Today in the elevator, it was just me and a big brother.

Suddenly, he farted. The sound wasn't loud, but the smell was strong.
I held my breath and pretended nothing happened.
The big brother looked at me and said, "Sorry about that."
I said, "It's okay, I didn't smell anything."
He said, "Impossible, I could smell it myself."
I said, "I really didn't smell anything."
He asked, "Is your nose not working?"
I said, "Maybe."
He said, "Then can you help me smell it? Is my fart really that bad or not?"
I said, "Big brother, you want me to smell your fart?"
He said, "You said you can't smell it, right?"
I said, "I can't smell it, but I also don't want to prove that I can't."
He asked, "So, can you smell it or not?"
At that moment, the elevator reached the first floor. I rushed out.
The big brother called after me, "Hey, tell me! I need to go to the hospital and get checked out!"
I didn't look back, but I was thinking:
A person who cares whether their fart is smelly or not—
Which department should they go to?
Proctology or Psychiatry?