Shiller was certain he smelled alcohol, and it wasn't the type that could be replaced with ginger in beer. He furrowed his brow, looking at Bruce, who lay silently on the sofa, breathing evenly, seemingly asleep.
If the one opposite was indeed a second-generation rich kid, Shiller would not be surprised in the slightest.
The empty mansion, the intoxicated young master, the extinguished, unattended hearth, all told the story of a lonely heir.
But Bruce Wayne is not just a rich man's son - he is Batman, the most disciplined of men worldwide.
Shiller had seen him use ginger juice instead of beer, that spicy pungency helping to make his act seem more natural. When it came to his performance of being drunk, Batman's precision was extraordinarily accurate, so much so that even Shiller could not conclusively decide if he was really intoxicated.
So, he stepped forward, poking Bruce with the tip of his umbrella. The moment he lifted his hand, Bruce made no move. Shiller confirmed: he really was asleep.
The notion of Batman drinking was too unusual.
Shiller let out a sigh, turning to walk towards the fireplace. He found an abundance of firewood on the nearby rack, none added to the fireplace. Judging from the moisture content of the firewood, it must have been added recently. Alfred had prepared everything for Bruce prior to leaving.
Shiller picked up several relatively dry pieces of firewood, placing them inside the fireplace. Soon, the fire blazed with vigor, illuminating everything in the hall.
It was clear that some event had transpired there. Within every space where a person has resided, every trace told a story.
Shiller took a deep breath, setting forth his deduction.
The most conspicuous trace in the entire hall was the footprints stretching in from the front door, clearly not left by Shiller, who was accustomed to wiping his shoes on the door mat upon entry.
What's more, these small footprints were especially petite, apparently left by a seven or eight-year-old girl. Shiller walked towards the front door, noting two sets of prints - one child with smaller foot size leading, the other following closely
It looked like they had run in, chasing after one another, and had been stopped not far from the front door.
Shiller crouched down, observing the termination point of the footprints. There were traces of water, as if drips had fallen from something. Shiller hypothesized that these are the rainwater droplets from hair, combined with the shape of the footprints, it was likely two young girls.
Shiller gazed out of the front door as the black night sky began to light up. As day broke, Gotham had the heaviest rain it had in three months, rendering outdoors under a heavy pour.
Two small figures rushed in through the door, drenched and shoes splattered with mud. They had just entered when Alfred, who was by the fireplace adding firewood, hurried to intercept them.
Standing in the shadow of Alfred, Shiller shifted a step to the left. He saw the girl who rushed in first bore an unclear, indeterminate face. But the one behind was Aisha.
Aisha's hair was rather long, sticking to her face in strands after being drenched in the rain. Alfred quickly got a dry towel to wipe their heads. The drops of water dripping from the girls' hair ended up near the termination point of the footprints.
The light dimmed again. Shiller stepped over the footprint trail, making his way to the area near the sofa. Through the light of the fire, Shiller saw Bruce sitting there reading a newspaper. The moment Bruce saw the two young girls rushing in, he stood and walked towards the door.
In an instant, time seemed to freeze, water drops hung suspended in the air, and the steps of Bruce, mid-stride, came to a halt.
Shiller stepped forward, retrieving the newspaper from between the crevices of the sofa arm that had been compressed. He saw the newspaper stated that the Metropolitan Angelica Troupe had arrived in Gotham, and they had a simple program listed.
He turned the newspaper over, studying the creases repeatedly. Bruce, who had originally risen to go to the door, sat back down, assuming a different posture.
He held the newspaper, standing up. Upon spotting the entrance of the two little girls, he did not even get the chance to refold the newspaper properly. Instead, he casually tossed the newspaper next to the armrest and promptly strode over.
The thrown newspaper pointed to a distinct unease in Bruce. But why did Bruce feel such urgency? He knew full well that Aisha was extraordinary; getting drenched in the rain, heck, even in boiling water, would not make her sick.
The problem must lie with the other, unfamiliar, little girl.
Shiller walked back to the footprints, considering the size of the shoe prints and recalling the children he'd seen in the basement. Their faces and figures played back in his mind until the image of the most frail little girl remained in his consciousness.
In his mind's eye, the little girl stood at the forefront, Aisha behind her, reaching out to graspa her. Alfred was on the left and Bruce, just in from the outside, was on the right.
Judging by the water accumulation, they must have stayed there for a while before the little girl remained still and Aisha ran off, with Alfred chasing after her.