Chapter 207: The True Hermaphrodite

2022-05-20

“Hermaphrodite?” The two of them clearly hadn’t followed my line of thought and both gasped in surprise. They couldn’t wrap their heads around how I’d arrived at that conclusion.

Seeing the bewilderment in their eyes, I explained, “That’s right, our killer is likely a hermaphrodite. And that might be the very root of why they’ve developed multiple personalities. We all know the timelines for these three stories overlap. The killer murdered the woman boss in the second story first, then killed the two office workers from the first story.”

They both nodded.

I went on, “When the killer murdered the family of three in the second story, he’d already been living in the sewer for quite some time. And looking at all three locations, the distances are huge. That’s why Xiao Liu always suspected there were multiple culprits. Otherwise, why would one person go to such lengths, crossing so much distance, just to kill?”

It was as if my words struck a chord with Gu Chen. He spoke up, “Exactly, that’s pretty much how I saw it too. But later it clicked for me—the killer’s mind just isn’t wired like a normal person’s. If we could figure out how he thinks, we’d be just like him.”

I replied, “But it’s not just that. The killer has multiple personalities. It’s like there are several souls living inside one body, yet none of them sees the others. So each time the killer wakes up, he doesn’t even know where he is. Each soul only gets to control the body for a while, and none of them want their secrets discovered by the others.”

Mary picked up where I left off, “I’ve run into a case like this before. It’s definitely possible. What you’re saying is, during different murders, different souls in his body took control? So that’s why some of the killings are bizarre and outlandish while others are brutal, or even shockingly direct and terrifyingly methodical?”

I snapped my fingers and said, “Why does the killer write stories?”

My question sent the two of them deep into thought. Truth is, I’d been mulling over this for a while—why write stories at all? But it’s not like the killer followed the timeline of the stories when committing the murders. Plus, at the end of each story, the killer would leave a string of English letters. Only now did I finally get it.

The stories aren’t for us. They’re not for anyone else either. They’re for the killer himself. The writing is there to remind himself that these people have already been killed by one of his other personalities, so the rest shouldn’t appear at that location anymore.

Almost to myself, I said, “I think some of the personalities can actually see each other.”

Imagine going to sleep in bed, then waking up walking down a street. Or chatting happily with friends, only to find yourself suddenly back home. One moment you’re in this city, the next, you have no idea where you are.

Given enough time, a clever person would notice something was wrong with his own body. I think the one writing these stories is the smart one—he realized there were other personalities living in his body. Down in the sewer, I was lucky enough to meet three of the killer’s personalities.

And the one who attacked Zhao Mingkun must’ve been the fourth—a personality the others call Yama. As the killer grew older, these personalities probably started becoming aware of each other’s existence.

But someone willing to murder others might also eventually look for a chance to kill off the other personalities inside himself.

While we were talking, Guan Zengbin walked in. She gave a huge yawn and said, “I could hear you guys from the dorm. What are all of you doing up so late instead of sleeping?”

I shared my theory with Guan Zengbin, and suddenly she perked up, saying, “Wu Meng, I know you’ve picked up a lot of psychology, but most of it’s stuff you heard from others when you were a kid. If your speculation is correct, what you’re describing is called dissociative identity disorder, not schizophrenia.”

“Is there really a difference?” I scratched my head, honestly never having thought about it.

Guan Zengbin sat down on the bed, wrapping an arm around Mary and explained, “Of course they’re different. Schizophrenia usually looks like this: the person is extremely introverted, cold, and withdrawn, barely speaks to anyone. They’re expressionless, can’t communicate emotions properly, and act in odd ways.”

“Multiple personalities, though, are easier to grasp.” She leaned against Mary and continued, “It’s when a person has several distinct personalities coexisting in one body. Some of them may know about the others, but some might not. These personalities can vary wildly—not just in gender or age, but even height or weight, though that only happens in their minds.”

She added, “Of course, the killer being 1.7 meters tall wouldn’t magically become 1.8 in another personality. But you’ve probably heard how belief shapes the body. If someone’s convinced they have cancer, their cells can waste away for no medical reason. Or if someone truly believes they’re super strong, they can go beyond their normal physical limits.”

I nodded along, “So that explains how the killer had the strength to stab a steel rod through both bodies.”

Guan Zengbin nodded as well.

I pressed on, “And I also think the killer is a hermaphrodite.”

Guan Zengbin frowned.

“Medically speaking, that’s possible,” I added.

After pausing for a moment, she said, “Yes, medically, it happens. In fact, strictly speaking, humans have seven biological sexes. In addition to the regular male and female, there are five more.”

“That many?” I was shocked—a single question had led us into medical territory.

Guan Zengbin shrugged and explained, “Put simply, there’s male outside with female inside, male outside with neither inside, female outside with male inside, female outside with neither inside.”

“And then there’s one more,” she said, holding up a finger. “The true hermaphrodite.”

Hearing her, we all frowned. My theory was just a hunch—the idea that the killer might be male sometimes and female at others. But I never thought it could go this deep.

Like a teacher with her students, Guan Zengbin said, “True hermaphroditism isn’t that rare. Among them, sixty percent have a 46XX chromosome type, thirty percent have 46XY, and ten percent are the unusual XXXY chimeras.”

None of it made sense to me—it just sounded like a blur of science.

Guan Zengbin spread her hands, “To put it simply, true hermaphrodites have a high risk of certain cancers. Those with XX are better off getting surgery and living as a woman. XY types are suited to become men. Since there are more XX cases, surgery is safer, so doctors often advise both types to choose to live as women. The survival rate is higher that way.”

“What about XXYY?” I asked.

“They’re much rarer, and there’s still debate among doctors about what causes it. Think of twins—identical or fraternal. Identical twins are one egg split in two, fraternal twins are two eggs fertilized separately. If one egg can split into two, two can also merge into one.”

“Basically, fraternal twins fuse during development, ending up with two sets of DNA in one person.”

I nodded, half-understanding.

She continued, “The other possibility is fusion into a single embryo. Whichever it is, this condition is incredibly rare—one in a million. If the killer really has this, then they are both man and woman at the same time.”

I slapped my leg and said, “Xiao Liu’s always been sharp and careful. If he’s not sure of something, he rarely jumps to conclusions. When he was with us, he didn’t seem to do much, but once he’s on his own, he sees things crystal clear. He must’ve found another set of DNA on those broken fragments. That’s why he was so sure there were multiple killers.”

“And,” I added, “Xiao Liu is ambitious, but when it comes to human life, he’s anything but reckless. That means he’s certain he can catch those killers—before they strike again. But in reality, Xiao Liu’s chasing the wrong lead. He can’t possibly catch the killer, and without a key clue, neither can we.”

I frowned, growing serious. “That means we need to look into that fragment right now. If Xiao Liu could see something there, we should be able to figure something out too.”

“You mean go now?” Gu Chen glanced around. “You guys don’t need any sleep?”

Guan Zengbin said, “Forget sleep. If we wait until tonight, the killer will strike again. We can’t let that happen.”