"In 1973, a psychology professor at Stanford University named David Rosenhan conducted a bold experiment... He faked symptoms of mental illness to get admitted to a well-known psychiatric hospital in New York—and succeeded easily, fooling the staff completely."
"However, once inside, when he tried to prove he was sane, he found it was impossible."
"To make matters worse, the medication he was forced to take had significant side effects, slowly deteriorating his mental state. In the end, he appeared indistinguishable from a genuine patient."
"If his wife hadn't arrived just in time to rescue him according to their plan, who knows? He might have actually gone mad."
"This, my dear friends, is the famous 'Rosenhan Experiment.'"
"And what does it teach us? That even a renowned expert in psychology like Professor Rosenhan couldn't prove his own sanity. So tell me, Dr. Beth—how exactly am I supposed to prove mine?"
"Doctor Beth, you're really putting me through the wringer here!"
---
Clockworks Psychiatric Hospital, consultation room.
A man in his early thirties sat on a padded chair, dressed in blue-and-white striped hospital clothes. His features revealed a mixed European-Asian heritage, and his face wore a look of weary resignation.
Across from him sat a blonde woman in a standard white lab coat, calm and composed, pen in hand. A silver name tag on her chest read:
Dr. Caitlyn Beth.
As Sean—his current name—finished speaking, Dr. Beth simply listened in silence, occasionally scribbling notes on the patient chart in front of her.
Only after he fell quiet did she set her pen down and meet his eyes.
"Logically speaking, your statements are perfectly coherent. And I must say, your articulation surpasses that of most people I've ever spoken to, mentally ill or not..."
Sean braced himself. But… he thought.
Of course. The inevitable "but" came.
"But yesterday, you told me you were from France. That you're a well-known private detective. And that you had no idea how you ended up in this hospital after waking up here one morning. Is that correct?"
Sean's expression froze.
Because yes—he had said that. There was no denying it. The cameras in this office had recorded everything. If he tried to lie, Dr. Beth could have the footage pulled up in a heartbeat.
But how could he have known he had been transported into another world?
Yes. A classic isekai.
Sure, he was a veteran webnovel reader. But even with all that experience, nobody wakes up in a psych ward and immediately thinks, "Oh, I must have been isekai'd."
There wasn't even a mirror in his room. In his initial confusion and rage, he hadn't even noticed that his body wasn't his own anymore.
It wasn't until that first meeting with Dr. Beth that things began to click. That night, fragments of memory started surfacing—memories belonging to this body's original owner. That was how he learned about his new identity, his situation… and the mess he was in.
Unfortunately, that revelation had come too late.
In Dr. Beth's eyes, he was just another alternate personality of Ray—the name of this body's original owner—who had crafted a delusional French detective identity.
And to be fair, her conclusion wasn't far-fetched. After all, Ray had been admitted to this psychiatric hospital for dissociative identity disorder—what laymen called schizophrenia.
And really, a patient claiming to be a private detective from France? That wasn't even the weirdest thing in here. Some patients claimed to be God. Others Satan. A few insisted they were aliens.
In comparison, a suave French detective persona was almost tame.
Which was the problem.
Because no matter what he said or did, he couldn't convince Dr. Beth he was sane. And he couldn't tell her the truth, either.
What was he supposed to say? "Hi, I'm from another dimension. Nice to meet you."
Even if she believed him—which she almost certainly wouldn't—he'd be painting a target on his back. He'd be dragged into things far worse than daily therapy sessions.
Because based on the fragments of memory he'd absorbed, this world wasn't just some ordinary Earth.
This was Marvel.
Yes, that Marvel.
He hadn't confirmed exactly which version yet, but one thing was certain: this world had supernatural powers.
And if he started talking about being from another universe, and someone actually believed him? He'd have the entire underground and superhuman world knocking at his door.
Best-case scenario: he'd be a lab rat.
So no. That option was off the table.
Which left him… this. Trying to outwit Dr. Beth and fake his way out of here.
But unfortunately, Dr. Beth was far more difficult to manipulate than he had expected.
Damn it!
"I can explain what I said yesterday…" he began, ready to launch into a half-baked excuse he'd prepared.
Dr. Beth, however, cut him off without hesitation.
"Let's not talk about yesterday."
Sean didn't feel relieved. Quite the opposite. His instincts told him something worse was coming.
And he was right.
"I know, Dr. Ray, that before your illness you were a distinguished figure in the field of psychology. I've read many of your publications. I've admired you for a long time—considered you something of a role model, even."
She adjusted her gold-rimmed glasses and looked at him firmly.
"But that does not give you license to insult my professional competence."
Her voice was cool, but serious.
"I earned both my bachelor's and master's degrees in psychology at Stanford University. And if there had ever been a Professor Rosenhan at Stanford who conducted an experiment like the one you described, I would know about it."
She closed the patient file.
"So no matter how clear or logical your speech may be, it doesn't prove that you're recovered. I'm sorry."
---
This world doesn't have the Rosenhan Experiment?!
Sean's mind went blank. A low buzzing filled his head.
He had just dug his own grave.
Back in his original world, he wasn't a psychology expert like Ray had been. But as a competent private detective, he had studied psychology—and the Rosenhan Experiment was real. Famous, even.
That's why he had spoken about it with such confidence. He'd thought it would make him look sane.
But in this world… the experiment never happened.
No matter how sharp his reasoning or articulate his language, it didn't change that one simple, devastating truth.
He had quoted something that didn't exist.
"I'm screwed…"
Sean left the consultation room like a walking corpse, the weight of doom pressing down on him.
One thing was now certain: Dr. Beth would be more wary of him than ever. After witnessing his eloquent nonsense, earning her trust would be next to impossible.
But could anyone really blame him?
From what he'd seen in Ray's memories, this world followed almost the exact same trajectory as his own. Even the current U.S. President was the same Uncle O—just like back home.
Who could've guessed that something as specific as the Rosenhan Experiment had never happened here?
He was still cursing his bad luck when a familiar voice called out to him from across the hallway.
"Hey, Sean! You okay? You look pale."
Sean turned automatically toward the voice.
A short-haired young man with striking blue eyes was waving at him with concern.
"David?"
The name slipped out of his mouth before he even realized it.
And then it hit him—he knew this person.
Or rather, Ray's memories knew him.
He'd already absorbed most of Ray's memories, but it wasn't a perfect merger. Certain details only surfaced when triggered.
Like now.
The blue-eyed youth in front of him was David Haller.
A fellow patient at Clockworks.
Like Ray, David had been diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder. The two had become friends, bonded by shared experiences and their ability to converse like normal people when their "other selves" weren't in control.
That's why the moment Sean laid eyes on him, the memories surfaced instantly.
But then, Sean suddenly froze.
Wait a second… David Haller?
A chill ran down his spine.
No way… Could it be… that David Haller?!