Shiller, Xi Wana, Raven, and Dick sat at the dining table, with Shiller explaining the real-name system plan of the Magic realm in a very relaxed tone.
"Due to a shortage of manpower, the investigation adopts a strategy of using acquaintances; basically, it's about who knows whom for those non-human creatures."
"Then Constantine must be incredibly busy," Dick said.
"He's not suitable," Shiller shook his head and said, "He indeed knows everyone, but the feeling isn't mutual, and having a grilled whole fish count how many whiskers a cat has is a bit too advanced."
Dick thought of something funny and chuckled, but Raven was puzzled and said, "Well, since coming here I've realized that many people are familiar with angels and demons, I'm not particularly special, but the Sanguine Demon… He is my father, he…"
"But he hasn't done anything bad to you for now," Shiller said, "He hasn't hurt you, invaded your hometown, or Earth for that matter, so it's safe for you to look for him now."
"Do we have to go looking for him?" Dick asked. "Can't we use some kind of Summoning Formation to summon him here, or something like a token?"
Everyone looked at Raven, who shook her head and said, "In fact, aside from seeing him in my dreams, I haven't actually met him, nor has he left me any token... Wait, it seems like my mother..."
Raven fell into thought and after a few seconds, she said, "There might be clues among my mother's relics, but even if I find something related to him, I don't know how to summon him."
"You're only responsible for finding the token, someone else will figure out the Summoning Formation."
"I need to return to Azarath," Raven stood up and said. "Professor Zatara once asked me if I wanted to let the children of Azarath come here to study, I need to consult the High Priest."
"May I join you?" Dick asked, looking up at her.
Raven's face suddenly turned red, and seeing this, both Shiller and Xi Wana also stood up and said, "You two sort it out, give us a call when you have news, we're going to check out the principal's office."
As they walked out of the dining hall, Xi Wana said, "I think the chances of those two getting together are quite high, what do you think?"
"Dick's personality is very good," Shiller said. "His character is the most stable among all members of the Batman Family; he is a rare normal person in Gotham, which is a great temptation for someone who has hardly ever dealt with normal people."
"I guess that's part of his charm," Xi Wana said. "And he looks exactly like the type of guy a naive girl like Raven would fall for."
"Have you ever been in love?" Shiller asked.
"During my studies and work, many people have pursued me, but I wasn't interested in romance; it takes too much time. What about you?"
"It can't be called being in love," Shiller said.
Somehow, Xi Wana thought of those pictures he saw, the Christmas tree that seemed like it had been airlifted straight from a Mexican Day of the Dead party.
He shivered and decided to drop the subject.
"Regarding that Officer Clay…" Xi Wana said with a tone of deep resignation. "I can't imagine living surrounded by such people, and how long will they linger around my house?"
"I'll handle that, Mr. Principal, we've arrived at the office."
Xi Wana pushed open the door of the office, an impressively dignified room, still lavish with a brownish-red color scheme. A huge glowing Earth floated in the center of the room, with all the wall space on the ground floor occupied with bookshelves, and only after stepping onto the floating staircase did one reach the desk and reception area.
Unlike the bright and spacious common resting area of the Theoretical Studies Academy, most of the windows here were situated high up, arranged in long, dense strips, and as light shone down from above, a visible Tyndall effect occurred, preventing the space from being too bright—indeed, it was somewhat dim, which Xi Wana quite liked.
"Had I not known that I hadn't come in contact with you before, I would almost think you had targeted me long ago, and this office was custom-made for me," Xi Wana said. "I've always believed that overly bright spaces are not conducive to thinking, this is just right."
"Everyone says sunshine is good, but light can also be quite stimulating to people," Shiller said. "Excessively bright light can indeed have an effect on human psychology, and this principle is often used in modern interrogations."
"Professor, no offense, but you seem very knowledgeable about law enforcement agencies, far beyond hearsay. Have you worked for them?" Xi Wana asked with some curiosity.
"That was a long time ago," Shiller said as he settled into a single-seater sofa and continued, "Due to a small mistake, or more precisely, an accident that led to a series of unfortunate events—for me those were unfortunate, for them it was probably like manna from heaven."
"You chose to cooperate with them?"
Shiller nodded nonchalantly and said, "If you truly understood the content of their work, you'd realize that helping them isn't about making the country better—that's never been the case, or perhaps quite the opposite."
