Why Not, Create a World — Part 6

Hypnosis ended.

I first said goodbye to the suspect while playing the role of a god, then performed a brief act before returning to the role of a psychologist to say goodbye once more.

In the room beside the interrogation room, the officer spoke.

“Damn, doc. You really pulled that off.”

I handed over the assessment report and replied, “Thank you. I have an idea. This time, no charge.”

The moment those words left my mouth, the officer leaned forward with sudden energy.

“There we go,” he said. “That line again.”

I looked at him, confused.

He continued, “Every time you grow interested in a case, you say the same thing. ‘No charge.’”

He jerked his thumb toward the interrogation room.

“Let me guess. You want to hear about his mother’s situation.”

I raised my eyebrows in an exaggerated show of surprise and copied his tone.

“Damn, officer. You really are something.”

He laughed, loud and unrestrained.

“Colleague told me,” he said.

The tension in the room eased. After the laughter faded, the officer stood up.

“Let’s move somewhere else. They’ll need this room again soon.”

I nodded and followed him to a conference room down the hall.

Once we sat down, he began recounting what had happened to the suspect’s mother.

Like in many stories, she needed the money too much to quit. The factory owner noticed her situation and kept assigning her heavier workloads. Most people in her position would have gone to the union. She chose to endure everything instead.

Reality, however, refused to follow the usual script of cruel bosses and noble workers.

In addition to the crushing workload, she also faced deliberate hostility from her coworkers.

Those who knew her habits best understood exactly how to make her suffer.

The factory issued thick gloves that trapped heat. She always prepared her tools and station first before putting the gloves on.

One coworker hid her tools beneath a pair of gloves. From the outside, nothing seemed out of place. Only after lifting the gloves would she discover the tools hidden underneath.

After each break, she would search frantically when she could not find her tools. Because she refused to wear the gloves until everything was ready, she never discovered what lay beneath them. The situation formed a closed loop that only someone familiar with her routine could have created.

She faced similar traps almost every day.

I interrupted without thinking.

“Why?” I asked. “They were all struggling. Why hurt each other like that?”

The officer let out a long breath.

“The boss used her as an example,” he said. “He told the others that anyone unwilling to work overtime could leave. The factory only wanted people like her — workers who would push themselves without complaint.”

I spoke quietly.

“So the others started seeing her as the problem.”

He nodded.

“This case ended with the factory receiving punishment,” he said. “But the coworkers… there was nothing we could do about them.”

I stayed silent for a moment.

The officer studied me.

“What are you thinking?”

I answered honestly.

“In a way, she also made things harder for the others. By accepting everything without resistance, she gave the boss more power to pressure everyone else.”

He looked thoughtful.

“Then why didn’t she go to the union?”

“Maybe by then, she had already stopped believing anyone outside could help,” I said. “A single mother raising a child with an intellectual disability… after enough hardship, some people close themselves off completely.”

I paused before adding another possibility.

“Or maybe she once trusted the union, only to realize many unions in this country lack real power to protect workers.”

I glanced at him.

“Do you know where unions originally came from?”

He gave me a wary look.

“Are you testing me? I should know this… from school, I think.”

I smiled despite myself.

He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed.

I took out my phone and searched for the answer right in front of him.

He stared for a second, then let out a short laugh.

“You didn’t know either.”

I slipped the phone back into my pocket.

“The topic felt heavy,” I said. “I wanted to lighten the mood.”

He was still on the clock. I had already taken enough of his time.

“Thank you for speaking with me,” I said. “I should head out.”

He offered to walk me to the parking lot.

As we passed the interrogation room, I glanced inside out of curiosity. Another group had already taken over the space.

I stopped and pointed at the room.

“What do you think?” I asked. “Will he end up in jail?”

The officer held up the report I had given him earlier. A crooked smile appeared on his face.

“That depends on what you wrote in here.”

I kept my expression calm and offered only a faint smile. Inside, I thought, He won’t.

After leaving the station, I drove in silence.

The officer’s final expression stayed with me. He had never once opened the report, yet he spoke with complete certainty about the outcome.

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel and gave a helpless, wry smile.

No wonder they came to me for this case.