When Shiller and Gordon walked into the room, the theater owner was still struggling, staring at the expressionless Bruce in disbelief, he said, "Mr. Wayne, there must be some misunderstanding, let me go!"
Bruce let go of his arm, stood up, and just at that moment, the theater owner turned around to run.
Shiller picked up the umbrella, and a special device at the tip of the umbrella emitted a faint blue light. With a "whoosh", an ice cone hit the theater owner and froze him into an ice sculpture.
This was the first time Shiller had used the freeze gun Peter had installed on his umbrella. Now it seemed the effect wasn't bad. The theater owner could no longer move, but his voice could still be heard from within the ice sculpture.
Bruce walked over, picked up the longsword, which was wrapped in a costume; the blood on the sword had been wiped off, but there were still obvious blood stains on the area where the hilt connected to the blade, perhaps due to hasty cleaning.
By this point, the theater owner couldn't talk his way out. After all, under any country's law, the murder weapon is the most important piece of evidence. And being seen by three witnesses with the weapon in hand, one of them being Bruce Wayne, there's no way he could escape guilt.
"Speak up, Mr. Andervo, why exactly did you kill Miss Vicky and how did you do it?" Shiller knocked the ice with his umbrella tip.
The theater owner gritted his teeth and said, "It's all that damned woman's fault! That damned whore! Not only did she want to leave, but she also wanted to take Alex with her! She was seduced into pursuing some movie dream! Damn movie dream!"
"I knew it, she met a rich man who said he wanted to make a movie with her as the lead actress. That fool! She actually believed it!"
"If I hadn't overheard her conversation with Alex, I wouldn't have known she was having such foolish daydreams. And that stupid Alex, he actually believed Vicky's words, he wanted to leave the theater troupe with her?!"
"They never thought that I was the one who made them famous. Leave the theater troupe? Dream on!"
The theater owner's face was distorted. Gordon took out his notebook and asked him, "How did you kill Vicky?"
"Of course, it was with that sword..." The theater owner snorted, "I had made a new armor for Alex, hoping that this new image would make him more popular. Since both of them didn't want to stay, then let them go to hell together!"
Gordon nodded, not asking further. After all, it was too easy for the theater owner to go into the props room and take out a longsword.
"Did you bribe Jasmine, the props master?" Gordon asked again.
"I didn't bribe her, as I said, she was jealous of Vicky. I told her I was going to teach Vicky a lesson and needed her help, and she agreed immediately." The theater owner snorted dismissively. "That ugly freak will never make it to the stage, she should go to jail!"
Before Gordon could ask more, the theater owner continued, "Originally, I was going to put this sword in Alex's dressing room as a threat to him, to continue his performances and not to think about leaving the theater troupe or else he'd go to jail."
"But who knew, just as I was pulling out the sword, someone climbed in through the window!" The theater owner bit his teeth, "I had to run away in panic with the sword, but as soon as I got to the second floor, I bumped into some viewers coming up. I had to quickly hide in this room…"
"So, when we shifted our attention to the props master, Jasmine, you hastily came to move the murder weapon…" Shiller shook his head and said, "Such a simple trap and you fell for it. You're even more stupid than the 'fools' you speak of."
Ten minutes later, on the roof of the Gotham Grand Theater, the lights of a police car shone on Bruce and Shiller's faces. Shiller turned his head and looked at Bruce, saying, "Your performance today really surprised me. If it were the old Bruce Wayne, he wouldn't have done anything."
Bruce remained silent, watching as Gordon took the theater owner into the police car. He said, "I am going to accompany Alfred now."
Then he turned and left, and Shiller stood on the roof of the Grand Theater, looking at the still dark night of Gotham, knowing that as the lights of Gotham got brighter, that dark bat would gradually take on different colors.
This daring bat, who aspired to become the god of Gotham, would soon realize that gods do not love people, and people do not love gods. Gods bring about doomsday with floods, people love to see gods fall; their love for each other is not mutual, their hatred, however, meets halfway and lasts for long.
Unconsciously, Batman could no longer be the solitary and splendid god, because in this world, there are always people willing to accept his imperfections, willing to forgive him time and time again, treating those things he values so much as trivial matters.
When a person is forgiven all the time, he tends to become kind-hearted.
Sitting in front of Alfred's bed, Bruce felt the blood in his heart flow out like a receding tide. After a while, Alfred woke up from his sleep, and when he saw Bruce, he smiled.
Bruce poured him a glass of water, adjusted the bed to let him sit up. Alfred coughed a few times, but was much better after drinking some water.
Bruce looked at him and asked, "Aren't you disappointed at all?"
"Disappointed in what?" Alfred asked him back.
Bruce paused for a moment and said, "In everything I've done, everything Bruce Wayne has done..."
