"The identity of Batman is your warning bell to intimidate them, to make them cautious. You deliberately make yourself serious and taciturn, enigmatic, and uncommunicative. You have transford yourself into an evil god, so that whenever any wrongdoer walks in the darkness, it feels as if they tread in your kingdom."
When Shiller said these words in a soft yet srizing tone, it felt like a prayer, or as if he was reading from a book. Batman's gaze on him was getting more focused.
Until at a certain mont, he suddenly awakened, separating himself from that hazed connection. When he looked at Shiller again, his gaze was even deeper.
"So, how did you do it?" Batman's tone began to sound surreal, as if they were conversing in the real world, but in another realm beyond the understanding of ordinary people.
"To know them, understand them, bring them together, and build a new society for them," Shiller's voice beca faint, almost vanishing into thin air. "Establish new social rules, and fill in what they lack in humanity and a sense of sha."
"To make them consider their status and reputation in another society before endangering ordinary people; to allow them to express love and emotion not in the act of slaughtering ordinary people, but in the union with their soul mates."
"To prevent their wisdom, philosophy, and ideology from being cast away in despair to the imbeciles who can't understand them, but instead allow them to exchange their soul-stirring monts of joy with fellows who share the sa spirit."
Instantly, Batman heard a buzzing sound, a rush of blood surged to his brain; he understood that this enchanting sensation making his cool brain hum was called "understanding."
"Part of you has gone mad, but you chose it; part of you has gone mad, but you don't need help; part of you has gone mad, it's okay. I too, have gone mad."
"Enough."
The muscles around Batman's lips trembled slightly. Still staring quietly at Shiller, he spit out a single word, "...Joker."
Bruce in the theatre narrowed his eyes, expressing a morbid sigh, "Batman blocked his intuition. He only communicated logically, and thus he only just discovered now that, Shiller is the Joker."
"How did he find out?" The morbid self answered, "Because Shiller was trying to make him laugh. What was Shiller doing? He was comforting Batman."
Bruce frowned, and the morbid snickered, "Yes, it doesn't sound like comfort at all. Who would call soone else crazy in an attempt to comfort them?"
"But often, the comfort people need is not 'you're going through a hard ti, but I can help you', nor 'you're going through a hard ti, but it's normal', instead it's 'you're going through a hard ti, and I am too'."
"Too many people have told Batman, 'you've gone mad, but you had no other option'. And many people have said to Batman 'you've gone mad, but I can help you.' But none of these were what Batman wanted."
"He was not driven to extres; it was a choice he made himself. He did not need help; all the misfortunes in the eyes of others were not his wounds, but his weapons. The lonely, dark, and uncommunicative deanor was self-made, to serve as a warning to the wrongdoers."
"He does not need a soft embrace, does not need anyone to gently remove his fangs, does not need anyone to remind him 'you didn't switch on the light', he is not blinded."
"But what anyone in this world can't refuse is, I understand everything about you, I know with what kind of determination you took this path, and I also chose the sa path, moving forward together with you."
In an instant, the hand resting on the armrest tightened, veins tracing from Bruce's forearm to his fingers. After a long pause, he released his grip saying, "... and Shiller pushed onto another path."
"Exactly. Precisely because he has taken the path himself, he doesn't want you to walk down the sa one."
"Does he not need soone alongside him?"
"Understanding is always temporary, consolation can never beco a force driving anyone to move forward. When everyone walks their own path, they are alone."
Bruce took a deep breath. He stared straight at the image on the screen saying, "When I first t Shiller, many people said we were alike, including Gordon, Harvey, and Victor."
"He is older than , my teacher, I was supposed to follow in his footsteps onto this path. But from the very beginning, I had a premonition. Over these years, it wasn't that he was slowly closing in on , but pushing away. Not looking for our similarities, but creating our differences."
"This is the fundantal reason for our violent conflict. It's like one side of a magnet suddenly reversing its polarity, turning what was supposed to be attraction into repulsion."
"Whether you like it or not, the person you see, could have been your future. There's nothing wrong with this path, only that neither Batman nor Shiller has reached the end. Since you have the opportunity to take a different path, why not add another possibility, a chance of success?"
As the morbid tone fell, Bruce let out a breath gradually calming down. He gently lowered his head to say, "They are like two parallel lines, moving forward side by side. We are like two intersecting lines, parting ways after crossing paths."
"Mutual understanding and regular check-ins during the climb, or gazing at each other from the tops of two successful mountains, are two completely different relationships, yet equally romantic." The morbid tone finally elevated, as if in exclamation.
"You will form parallel lines with many people, moving forward together, and with many others, you will form intersecting lines, complinting each other in different fields. If every person is an isolated island, then society and civilization are like mountains ford by nurous parallel and intersecting isolated islands."
