Chapter 2327: Gotham Music Festival (29)_1

As Bruce and Shiller were confronting each other, the door of a second-floor room suddenly opened, and a group of bizarre figures wearing various sea creature masks walked in. The leader was an old man without a mask, but there was a golden trident painted on his forehead.

"Welcome, everyone who has been invited to board the Dakotazo. Before we set sail, you will have ample time to change your clothes and put on your masks. Rest assured, the ship won't go far. Once everyone is ready, we will depart for the ship," he said.

His words left most people somewhat befuddled. Wasn't it a bit late to think of changing clothes and donning masks now?

If you want to implement an anonymity strategy, you might as well have people change into their clothes and put on their masks before they enter. Everyone is already here by their real names, and some have even clarified their identity and background while networking. Isn't putting on masks now just like doing something utterly redundant?

Those who dare to accept the challenge, who doesn't have some tricks up their sleeve? Even with masks covering their faces and their appearances obscured, one could still identify someone by their voice and build, especially since many present have distinctive features.

Christopher's face darkened, he knew that this rule was disadvantageous for him. He had been preoccupied with talking to Shiller and had not taken note of other people's characteristics, while he himself was very distinctive.

On the way to the changing room, people also realized the organizer's purpose. All the public figures among the challenged were known entities, while the ordinary people, once they changed their clothes and put on their masks, would become almost indistinguishable to most.

Shiller was also assigned to a changing room. As he lingered at the door, he saw a familiar figure hurriedly pass through the hallway among the other challengers.

Shiller recognized the person but said nothing. He turned and went into the changing room, which was a very typical department store changing room—cramped with a small stool, a hanging rod, and a mirror. The clothes were in the cabinet on the right-hand side.

Shiller opened the cabinet door and found a set of deep red Baroque formal attire. The white classic Baroque shirt, made of thin white silk, was layered with a tight-fitting red vest embellished with long drapes on both sides.

In the other changing rooms along the hallway, Shiller heard exclamations. He figured that all the challenged must have a common theme in their attire, and this time, it seemed to be European classical formal wear.

After changing, and arranging his cloak, Shiller noticed two golden chains placed on the lower shelf of the cabinet; one was a necklace, the other a decorative chain connecting a brooch to an epaulet.

The red suit, besides its color, was strongly reminiscent of a naval uniform. The upper part of the draping cloak was snug, the vest's waistline crisp and clean, which along with the metallic decorations, offset the Baroque attire's tendency towards excessive complexity and a lack of a visual center.

Once Shiller had changed, he sighed softly and said, looking at himself in the mirror, "Do you think this is a coincidence?"

In his reflection, Shiller's eyes were a dispersed gray, with a faint smile hanging on the corners of his lips.

Just like in the movies, Shiller could indeed converse with his other personas through traditional means such as mirrors.

While it ensured that the primary consciousness controlling the body didn't have to withdraw, keeping the body safer, speaking sentence by sentence in the real world was obviously not as quick as exchanging thoughts on the Psychic_Battlefield, so they usually only used this method when the body might be in danger.

In short, it's how things were done in his past life. The method of leaving the body aside while all the personas gathered inside the High Tower was developed after the advent of the Gray mist.

"Of course not, but this will make it more convenient for us to enjoy the festival. It's what we deserve, isn't it?"

Shiller sighed and said, "The person who invited me might never have imagined that the carefully chosen location for me is not a place of weakness, but rather..."

"...a nostalgic past."

Shiller bent down to take something out of the pocket of his original clothes. It looked like a miniature bottle of liquor but with a bite-valve at the bottom—it was a compact breath inhaler aerosol bottle.

He took a puff from it, feeling more air flowing into his expanded airways. However, some of the pain and weakness that had previously etched into his memory had long since faded, so the rush of cold air that entered only left him with a chilly feeling in his chest and a familiar sense of drowsiness and sluggishness.

After returning the inhaler to the pocket of his suit, Shiller straightened his collar. When he stepped out of the room and took off his glasses, the dim hallway light cast deep shadows from his thick lashes. He then put on a mask that concealed everything but his dispersed gray eyes.

Shiller wore a black mask featuring tentacles on its lower half, similar to those other invitees who quickly passed by in the hallway wearing various sea creature masks.

They all hurried along,.

constantly caressing the lush fabrics of their attire, marveling at the smooth materials and exquisite designs they had never encountered before. They also discovered that the masks not only covered their faces but also muffled their voices.

The ordinary folks realized with masked faces and altered voices, and body shapes modified by the fittedness of the costumes, even the public figures they had been confident in recognizing had now retreated behind an inscrutable veil.

