Chapter 1209: The Cry of the Lamb (21)_1

"Hey, Jason, did you hear on the radio that Batman is going to appear on the rooftop of the Wayne Building tonight?"

In the study room of Wayne Manor, Dick, sitting by the table with a book in his hand, turns to Jason, who is deeply engrossed in writing, and says without looking up, "I don't listen to the radio, I have a hard time understanding auditory text. I prefer newspapers."

"Fair enough." Dick tilted his head, he licked his lips and said, "Gotham's radio stations are full of mob slanging matches. Oh, they now call such uncivilized barrages 'East Coast Rap Battles', they're even planning to hold a contest to see who's got the nastiest insults."

"But, that new Travel and Automobile radio station is quite interesting." Dick continued.

"Because it talks about Batman?" Jason asked, glancing at Dick.

"I quite liked what they said today, that the nights in Gotham belong to Batman. That's really cool." Dick propped his chin with his hand, his eyelids drooping as though he was somewhat drowsy.

Seeing him in this state, Jason shook his head and said, "Dick, I know, the emotional trauma you went through recently makes it hard for you to get a good night's sleep, but you need to force yourself to rest, not go wandering around in the middle of the night. Can't you see your mental state is terribly bad?"

"Of course, he doesn't notice, and he plans to go out again tonight, perhaps even join those Batman fans, waiting until midnight for Batman to show."

Tim's voice echoed from the doorway, he walked into the study carrying a stack of books, walked past Dick by the table, peered at the writing Jason was immersed in, and exclaimed.

"Wait, what are you writing? Homework for a math assignment? When did the teacher assign this?"

"That can't be, I heard it directly from the teacher, we have to finish the reports for today's three math problems by tonight…"

"Hey, wait, you both are now in the same class?" Dick looked puzzled at Tim and Jason.

"He transferred to my class." Tim put down the stack of books and said, "Bruce thinks he should attend school regularly, he has been looking for a suitable school, and then he happened to bump into my dad at a party the other day."

"You guys know it, my dad is a sales crazy. He was zealously promoting my school to Bruce, even suggesting that we could go to school together. To our surprise, Bruce agreed."

Jason shrugged helplessly, "Even though I'm older, I have to be in the same grade as him. How annoying!"

"Not entirely wrong there, your science grades are horrendously bad." Tim squeezed next to Jason, peered over his shoulder at his homework and pointed out a line, "The homework is supposed to cover the process of solving the problems; instead, you're writing about grammar mistakes in the problem statement. Even if I don't turn in my homework tomorrow, I won't get scolded any more than you."

"For God's sake, spare me! Riding to school every day with skinny twerps like you guys is almost killing me!" Jason ran a hand through his hair impatiently, "I hate math!"

But Tim just smiled brilliantly, pulling Jason's arm closer, he said, "We're relying on you for the football match this term. You must smash that bully from the neighboring class!"

"Don't worry." Jason patted his chest, then handed his workbook to Tim, "Hurry up and help me finish this math report. I'll help you with your English paper."

"Okay, but you have to do the arithmetic problems yourself. They are so easy that I really don't want to waste another second on them... Oh, Dick, where are you going?" Tim looked up puzzledly at Dick, who was standing up.

Dick turned away, so no one could see his face. He gently cleared his throat and said, "I'm going to do my homework."

"Why don't you stay here and do it? Alfred could bring your workbook up, and we wouldn't have to have so many lights on." Jason reached out towards him.

Dick gently slipped from his grasp, shook his head and said, "I'm in a different grade than you guys. I need a quieter environment to finish my homework."

With that, he left. Tim watched him leave with a puzzled look, Jason pursed his lips, "Did you notice? He seemed kind of upset."

"Why?" Tim asked, confused.

"You forgot, a while ago, Dick had a psychiatric trauma. Bruce was with him constantly and left us to look after ourselves. Of course, I've always been self-reliant. I don't expect anyone's help." Jason shrugged.

"So what?" Tim still was clueless. Jason sighed and explained, "Now that he's recovered, Bruce is busy with work and only has time in the evening. Nowadays, as soon as he gets home, he first checks our homework, rather than heading straight for Dick's room."

"But I remember Dick saying he wished that Bruce wouldn't always go to his room, saying something about 'needing personal space.' Now that Bruce truly doesn't, he's upset?"