"You have gotten through the loneliest stage of life, the stage of self-exploration and social positioning, and are now beginning to converge towards the mountains."
"What Shiller has done is make sure you don't have to stand alone, forestalling others from getting near you with darkness and fear."
"This is what he used to do, and what Batman is doing now, but you've already turned around and beco one with the mountains."
In his morbid murmur, Bruce turned his head to look at the crowd sitting on the other side of the theater. The flow of light and shadow traced their outlines, forming the shifting contours of mountains.
Each one of them was once an isolated island in a vast ocean, gradually converging, pushed together by the storms, their rough edges softened by the lightning, urged to grow upwards by the sunlight, encouraged to take root downwards by the waves.
Perhaps, at this mont, they could not yet be terd majestic mountains. Still, another slightly late coming island was always joyfully rushing into the embrace of these mountains. Verbal communication was like the intertwining wind; stretching hands mixed like pebbles and sand.
Given the circumstances, these two lonely and dark mountains, intertwined in the moonlight, were rely part of the horizon's scenery.
The mutual understanding and resonance between them was like a deep horn sounded in the wind. No matter how splendid the stories recorded within it, they could not extinguish the young bat's impulse to look back at the mountains behind him, nor the innocence in the heart of the child fascinated by the flowing colors of ten thousand fires.
Bruce's shoulders gradually relaxed, his profound imrsion dissipated. He finally pulled himself away from the screen to look at his companions sharing the theatre with him.
The mont Bruce turned his head, Clark sensed it imdiately.
His gaze overleapt the contours of the crowd, the shadows of the seats, eting Bruce's gaze. The highest mountain in these ranges always stood tall, sharp, and as steadfast as a rock.
Clark saw Bruce give a very faint smile, barely noticeable, almost as if it were a trick of the light, but it did not stop Clark from returning it with a broader grin. The small town boy cared little for illusions or lies yet never hesitated to share a smile with anyone.
Morbid also broke into a laugh, no longer low and filled with hypnotic intent, but genuine amusent and jest.
"The only escape from paternal authority is to stop searching for anything beyond familial love in your father. Don't seek friendship or understanding from him; looking for those will only lead to domination."
"Boys should play with boys, shouldn't they?"
Bruce turned his head to look at Morbid, not with caution, but seemingly with a slight reluctance to part. Nevertheless, he spoke, "I'm moving over there."
"Go ahead."
Bruce pushed himself off the armrest and stood up. As he was about to stride away, Morbid's voice echoed again, "Your seat is always yours, just like that hole in the high tower... you're welco back anyti."
Upon seeing Bruce's stiffened movent, Morbid chuckled deeply, mumbling, "I'm sorry; I didn't an to..."
"...I'm sorry; I didn't an to." Shiller looked down at his wine-stained tie. Standing up to address Batman, he said, "I'm afraid I need so ti to fix my appearance and tidy up the room. If you have any other questions, feel free to call ."
Batman also stood up. He no longer watched Shiller, instead shifting his gaze to Shiller's outstretched hand. Batman hesitated, but eventually lightly flicked the switch inside his finger.
The two shook hands, neither side backing down. Shiller stood by the balcony on the second floor, watching Batman leave with a placid expression.
Shiller began to tidy up the items in the room. Despite being sowhat ssy, the room was clean, or rather, it was well kept for a house that had been empty for several years. With a little bit of cleaning up, it could be livable.
Shiller collected all the scattered curios, sorting through them one by one. The theater audience watched the peculiar heap, each providing their own comnts.
"No, this piece is too ugly; was this statue dug up from a Pharaoh's tomb? Why does it still have mud on it? I believe Shiller wouldn't want it."
"Oh, my God, he's putting it to the left, which ans he's keeping it. Constantine, you were wrong."
"What? He doesn't want this? I quite like the orange color, but it seems Professor Shiller doesn't like bright colors."
"I like that cat sculpture; I think it will look nice on a bookshelf."
Clark patted the seat next to him, calling over the recently arrived Bruce, "Co here quickly. What's the deal with the previous owner of this house? How do they have so many different styles of collections?"
"It wasn't left by the previous owner," Bruce spoke as he sat down. "Batman stayed up all night putting it there. It's the Wayne Family's collection."
Everyone turned their heads to him, seemingly waiting for him to reveal the secret. Bruce gently shook his head, saying, "He did it so that the next ti he ca, he could observe which collectibles Shiller kept and which ones he put away."
"To a large extent, a person's aesthetic taste can reflect one's personality. People with similar aesthetic tastes often share more commonalities."
"Batman wanted to know how much Shiller resembled him."
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