one's mindset. However, sometimes this is a hindrance because the external mind is always receiving too much, too cluttered information, so most people cannot process all of it, even after it has been filtered. This results in a continuous stream of short-term, shallow thoughts—a constant state of thinking, but it's only like a light breeze, without any weight or depth.
Therefore, concentration is needed.
Arthur chose to meditate because he needed to sink deep into his internal mind. He "cut off" his sense of sight by closing his eyes. He "cut off" his sense of hearing with the continuous and monotonous sound of the running water, just like how hypnotists use the ticking of a pendulum clock to "soften" the ear's ability to receive sound, making it only able to listen to a single sound without any static.
The two senses that receive the most information were now limited.
The three remaining senses were taste, touch, and smell. The bathroom was a clean, enclosed space with no strange odors. He wasn't eating anything and had cleaned his mouth. As for his sense of touch, he just let the continuous impact of the water on his body limit it.
Now, all five senses had been "cut off."
The external mind was closed.
Only the internal mind remained, the world of pure thought.
The world in Arthur's perception no longer seemed like a small bathroom. It had expanded, becoming the interior of a church.
It was the very church where the murder had occurred.
Here, Arthur was no longer using the perspective of someone who had come to observe. Instead, he used the perspective of an outsider, re-enacting everything as a perfect play in which he wanted to witness what happened behind the scenes.
He was re-creating the "room."
In fact, Arthur's method was inspired by one of the most familiar things that happens during sleep: dreams.
Sleep is also the state where humans are closest to a complete break from the external world, with only the internal remaining. At that time, dreams appear as the only reality in the mind, a world so unique and real that few people can recognize it as a dream until they wake up—a world sculpted by the thoughts, imagination, memories, and perceptions of the dreamers.
Even ordinary people can dream, which shows how high the potential and limits of anyone can be.
But when they wake up, the external world once again regains balance and disturbs the internal, and they are once again trapped in the cage of shallowness and limitation, unable and unwilling to remember how far and meticulously their minds had once imagined a world.
Is a statue created, or was it already within the stone?
Returning to Arthur, in his mind, the church scene began to shift.
Late at night, in a place where no one could see or know, a knock echoed from outside the church.
The priest, with his kind and devoted nature, went out to open the door, completely unaware that he was welcoming a killer.
According to the crime scene investigation, no footprints of the priest were found leading to the confessional. The conversation between him and the killer was confined to the space within the church, near the entrance.
The two talked happily.
The priest hugged the killer, but at that very moment, the killer, with a syringe full of poison, raised it and injected it into the victim's neck. The mark of the needle piercing the skin was confirmed by the forensics team.
The priest quickly realized what was happening, but to the killer's surprise, he did not resist. His compassion was greater than his instinctive desire to survive.
Having lived a life of piety, he felt no regret in dying. He even felt pity for the killer, and so he simply passed away, leaving no signs of a struggle.
Perhaps even the killer was surprised.
Arthur now had a clear thought.
There was no way the killer knew the victim wouldn't resist, even if they were acquaintances, because challenging instinct is the most foolish thing to do. He didn't think the killer—the one who had created this murder plan—would risk it.
Therefore, the killer must have been wearing some kind of clothing that made them completely unafraid of any resistance the victim might put up.
It couldn't have been normal clothing like a coat, as it would still leave fabric fibers to be scratched off.
So, Arthur thought of a raincoat.
A raincoat is made of plastic, which is slippery and elastic. Even if scratched, the victim's nails would leave no clues, and of course, there would be no fabric fibers scattered at the scene. Furthermore, the loose design of a raincoat could help conceal a syringe more easily. This seemed to be the killer's best choice at the time.