Alfred shook his head and said, "Why should I feel disappointed? A child who did not receive the blessing of his parents, did not seek revenge on society due to hatred and anger, did not appear unreasonable and aggressive due to lack of education, did not indulge and harm himself because there was no one to monitor him. What more can I ask for?"
"Don't you want me to..." Bruce lowered his head and took a deep breath, "Don't you want me to take revenge? To take revenge on those criminals?"
"No...Bruce." For the first time, Alfred called his name, causing Bruce's fingertips to tremble slightly. He heard Alfred say, "I hoped that you could forget about it forever, but unfortunately, I couldn't."
"If I were someone like Professor Shearer, I would do everything I could to make you forget your past, to never dredge up that tragic period again. It's the source of all your pain, pain you should never have had to bear."
"Don't you think... don't you think I can be a hero? Don't you think I can save the world?" Bruce asked, staring into Alfred's eyes.
"Perhaps you know that I once embarked on the path to save the world, with such passion and zeal. On that path... I didn't make it to the end. I'm a cowardly deserter, a loser who gave up."
Bruce wanted to interrupt him, but he heard that Alfred's tone was calm, without sadness or passion. So, he could only continue to listen.
"But to this day, I have no regrets about the experience."
"So, if I hope for you to save the world, to be a hero, it's not because I want to see the world saved."
"It's because, when you're on this path, I hope for you to meet more friends who share your lofty ideals and aspirations. I hope that when you've finished this journey, you'll be able to tell your child about those glorious times."
"But if, when you've reached the end, you're without family, without a lover, without friends, what's the point of doing all this?"
"If a world would allow a hero to lose his wife, children, and remain alone, is it really necessary to save it?"
"Then why... why did you teach me so many skills? Fighting, surveillance, intelligence... didn't you hope that I would use these skills to save the world?" Bruce asked.
Alfred shook his head and said, "If I truly led you to such a false impression, then I apologize. I was simply... at the time, I was feeling empty and was just looking for something to occupy myself."
Bruce remembered the snow flutters he had seen in Metropolis. He had wondered if his butler had seen larger and more beautiful snowfall in that northern realm.
Now, he had his answer. Because if he had not experienced more magnificent scenes, why would the life in the luxurious Wayne Manor seem so dull, dry, and empty?
Bruce took a deep breath, feeling that it was all like a joke.
From start to finish, apart from himself, nobody expected anything from him.
No one had any expectations of him beyond that of an ordinary person, and the mission that he imposed on himself, the illusion of bearing the burden and the expectations of all, was all a dream.
Bruce covered his face with a hand, reflecting on the day he had, for the first time, taken action as Bruce.
He had set a trap for the theatre owner. Using his identity as Wayne, he put pressure on the owner, causing him to rashly search for a scapegoat, and then, in collaboration with Shearer, they deliberately shifted the suspicion onto the prop master, which allowed the owner to relax his guard.
Then, he deliberately mentioned the murder weapon, breaking the owner's psychological defense, and finally pretended to leave. He stayed in another room, tracked the owner, and apprehended him at the first scene where the murder weapon was concealed.
What would Batman do?
However, perhaps Gordon didn't depend on him. In the end, he would still call Professor Shearer, as he seemed more experienced.
This made Bruce question whether his sporadic hostility towards Shearer was due to vigilance and suspicion that he might commit a crime, or whether it stemmed from a sense of crisis that his role, abilities and existence were being usurp.
Bruce recalled the first time he met Shearer in a Gotham alley. At that time, he was investigating a missing persons case in the Morson district, and Shearer claimed he was doing the same.
In that moment, was Bruce dubious of whether Shearer was the perpetrator, or was he worried that his perfect identity might be at risk of being replaced?
Bruce felt he couldn't find an answer, but he felt that he couldn't ask Shearer. For no particular reason, he just didn't want to do that.
Yet, just because he won't seek Shearer, doesn't mean Shearer wouldn't come looking for him. The door to the ward creaked open, and Bruce turned to see an umbrella-wielding figure stand at the doorway.
Bruce rose to his feet, watching as Shearer tapped the floor with his umbrella and stated, "There's something I forgot to ask you."
"Bruce, do you realize how long you've been neglecting your assignments? Did you know that the essays and grades you owe me are now enough to allow a freshman to graduate?"
Just as Bruce was about to speak, Shearer pointed his umbrella at him and pronounced, "Listen, Bruce Wayne, this is your final warning. If you can't hand in all the overdue essays by tomorrow morning, I'm going to publish it in the newspaper, announcing to all of Gotham's citizens that the famed Batman doesn't do his homework!"
"I'll say it one last time, first thing tomorrow morning, I want to see all your homework on my desk!"
Watching Shearer walk away, Bruce closed his eyes and sighed. He thought to himself.
No, not everyone has no extraordinary expectations of him.
At least, this professor seems to think that he has eight hands.