Chapter 2476: The Strange Ancient Bat Family (19)

Sky Island Gotham appeared like a secluded island undisturbed by time, perched on the edge of the setting sun's afterglow, wandering within the arc of sunlight, becoming radiant like a temple intermittently visible within the clouds.

The unrestored ruins throughout the city brought about a sense of desolate beauty, while countless rumbling machines added an unprecedented vigor to life.

A lithe figure crouched at the very top of the tallest crane, gazing at the slowly sinking sun over the sea. Catwoman's sleek silhouette made her look like a cut-out from a painting.

Another figure leapt onto the crane. Catwoman turned her head and saw the figure of Batman. She flicked her whip like a cat flicking its tail and leaped from the heights. Batman followed closely behind, his cape dragging a long trail through the gilded light where the sky met the sea.

As the sun gradually submerged below the sea, the remaining light, like an old hand too weak to grasp, ultimately couldn't seize the drifting fireflies, fading away in both color and warmth.

Batman, with the remnants of the night's rain beneath his feet, walked into Wayne Manor. The children were all asleep, with only the study's light still on.

After tidying up and changing into pajamas, Batman knocked on the study door and walked in to find Shiller engrossed in his work.

Batman sat down by the window nearest to the fireplace while Shiller looked up from his writing and said, "It seems that today was still not smooth?"

Batman lowered his gaze, wearily staring at the flames in the fireplace, nodding silently whether or not Shiller could spare him a glance, or was merely relying on that arcane but exquisite psychological analysis.

Shiller's pen hesitated for a moment, then resumed its fluid motions. Still fixated on the paper, he said, "Even if you came to me, I would hardly be able to give you such counsel, for it may not be fair to the lady, and would also breach professional ethics."

"What makes you think I have that intent?"

"Your demeanor, like that of a lost dog."

Batman slumped further down on the couch, crossing his hands over his abdomen, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

"That's not very polite, Doctor. I am simply tired and in need of rest."

"Either I don't know you're Batman and have no understanding of you at all, or I'm a fool with no grasp of psychology to believe that—acting like a stray dog won't make me change my mind."

Batman slid back up, pressed the pads of his fingers against the inner corners of one eye and said, "Batman can't possibly be unlucky in love?"

"Certainly possible, especially when the counterpart is a cat, but that wouldn't be your reason for seeing a psychiatrist. Surely a cat cannot concern you more than the destruction of the cosmos."

"I am equally worried about them." Batman replied, "If that is the case, Doctor, you should understand even more the risk I've taken—I am well aware that you are caught up during the end of term at Gotham University, with an inbox full of unread praises."

Shiller's pen paused again. He said, "From an academic standpoint, those things are indeed closer to poetry than actual papers, thank you for coming over to remind me of this while I'm using work to avoid that fact."

Finally laying down his pen, Shiller turned to look at Batman, one leg crossed over the other, his hands clasped on his knee, and said, "What exactly do you want to ask?"

"Perhaps about your love life?"

Shiller raised an eyebrow, his expression signaling his astonishment at the topic, but Batman showed no sign of backing down. He said, "I think it's a good casual conversation topic, especially considering the stage I'm at in life. As a friend, shouldn't you share some of your experiences?"

"The thoughts in your mind are quite impolite—no, there are no naive female students… No, nor any dangerously beautiful agents… A female detective? An English princess? Have you been watching too much Holmes?"

"Many professors I know have had at least one affair with their students..."

"An affair that occurs on the eve of final exams, involving hundreds of letters or emails filled with verbal sparring, which sadly still ends in an unromantic tragedy of failing grades?"

Batman pursed his lips, obviously disappointed that the arrow missed the mark, and showed slight disgust at the overly realistic description.

"So, Agent..."

Shiller went back to rearranging his notes and said, "Where on earth did these 'Agents' come from? Do they hope to learn about this country's hopeless future from the emails in my inbox?"

Batman sighed lightly and continued his attempt, "Your lifestyle bears some resemblance to the British, so..."

"Because the lifestyle of America in the 1980s was somewhat similar to England's, does that mean every one of them must have fallen in love with a British princess?" Shiller shook his head.

"But there must have been at least one..." Batman said with his thumb propped against his chin, "It's impossible you don't have admirers, PhD, absolutely impossible."

Shiller's pen stopped abruptly, and he spoke, "I have good reason to suspect you've been snooping in my mailbox... Indeed, some young ladies' poems of praise are overly enthusiastic; if they had even half this passion for their papers, our country's future might actually look hopeful... but I'd still advise them to see a psychiatrist."

Batman frowned and squinted, clearly disapproving of such quite ungentlemanly behavior, but he said nonetheless, "Let's talk about your admirers, PhD."

