Across from him, there was a prolonged silence that even began to make Oliver wonder if there were some unique rules to renting a house in Gotham that Shiller had forgotten to tell him. Perhaps the person on the other side was awaiting a secret signal from him?
"602 Pedro Street, face-to-face meeting," said the person on the other end of the line before hanging up, leaving Oliver even more perplexed.
He had no particular worries, though. If the other person was just an ordinary shady broker trying to lure him for a robbery, Oliver was not one to be trifed with. Additionally, there were hardly any Federal Bureau of Investigation agents in the city, so he didn't have to worry about getting caught.
Oliver started the car and immediately set off, while Shiller, standing by the window of his own bedroom, heaved a sigh of relief. It seemed he had found a suitable house, and he could finally rest.
Before Shiller could get to bed, a hurried knocking sound came from the door. As soon as he opened it, Harley barged in.
Shiller almost stumbled from the impact but steadied himself to discover that Harley was holding several small balls of different colors in her hand.
Noticing that Shiller's gaze had travelled to her hand, Harley, grinning proudly, placed a hand on her hip and lifted the other hand high, shaking the small balls in front of Shiller.
"What are these?" Shiller asked.
"What else but your favorite thing—money!" Harley exclaimed, saying to Shiller, "Don't look so puzzled, let me explain."
She patted her chest and said, "The first batch of Sinner Hunters, also the ones with the highest number of kills and the best quality of souls so far, overall ranked number one!"
Shiller was momentarily lost, to which Harley said, "I'm using Devil Vision. It couldn't find your soul, which tells me you're not from this cosmos at all."
"When I was studying at Kamar-Taj, Professor Strange told me that your life habits are too healthy for a normal human. If I'm not mistaken, you've just pulled an all-nighter and are dying of exhaustion now."
Finally, Shiller completely relaxed. He sat down on the bed and felt the constriction of his suit. Shaking his head, he said, "I'll go change into pajamas first, wait for me a moment."
Harley grabbed his sleeve and said, "Don't rush. What I have to say is simple. I'll finish, and then you can change."
She shook the small balls in her hand and said, "When I came back, I saw police cars. You've seen my spoils of war, haven't you?"
Shiller frowned slightly, then he remembered that Harley was referring to the two decapitated bodies that were hung upside down.
"I just want to tell you, this isn't representative of my academic level, but those damn, old-fashioned demons all have their unique sacrificial methods. The one I'm preparing to trade with requires the head to be placed in the center of the Magic Array, and the array beneath the headless body so the blood soaks into it, allowing the soul to be extracted smoothly," she explained.
Harley cleared her throat and said, "Do me a favor and let the Professor know that I fiercely protested against this unartistic method of murder, but they stubbornly refused to change. I had no choice but to do it this way. It's not like I intend to corrupt your eyes and brain."
Harley, somewhat irritated, tossed her hair back and said, "But that's not the point. You didn't give me the secret code, so I had to search through almost all the papers you've used just to find a couple of idiots who accidentally revealed their information."
"But this is too slow. I've wasted so much time decrypting case numbers, and the slew of ads gave me a headache. So, can we make a deal for you to just give me a list?"
"What's the rush?" Shiller asked.
"Oh my god, you must be sleep-addled," Harley lamented, her hand drooping. "If a sinner's soul is a resource, then Gotham will surely become a treasure city in the Magic realm. As far as I know, all the surviving Magicians around the world are moving this way. If I don't take full advantage of my hometown edge, there won't be another chance to grab such high-quality souls."
At this point, Shiller was already so sleepy that his thoughts were foggy. He didn't catch any of Harley's explanation and instinctively said, "Even if I gave you a list, you'd have to kill them one by one, and then arrange them in the pose required by those Demons. How many can you handle in a day? Two? Three?"
"So what am I supposed to do?" Harley deflated, saying, "Isn't this the pattern you established? You know this disadvantages the younger ones. I still have to go to school and do homework."
Shiller waved a hand and said, "You're the one who's sleep-addled. We welcome tourists because they pay their own way here and spend money, but those Magicians are coming to convert our sinners into their resources, which is outright robbery. Are you going to let them have their way?"
"But I can't beat those Magicians," Harley sighed. "The mystic world here is very ageist. Without reaching full physical maturity, the Mana I can carry is very limited. Plus, they all possess unique skills, so sneaking up on them might not necessarily succeed."
With a helpless gesture, Shiller covered his forehead and said, "You just said you have the advantage of being a local. So what's the biggest advantage of being a local?"
Harley looked at Shiller.
