"So, you want to shut down Stark's weapons manufacturing department?" Sōugo asked in a flat tone.
"But you shouldn't come to me about this," he continued before Stark could respond.
Stark wiped his forehead with a frustrated expression. "Because of your so-called good deeds, Pepper has received thousands of employee complaints," he said, as if blaming Sōugo.
"That's not the point," Sōugo replied casually. "If you want to talk, she's always willing to listen."
Stark remained silent, rubbing his nose, not answering. After a while, he finally said, "Alright, I know how much pressure this decision will put on her. I know I'm a selfish bastard. She's helped me a lot. But I have no other choice."
Sōugo opened the notebook in his hand and began jotting something down. "Let me guess. What you're trying to do now is basically like sentencing a gun to death."
"But my weapons have killed a lot of people."
"Weapons are made for that purpose. We can't choose a destiny for them. You can't expect all weapons to act like Jarvis, opening their mouths and protesting against you. Or do you think a bullet should refuse to be used to kill others on the battlefield?"
Stark sat silently across from him, not responding. In a weak voice, he finally said, "I admit that I blamed all of this on weapons because I knew that I was the culprit. But I can't judge myself."
"Mr. Tony Stark, you can't judge yourself. Not because you want to survive, but because you believe you have the ability to make up for everything. When there's a crisis, only you have the capability to save the world, to turn the tide. And out of this sense of responsibility, you do these things. But let me be blunt. Have you ever considered that always having to find a responsible person or thing to blame is an arbitrary and reckless idea?"
"But every incident always has a cause," Stark insisted.
"The root cause of an incident isn't necessarily right or wrong. You should know better that the world isn't just black and white. You found something you think should be responsible, but did it make things any better? You think weapons should take the blame. You want to shut down the entire weapons department, keep Pepper up for a few nights, put many employees out of work, and even those on the battlefield won't appreciate you. Is this worth it?"
Stark's expression twisted in pain. His entire face was almost wrinkled. "My brain tells me to think about right and wrong," he said.
"Well, in that case, your brain has to take responsibility for it. Your brain doesn't want to let you go, so go ahead and pick a fight with it. Isn't that the theory you insist on? Ask your brain if there's a way to achieve what you want without hurting those around you."
Stark didn't feel any better. He leaned back and said, "Look, I'm an idiot. I hired a devil doctor, a satanic psychologist. Your bullshit psychiatry has never brought me any positive changes, and every time I leave here, things only get worse." He almost gritted his teeth as he spoke.
Sōugo rarely joked, but this time he said with an annoying smirk, "You can think of me as a catalyst. You'll understand later. One day, you'll be much better than you are now. You'll thank me."
"If you keep talking like this, you'll almost surpass Howard's place in my heart."
"This is the first time I've heard you mention your father. Strange. When people are in pain, they usually call for their mother."
"..."
Stark slammed the table hard. He didn't want to admit that he mentioned his father because he felt uncomfortable. He wasn't some fledgling bird that needed shelter, nor an eagle that leapt off a cliff and never came back. He wasn't supposed to think of his father in moments of despair and pain.
"Maybe that's why you build mechas for yourself. When you wear that iron shell, you think it's the only thing that can protect you, and only when you wear it are you at your best. The mighty Iron Man. But I have to say this. If you never learn to take it off, you will never become a true Iron Man."
Sōugo had thought about it before. Stark and Batman's childhoods and educational backgrounds were bizarrely similar. The methods they chose were strikingly alike—they created a bunch of weapons for themselves. When they had them, they felt powerful. But when they realized that wasn't enough to solve all their problems, they struggled.
Sōugo resumed writing in his notebook. Stark squinted. "What are you writing?"
"Steve's psychological treatment is temporarily over, so Natasha reactivated the monitor. I have to write your case report manually."
"Did you write down everything I just said?"
"Not everything. But I remember very clearly the part where you called 'Your Daddy.'"
"Five million dollars."
Sōugo immediately tossed the notebook in front of Stark. Stark grabbed a lighter and burned the pages. He muttered under his breath, "Why did I ever believe in the evil of a damn vampire psychologist?"
"It's getting late. Your argument with Miss Pepper won't end if you keep hiding here," Sōugo said casually.
"That spider kid can live with you. Why can't I? I don't even mind your crappy place, and you should be honored to do something for the genius Stark. What about breakfast?"
"Yeah, and meanwhile, Miss Pepper is working overtime alone at Stark Tower. The staff has already left, the building is dark and cold… Oh, maybe Jarvis is with her. I heard Jarvis has feelings too. Maybe he understands Miss Pepper's sorrow better than you do."
Stark immediately became restless. He jumped up from his chair, grabbed his jacket, and said, "I will never be jealous of my smart butler. Never."
"Yes, of course, of course. God bless Jarvis."