"You first."

"There's little to tell, they were after Bruce Wayne, not Batman."

"The Robins would be very heartbroken with that conclusion."

"If we're defining admirers that broadly..."

"I have absolutely no intention of broadening the discussion, please continue."

"Beauty, wealth, status, it's all so clichéd, talking any more about it would be too banal." Batman stood up and walked over to the liquor cabinet, his gaze searching among the shelves.

"You think this isn't clichéd?"

"If one isn't confined by those conditions, then indeed, there's a significantly greater chance of pursuing pure romance, isn't there?"

Shiller looked up with a surprised glance at Batman's silhouette; it seemed he had found one of the reasons why Batman was invincible in this area—"pure" was the end goal of emotional pursuit.

"What about Catwoman?" asked Shiller.

"She's too cliché." Batman could barely contain himself, complaining slightly.

"Materialistic?"

"More primal."

"Violent worship?"

"Even more primitive."

"…Lust for pleasure? She only wants to sleep with you?"

Batman nodded his head, all passion spent.

Shiller swore to himself that he really couldn't help it; he had replayed the moments of human wisdom and charm in his mind hundreds of times and still couldn't stop a smile from emerging.

"So…" Batman ventured.

"You're worried she'll lose interest in you completely after she sleeps with you, but also worried that not sleeping with you will cause the only sexual attraction you currently possess to gradually disappear?"

Batman internally applauded this accurate summary but only nodded subtly in agreement.

Shiller stopped writing, pondered for a moment with a tone of unusual hesitation, and said, "If she's fascinated by your appearance, if she's into Bruce Wayne's face, then you would have 'accidentally' met her at some party by now, and this lady, with her charm, would have already succeeded."

"If not, then that means what she likes is not Bruce Wayne, not his appearance or physique, but that of Batman's."

Batman's motion of pouring a drink visibly paused as he heard Shiller continue, "The significant difference between you two is, one, the identity, and, two, the dressing style."

"Bruce is a millionaire, while Batman is a vigilante, Bruce is always dressed in suits, and Batman never takes off his uniform. So, allow me to make this assumption—does Catwoman have a peculiar professional orientation in her choice of mate?"

"A policeman?"

"Considering she is a thief, and one that steals more for pleasure than need, it's not incomprehensible."

"Then why not a regular policeman?"

"Which regular policeman can keep up with her?"

Batman was left speechless.

He placed his wine glass on the other side of Shiller's desk and said, "Given that, any good advice?"

"I guess you've always been chasing her, but with no real intent to catch her."

"Because she hadn't committed a crime at the time, nobody could just arrest her, and even if she stole something, she'd return it, with kleptomania as an excuse, juries usually wouldn't be too harsh, and Gordon couldn't prosecute her to put her in jail."

"But you can catch her in the act."

Batman sipped his drink and looked up, "What do you mean?"

"No reason." Shiller reached for his glass, saying, "Every choice being rational is a behavioral school style, and I always tend to 'channel spirits'."

"You're just avoiding linking this answer to your experiences…" Batman said with a look of skepticism, "Is your love life really that astounding? Not a single detail you can share?"

Shiller shook his head as he drank, with Batman staring intently at him.

"I'm a psychiatric patient."

"You have your own Harley Quinn? A peer? Nurse? Intern?"

"My mental state is always a bit off."

"Some innocent bystander you've hurt? A policewoman who intervened heroically? One half of a couple in a disagreement that you saw when tumbling down stairs?"

"You should write romance novels." Shiller put down his glass and averted his gaze.

"Okay, but you still have to tell me the reason you can't share."

"Based on considerations of law, morality, and science…"

"Is it the law, morality, or science?"

"All three at once!" Shiller could only emphasize, "What you're asking for sounds more like an accident than a love story, and what you actually want to hear is more akin to closing arguments, moral ghost stories, and forensic reports!"

Batman narrowed his eyes.

"Do you have some particular kinks, Doctor?"

"Very, very, very particular." Shiller said as he took a sip of his drink.

"How particular?"

"Only God knows."

Batman gave a disapproving look but still intended to press further, yet it seemed Shiller couldn't bear Batman's complete ignorance on the matter, and he stood up, putting down his glass.

"Where are you going, Doctor?"

"To check my emails."

Batman stretched his neck out and called, "Aren't you going to finish your drink before you go?"

"…"

It wasn't until Shiller had completely left that Batman nonchalantly walked up to the desk to begin flipping through Shiller's left-behind notes. With his brain full of wisdom, he absorbed the concentrated essence of psychology from the pages.

"Final exams? Such an innocent term."