"Magicians coming to Gotham can't possibly float in the air. They need to eat, to live, to get around without always using teleportation. They have to get a car, and unlike you, they don't know about the secret code thing. They need to gather information through inquiries," Shiller explained.
Then Harley's eyes brightened with realization, and she smacked her thigh, exclaiming, "I knew Black Island didn't sound like Bruce's idea. You really live up to your name."
Then she began to count on her fingers, calculating the number of properties she had in each business and urban district, and which ones she could sell to buy an island and turn it into a golden sinking fund like Black Island.
Shiller pointed to the door, and Harley quickly ran out. Before leaving, she leaned on the door frame, poked her head back in, and said, "Thanks, Doctor. In fact, I've got an even better idea, and you'll see it very soon."
Shiller sighed softly, walked back into the room to change into his pajamas, and just as he returned, he saw a silvery-white figure by the window—it was White Can.
He turned his head to look at Shiller and then frowned in confusion, saying, "What's wrong with you? You look like a beached fish."
"I'm very tired." Shiller said bluntly, "So unless there's something important, you should leave quickly; I'm going to sleep."
An almost imperceptible awkwardness and embarrassment appeared on Stark's face, which typically would never appear on White Can's face because he was utterly shameless.
So whenever he showed such emotions, it definitely meant that the matter was related to Pepper. Usually, Shiller, when fully awake, would have caught this fleeting emotion, but he was so exhausted now that he didn't notice anything.
"Do you know about that island?" Stark asked, "The one built in the sea, I heard the locals say it's called Black Island."
Shiller nodded while sitting on the bed, leaning back against the pillow and closing his eyes. But he was soon shaken awake by Stark, who said, "Don't sleep yet, listen to me first. I also want to build an island like that. Do you have any good ideas?"
Before Shiller could speak, Stark said, "Pepper just called me. Of course, we didn't talk about much. It's impossible to pretend the previous conflicts didn't happen, but I was quite surprised that she took the initiative to call me."
"You called, she answered." Shiller, with his eyes closed, said, "That really surprised you because you've always thought you weren't that important to her."
Stark could no longer hide his embarrassment, but Shiller said, "Don't feel embarrassed yet, there's something more embarrassing. You played the hero and gave away Stark Group, which has left you penniless. You can't reappear in your original universe with an official status; you've become a poor stateless person."
"Who are you calling a poor stateless person?!" Stark raised his voice.
"And now you can't even meet your parents, whom you have been longing to see. You must have learned from another Stark about their return. Howard must be really disappointed in you because you're doing even worse than he did at his lowest point."
"Shiller!!!!"
Watching Shiller, who seemed to have lost all spirit, Stark took a deep breath, decided not to argue with him, and said, "I think that island's model is quite good. What do you think?"
"It's just scraps and leftovers." Shiller muttered with his eyes closed, "All thanks to Arrogant, that student of mine who keeps nagging about being short on money at High Tower. I gave him a discounted plan."
"How much for a plan?"
"That depends on how much money you want to make." Shiller's voice was getting weaker, clearly half-asleep, but he persisted.
"What if I want to earn back Stark Group?"
Shiller suddenly sat up.
Crossing his arms and placing them on his legs, he smiled at Stark and said, "Do you have any specific requirements for the plan?"
"You're not tired anymore?"
"I just had a good nap. Come on, tell me your requirements. I will send you the plan tonight."
By the time White Can left, it was already noon. Merkel called Shiller downstairs to eat, and Shiller truly felt hungry. He weighed eating against sleeping and decided that he wouldn't be able to sleep on an empty stomach, so he chose to go downstairs to eat.
He had just sat down at the dining table when his phone rang. Gordon's voice came from the other end, "There's trouble, Professor. Turn on the TV, quick."
Shiller was clueless, so Merkel already pressed the remote control button, turning to the news channel. A pair of pointy ears appeared on the screen.
What truly surprised Shiller was the image on the screen. A camera was inside a chemical factory, above a huge chemical tank where a bunch of people were tied up, their mouths sealed with tape, some with guns in their pockets.
"Do you know who I am?" A deep, hoarse voice appeared on the screen. The figure with long pointy ears only revealed its shadow, and everyone watching the live broadcast heard him say,
"Yet another bunch of fools have intruded into my city. They must pay the price for that. Gotham is not a playground for just anyone. Remember, I am the night, I am vengeance, I am... Batman."
Shiller slapped his forehead.
"Batman?" Merkel raised his voice, exclaiming in disbelief.
"He's not even a fart's worth of Batman." Shiller finally lost his composure.