Jason spread his hands and said, "They say that all kids go through this phase at his age, but I don't think I'll do that."

"I definitely won't either." Tim added.

When Dick came downstairs, he languidly greeted Alfred before heading straight to his room and closing the door tightly behind him.

In his room, Dick first sat on the edge of the bed, rummaged through his backpack, and organized his homework. Instead of sitting at his desk, he sat cross-legged on the floor and began writing with his work in hand.

But he hadn't written for long before he started frowning. Dick's grade is higher than Jason and Tim, hence, the math problems are more difficult.

All of them are enrolled in private schools that provide elite education, the difficulty level is not low. Dick's academic performance actually isn't that great. He used to be above average, but after convalescing at home, he struggled to keep up with the curriculum and now his grades are slipping.

After making attempts for a while, he couldn't figure out the answers. He irritably threw the scratch paper on the floor, but after a while, he pursed his lips, revealing a stubborn determination, and continued to work through the math problem as if refusing to admit defeat.

But with Math, if you don't understand, you simply don't. Dick had missed an insight and had now encountered a deadlock, increasingly unable to calculate the right answer.

Dick beat the neighboring bed board forcefully but didn't really know who his anger was directed at. He glanced at the clock and a look of disappointment appeared on his face.

After sitting in the same position thinking for a while, Dick put down his homework, pulled out a toolbox from under the bed, readied his grapnel and other equipment, climbed out of the window and descended into the garden.

The gigantic city, bathed in the moonlight reflected from the sea, turned into a bright silhouette. A slender yet powerful figure sprinted quickly on the rooftop, stopping in front of the moon.

Dick ran his fingers around the edge of his mask, turned his head, and looked at the tallest building in the city center. There, another shadow was standing, taller and more robust, like an insurmountable mountain.

Dick knew, while he was looking at Batman, Batman wasn't looking at him.

Batman was observing his city, his city. He was the deity of this city and every building, car, and person was his child.

Dick once greatly admired Batman's noble ideals and wanted to follow in his footsteps. But when he again stood here watching Batman's silhouette, the image that flashed through his mind was of Bruce in the hospital bed, looking fatigued but still watching him intently.

Dick believed Batman was the deity in the dark, the greatest man he had ever known and the one he could reach out to. He was sure he would admire Batman all his life.

But now, he felt a bit guilty, as if he had made a new friend behind his best friend's back — and was actually keener on this new friend. That new friend was Bruce.

Bruce, compared to Batman seemed more like a real person. When he was tucking Dick in bed, he didn't appear to be great, even overly ordinary, not capable of satisfying any teenager's dreams of heroism.

Dick wanted to become Batman, but he also wanted Bruce to be with him. He felt extremely greedy and saddened because he couldn't achieve it.

After standing on the roof for a while, Dick didn't jump to a closer building as usual to observe Batman from a closer distance, instead he turned around to go back to Wayne Manor to do his homework with a somewhat crestfallen look.

But while he was turning to jump across the gap between two buildings, he saw a shadowy figure appear in the alleyway below.

The figure was enormous and robust, yet seemed completely out of place. There was an intense aura of darkness about him, even darker than Gotham's night.

"...Batman?" Dick proclaimed subconsciously. Then a second later, he shook his head and said: "No, how could that be Batman? Batman is further away."

Yet the curiosity evoked during that fleeting glance nagged at him painfully. He squatted hesitating on the rooftop for a while, but still climbed down the drainpipe and entered the dark alley.

By the time he set his feet on the ground, the shadowy figure had disappeared. After looking around, Dick, somewhat disappointed, began to question if he was experiencing hallucinations because of his yet-to-heal emotional trauma.

Dick scratched his head standing in the place and preparing to leave. But just as he was about to go, he heard two whistling sounds from behind him.

Dick instinctively shifted to the side, and with a roll, climbed onto the wall, squatted there like a nimble cat, intently focusing on the darkness at the end of the alley.

As a dark figure emerged from the shadows, Dick, surprised, opened his eyes wide, and shouted:

"Batman?!"

Immediately after, he stepped back cautiously, with his hand on the wall, he rose up, staring dead at the shadowy figure in front of him, and said solemnly:

"No! You are not Batman!"

A voice deeper and darker than the night in Gotham came from the end of the alley:

"I am."