"Do you wish everything in this world to go according to your plans? Do you wish to never make mistakes?" Shiller asked.
"Of course."
"What do you think drives you to make such decisions?" Shiller asked again.
Alcohol was continuously eroding Batman's mind; people who don't often drink are always more susceptible to getting drunk.
Even without Shiller's hypnosis, Batman had naturally entered a hypnotic state. Various illusions kept appearing before his eyes, bizarre scenery that made him feel bone-chillingly cold.
"Bats... it's bats." Batman answered, "One night, a swarm of bats flew past my window. I heard them say that I could become one of them, saving this city…"
"It is fear that drives you to do so."
Shiller said. Psychologists are experts in interpreting some strange images that patients verbalize, such as two unrelated things, a seemingly fairytale-like story, or even those nauseating and uncomfortable fantasies. They all represent the patient's emotions.
Shiller asked, "Are you afraid of things beyond your plans, or are you afraid of the potential bad outcomes that might result from deviations, or are you afraid of the destruction these outcomes may cause to your perfect identity?"
Batman seemed not to understand this long, complicated question. He kept silent, trying hard to shake off the increasingly intense drunkenness, but he had drunk too much and his efforts were in vain.
"Batman? Batman?" Shiller was calling him, but Batman no longer responded. He had entered a state of blurred consciousness, commonly known as blacking out from drinking.
Shiller's long question became the final lullaby. In a dark alley, in a torrential downpour, Batman fell asleep. This meant that he was truly drunk.
The next morning, Gotham greeted the dawn chilled by the previous night's rain. Bruce sat up from his bed, and the moment he did, he felt an intense headache.
He got out of bed, walked to the window and opened it. The cold breeze blowing over his temples made him feel somewhat clear-headed.
Before pushing the door open, Bruce hesitated. He felt an inexplicable fear. He was afraid that he would not see Alfred after he opened the door.
But after a few seconds, he pushed the door open and heard the crackling sound of wood burning vigorously in the fireplace.
That set his mind at ease. Upon reaching the staircase, he saw Alfred dusting the phone.
Alfred was sporting the deer-skin gloves Bruce hadn't seen in a long time. This made his movements look less agile, but Bruce gripped the handrail tighter. In the cold air, an emotion began to brew.
"Oh, sir, you're awake? Good morning, breakfast is ready, you may eat now." Alfred said with a smile to Bruce, as if nothing had happened the night before.
But Bruce's memory was reminding him that many things had happened yesterday and he must know the outcome. So he asked, "Where is Aisha? Has she returned?"
"Yes, the miss has returned. Sir, she didn't get far, I brought her back. But after returning, I didn't see you, so I sent her to bed." Still smiling, Alfred replied.
As his voice fell, they heard a series of small footsteps from behind.
Elsa, in her pajamas, hurried down the stairs and straight to the dinner table. Once she pulled out a chair and hopped onto it, she picked up the knife and fork, licked her lips, and turned to look at Alfred.
Alfred, smiling, guided Bruce to the table. Bruce wanted to say something to Elsa, but she was already stuffing her face. Alfred, standing behind him, laughed and said,
"Miss Elsa had intense exercise last night. She was hungry when she returned, but it was too late. Eating at such a late hour is not good for her, so she may be a bit hungry now."
Seeing this, Bruce didn't say anything else. He started to eat breakfast, but felt something was missing during the meal. He put down his fork and asked, "Alfred, where's today's newspaper?"
Alfred, holding the duster, twitched his finger slightly. He replied, "I am sorry, sir. I got up a bit late today and haven't pressed the newspaper. However, it is still promoting the Angelica Theatre Troupe and their new play, 'Macbeth'..."
"Oh, yes, sir." Alfred suddenly raised his voice a bit and continued, "This is the first legitimate theatre troupe performance in Gotham in ten years. All the city's dignitaries will be there. You really should go. Should I book tickets for you, Young Master Dick, and Miss Elsa?"
Bruce looked down at his plate and said, "No, I won't go. Book a ticket each for Selina, Dick and Elsa. Let them go together."
Alfred nodded, but didn't say anything else. After breakfast, Alfred took Elsa to exercise in the backyard. Alone, Bruce finally furrowed his brows.