Chapter 3011: Dense Shade of Green Trees in the Long Summer Day (Part 9)

"I really like riddles because when I come up with the answers to riddles, it makes me feel significantly different from others who can't come up with them. Only I can do that, and it feels great. You would like it too."

"I've found that people are always looking for an answer to every question just like they do for riddles, but oftentimes they can't find that answer, or they don't believe in the answer they find. It's not like a riddle, which has a definite solution. I feel sorry for them."

"If I see a riddle, I know it must have an answer, so I don't have to bother with those other questions that may not have an answer, making me feel relaxed and happy."

"But they say I can't always be like this. One day, I will have to face those questions that don't have answers. Maybe that's true, but at least for now, I can come up with a perfect answer for every riddle."

Shiller wasn't surprised by these words, their artistry, or the philosophical ideas they contained. Gotham's lunatics were always like that—they were the most sensibly insane people in the world.

Although Shiller didn't want to, he still spoke up.

"What if all the questions you don't want to face have the same answer?"

Edward turned his head to look at him and said, "Impossible. Different riddles have different answers. Those questions couldn't possibly just have one answer."

"Because riddles are designed with the purpose of revealing various answers, but life and society are different; they evolved naturally, like a river, ultimately flowing in one direction."

"And what is that?"

"Death."

Shiller's profile, illuminated by the flickering light of the movie, looked rather somber as he continued, "The problems you see with Cobblepot and his mother all boil down to one question—How to face death."

"Is death a question or an answer?" Edward seemed confused and said, "You say it's the answer to all questions, but you also called it a question."

"When you see it as a question, you don't want it to be the answer, but when you understand it's the answer, it gives rise to more questions, a desire to explore, to trace back."

"Is Cobblepot's death a question or an answer?"

"It was a question before, perhaps now..."

"What would they explore?"

"I don't know, you could go ask them."

"Wasn't he always reading to me?"

It took Shiller a moment to grasp the meaning of this question, and he said, "No, you had your own past before coming to this insane asylum, just like he did."

"Then why can't I remember it?"

"It's just that you don't want to remember it, as it might be a painful memory for you, so you instinctively forget it."

"I forgot the answer."

"You just need it to be a question because if you don't remember what turned you into this, then it remains unresolved, and you won't have to find an answer for yourself."

"You're really amusing. Do you solve riddles?"

"Where is your book of riddles? In your room?"

"In Sisi's room."

"Who is Sisi?"

"That's Cobblepot's mother. She came here and watched a movie called 'Princess Sissi,' and she said she was Princess Sissi."

"Then who are you?"

"Me? I'm a monster from the underworld. The inscriptions and images in the underground crypts were all drawn by me. If I were locked up for thousands of years, I would have done that."

Shiller couldn't help but look up at the movie that was playing. Great, the male protagonist had died, and the female protagonist was alone, lifting a torch and looking for clues on the wall.

"She's so stupid," said Edward. "That's all scribbles, not any riddle at all. She won't find an answer."

"This is a movie, Edward. The director will make sure she finds it."

"But she can't, because there's no pattern." Edward's tone became more urgent as he said, "I've watched it all, I've memorized it. The drawings and inscriptions on the wall are all random scribbles; she won't find anything!"

Shiller said nothing, just quietly watched the screen. Sure enough, before too long, the female protagonist figured out the password for the secret chamber door using her wit and successfully opened the door.

"That's not right! That's not how it is!" Edward stood up, stamping his feet in place and gritting his teeth, "She's wrong, the fool! It's all a trick! They're all cheaters!"

"Yes, Edward, this is a movie, it's all make-believe."

"They're so unbearably stupid!"

"It all depends on the director's arrangement. If the director says the password is correct, then naturally it is right, because he needs the female lead to get out, so of course the password is right."

Edward stood there looking extremely dejected. He sunk back into his seat and sulked. Shiller chuckled and said, "You want to find a correct answer for every riddle, but sometimes that's how it is; people don't want the correct answer. They merely want what they desire."

"They want me to shut up," Edward said. "Because only I know the correct answer, which shows their stupidity, so they want to kill me, leaving no one who knows how stupid they are."

"No, that just highlights their stupidity even more," said Shiller. "They can kill you, but they can't kill the real answer. It exists there, unchanging, like the sun."

"But nobody knows. They will believe those cheaters, just like this girl here," Edward pointed to the screen. "The patterns on the wall are random, her answer is baseless, but she ran out."

"Yes, but the director will have to face the consequences of doing so."

The movie ended, and as Edward saw the surrounding audience leave their seats, rolling their eyes and sighing, muttering about how the rubbish movie had wasted another hour of their time.

Edward sat with his head tilted as though he had understood something, then he turned and looked intently at Shiller, saying, "It's dead."

"What?"

"This movie is dead."