"I agree with that point, but I still find it hard to imagine," Xi Wana said. "I don't think they could have threatened you, and you have countless reasons not to compromise."
Shiller rarely showed a trace of hesitation, and he said, "If you knew what I did, you might not think so."
Ignoring Xi Wana's inquisitive gaze, Shiller said, "I will handle the law enforcement. What worries me more is whether you can handle the presidency of the two schools."
"Currently, Gotham University is more troublesome," Xi Wana said. "Due to the poor economic situation, I'll focus my work there. For the Magic Academy, I will let it operate for a while to identify any issues after I complete the initial overall planning."
Shiller nodded. The most important reason he wanted Xi Wana to take on the management of both academies wasn't just because the capable should work harder, but also because Xi Wana was relatively cautious and conservative.
Such people might have been criticized for lacking ambition and decisiveness during the golden age, but in times of great depression, they were the most suitable candidates. Shiller didn't want to deal with a hothead who dragged everyone into trouble with them. Given the context of the times, no one could afford to make mistakes, and the attitude of preferring not to act rather than erring was justified.
Shiller soon left the inner world because there was a pile of trouble waiting for him in the real world.
After returning to reality, he found the trouble to be bigger than he'd imagined. He had just returned to his house when he heard the doorbell ring. Opening the door, he was greeted by Officer Clay.
"Hello sir, I'm the new community officer. May I have your name and age? We need to collect this information for our records."
Looking at the police badge hanging around Clay's neck, Clay immediately took it off and handed it to Shiller. When Shiller opened it to look, ink still fresh, it was definitely Gordon's doing.
The cunning police chief didn't want to deal with these stupid clones himself and tossed them over for artificial intelligence optimization.
But it didn't matter, Shiller thought, it even conveniently served his plans.
After seeing the visitor off, Shiller called Gordon and said, "Listen, I have a plan... Of course, it's about these damned clones. You need to first..."
After hanging up, Shiller went to his backyard, remembering the big pit filled with skinless limbs.
There hadn't been enough soil to fill the pit, just a shallow covering, and now there was a stench; fortunately, it was cold enough to slow down the rotting process.
Just leaving them there or adding more soil to bury them deeper wouldn't do. The pit was too shallow, and regardless of whether others discovered them, Shiller couldn't stand the smell.
Using the gardening tools he had bought, Shiller wet the soil, and packed it with limbs into bags. After tying the bags tightly, he put them in the trunk of his car and drove near Piero's house, his late neighbor.
Standing outside the yard and noticing no one around, he easily climbed over the wall.
His neighbor, a motorcycle enthusiast, had a large workshop in the backyard with plenty of vehicle repair equipment and a comprehensive set of hardware tools.
Dismemberment was a big job, and the Bone Chopper at Shiller's home was almost worn out. Using a knife to cut through bone wasn't efficient; axes or heavy hammers were better for breaking the bones before cutting.
Shiller scoured for tools: three precision axes, two hammers, several hand saws, plus a wire saw and a small grinder, many heavy metal parts, and a bunch of fishing lines and ropes.
He took a detour to the side of the lawn at the back of his house, next to a small forest which led to a lake.
Shiller could see the forest and lake from his backyard, but it was a long walk, visible and open. However, driving was easy with just a turn to get there.
This primitive forest, almost unnoticed when crossed, led to the lakeside.
Once by the lake, Shiller took out the limbs, put on gloves, and started the meticulous work of tying with fishing lines.
Attaching the line directly to the bags and sinking them to the bottom of the lake wouldn't work, as the bags would deteriorate faster than the limbs, which would float up and possibly drift downstream.
Tying each piece with a fishing line was implausible—too tedious and wasteful. Bunching them together wouldn't work either, as different rates of decay could lead to some detaching and surfacing.
So, Shiller had to separate the limbs by their decomposition rates. Unsure if clones decayed like humans, he went ahead with the human methodology.
He skillfully sorted the flesh chunks, barely recognizable, and expertly wove fishing lines and ropes through them, securing them firmly.
He then threaded the ends of the fishing lines with heavy metal parts, adjusting the weight for balance.
The setting sun's rays pierced the shimmering water, the rich water systems of the Americas nurturing numerous aquatic creatures that darted in the fading light.
Only the sinking objects, churning bubbles all the way to the bottom, remained unseen by the joyous fish—above them, a man with gloved hands turned away, his face impassive just moments before.