MOST OF THE PEOPLE lacked the conviction to rely on their judgment without concrete evidence. They could sense someone's resemblance to another but, in emergency situations, the obscured faces, muffled voices, and altered body shapes would only leave them hesitating in place.

In this light, it seemed fair. Public figures stood out more, but ordinary people lacked decisive evidence for identification. Thus, the most advantaged in this game were the non-public figures with clever minds.

Staff wearing marine creature masks came in again and led everyone waiting in the hall towards the small boat at the dock. As Shiller quickly followed through the corridor, he heard a series of hurried clicks from high heels.

A lady dressed in a Baroque gown walked briskly beside Shiller, covering her face with her fan, and said, "I believe we'll be needing allies in the upcoming game. I think highly of you. What do you think?"

Shiller, looking ahead, said, "I'm not in good health and don't have the certainty of victory, I'm afraid I might disappoint you, madam."

"A poor excuse," the other sighed lightly. Her voice became rougher behind the mask, almost without any accent, and she said, "I can tell you're a smart person. Today's game is not simple; you'd better consider my proposal."

After speaking, she quickened her pace to get ahead of Shiller. He gripped the aerosol bottle in his hand and his gaze sharpened as he saw her receding figure.

Shiller gently lowered his eyelids, letting all the silhouettes blur as if passing through his lashes. Time seemed to stop in his ears, the wind flew by his temples, and everything around became hazy, only that one figure gradually came into focus.

But just a second before he could fully focus, the figure in the dress took a turn and walked down the stairs. Standing at the second-floor window, Shiller took a deep breath from his aerosol inhaler, standing silently beside the window, wordless.

Another person, dressed in dark green lightweight formal attire, approached Shiller from behind. His gaze fell on the aerosol bottle in Shiller's hand, and through the eye holes of the mask, he observed a fleeting look and then stepped back half a step.

Familiar yet unfamiliar, so he took another step back.

Shiller turned his head, then turned around to look at him. Judging from his unfocused eyes, it seemed he didn't see much, and the man in the dark green attire took another step back.

"After you," he gestured with a hand.

Shiller simply lowered his head somberly, placed the aerosol inhaler to his mouth, and descended the stairs while inhaling.

Which one could it be? Someone heard their own voice asking this question internally. But at the same time, a louder alarm reminded them, don't be curious, not this time, never be curious again.

Shiller stood among the crowd, indistinct from those who were either stronger or frailer than average. He didn't interact with anyone, as if he were swallowed by the tide of people.

Then they boarded. It was a small boat, just big enough to accommodate fifty people, not fully seated. When Shiller walked into the cabin, he saw that woman, but unfortunately, she was sitting in the last row.

Shiller sat down by the window on the third row from the front. He felt someone sit behind him, staring intently at him, but Shiller just quietly watched the sea.

The boat started, and confused echoes resonated throughout the cabin. Everyone could sense that this journey was different from usual, though they had never participated in such a game before. The word of mouth they had heard had never involved so many troublesome steps.

Through the windows of the cabin, they could see that the leading supervisor, an old man, was right: the cruise ship hadn't sailed far but was waiting quietly in the sea not far from the dock.

The staff came in again and, after a series of welcoming pleasantries, began to introduce the rules of the game and the precautions.

"You are all respectable people and many things don't need to be reiterated by me, but I must emphasize again, before leaving this boat to board the cruise ship, we will conduct a thorough inspection, and no one is allowed to bring anything onto the ship besides the clothes on your bodies."

"If you have hidden anything in your clothing now, throw it into the sea as soon as possible. We will not pursue the matter, but if anyone is found to have concealed any item on board, the sea will not be as forgiving as it is at this moment."

The old man in front kept emphasizing, and as the boat sailed away from the dock toward the open sea, Shiller's face began to turn paler, his breaths longer and heavier, his gaze more unfocused.

The old man clearly noticed Shiller's abnormalities, slowly stopped his speech, looked at Shiller, and said, "Sir, what's the matter? Do you feel unwell?"

"I have asthma, but I've brought my medicine." After speaking, Shiller bit hard on the aerosol inhaler's mouthpiece, took a strong inhalation, and then relaxed.

"Very well, I hope you're okay. Let's continue."

But the man sitting behind Shiller suddenly tightened his grip on the edge of the seat.

Bruce Wayne's mind began to cycle through the same scenario—countless bullets stirred up many points of light on Shiller's body as he laughed madly, tumbling out of the window, the excitement in his eyes almost inescapable.

At that moment, he realized a serious problem—Shiller got seasick but had a morbid obsession with pain.