"In a sense, yes, it didn't do well at the box office, and the reviews aren't good; people who bought tickets feel like they wasted their money, so it might as well be considered dead."

"So, I'm not dead, but they will be, because they didn't look for the correct answer," Edward said.

"Yes, as I said, everything ultimately returns to death."

Edward fell silent, his hands tightly gripping the armrest, his chest rising and falling slightly as if, for him, breathing had finally become something he didn't have to think about to do.

"Do all such people die?"

"No, some people live quite well, maybe even better than you. It's not a mistake, Edward, it's just a choice."

"But they should go look! They should pay the price for not looking! They all deserve to die!"

"Do you think Cobblepot deserves to die?"

Edward glared at Shiller in anger.

"His mother was sick, but to know what exactly the illness was, they needed an open biopsy, yet he didn't choose to do it, he didn't seek that answer. Do you think he should die?"

Shiller turned his head to look at him, looking into Edward's eyes and said, "Sisi also didn't want to seek that answer. Does she deserve to die?"

Edward's chest heaved violently, he smashed his hand on the adjacent armrest. Brand, who had arrived behind the two at some point, seemed ready to subdue Edward whenever he might lash out and hurt someone.

"Guessing the answer, knowing the answer, and making the answer public are three different things; the first two represent wisdom, the last is just a choice. You chose to reveal, others choose to hide, there is no right or wrong there."

Edward seemed to deflate suddenly, he mumbled with his head lowered, "So it's not just me who knows about that guy's stuff; they just don't say it, why is that?"

"You said it, which is why you are here now."

Edward began to tremble, clenching his teeth as if speaking in a frozen tundra.

"I uncovered a fool's hidden secret. I told him I'd discovered it because it was a fact, but he wanted to kill me. I thought they were just jealous of my intelligence, jealous that only I had found the answer to this riddle..."

"It's not just you, Edward, it definitely isn't just you."

"Then who else is there?"

"I know too."

"Impossible, how could you..."

"It's about 'death,' right?"

Edward looked somewhat bewildered, as if he had no answer, and it seemed as if Shiller's performance had overturned everything he'd known before.

"Answer me, is the answer death?"

Edward's lips trembled, his eyes darting around, his shoulders tensing inward, constantly swallowing, and then he whispered like a thief,

"You're right, you're right... I'm not the only one who knows the answer, they might have all guessed it, they just don't say it, so they live well..."

Edward started to cry; his lower jaw trembled constantly, creating a clattering sound as his teeth collided, and he curled up in his chair, saying, "The answer is death, the answer to the riddle is death..."

"What riddle?"

"His riddle, the principal's riddle. He said if I could solve it, I would be the smartest student. I thought about it for a long time..."

"And you figured it out."

"Yes."

"What's the answer?"

"Don't you already know it?"

"I want to know how you figured it out."

"Bones." Edward said staring at Shiller with bloodshot eyes. "I saw bones."

"What bones?!" Brand's voice suddenly appeared. Edward shrank back into his chair, too frightened to speak anymore.

Shiller gave Brand an annoyed look and said, "If this were a TV show, you'd be the prime suspect."

"Quit it, I'm a Magician. If I killed someone, there wouldn't be bones left."

"Who knows, you might have some twisted hobby."

"In Gotham, that doesn't count as twisted," Brand countered rolling his eyes. He wanted to press further, but seeing Edward's poor condition, he had to summon the Nurse to take Edward away first.

"This poor little unlucky bugger definitely stumbled upon a Serial Killer's crime scene, that's why someone almost finished him off," Brand said, watching Edward's disappearing figure.

"He just mentioned the principal... If there's a principal who is a Serial Killer, then the majority of the victims would be students, we might have to inform Gordon about this."

"But you know, apart from you, no one can extract clues from such a lunatic's mouth," Brand shook his head, "Edward is almost recovered, don't stimulate him anymore."

"One doesn't have to ask him to get the answer," Shiller said, fumbling with his fingers. "I will have Gordon look into which school Edward attended. The suspect list won't be long."

"Looks like this Serial Killer is about to turn into an unlucky bugger," Brand said gleefully, "If he knew you care so much about Gotham University's student body, he might not have chosen a student to go after."

"Such people aren't likely to change their targets easily, and it's not only the student body I care about. Without resolving this, Edward will never truly recover."

"I know," Brand said, "The best way to forgive oneself is not to forgive others, are you intending for him to handle it himself?"

"He has the capacity, doesn't he?"

"I don't know. I'm just the forensic pathologist you always forget."

"Trust me, being forgotten by me is a good thing."

"So, am I about to face great misfortune?"

"Yes, prepare yourself, Mr. Brand, you..."

Shiller's movement suddenly stiffened. At that moment, he recalled where he had seen the label of the bottle of wine Brand had brought—it had lain on the nightstand in a certain hotel room.

"I take back that statement. The one who needs to prepare... is me."