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Chapter 470: Is Schiller Crazy? (2)

"Um, hello? Is this Arkham Asylum? Yeah, it's Brand speaking. Victor. We met during the gathering. Have you seen Schiller recently?... Oh, I see. Well, the thing is, I'm a bit worried about his mental state. Would you consider inviting him for a visit?... His behavior? It's hard to explain... In the office at Gotham University, Victor stood with one hand on his hip and the other holding the telephone. He continued, "You have no idea how alarming it is. He managed to finish his meal in just 15 minutes, and he even started eating broccoli!"

"Remember that time we had dinner at Wayne Grand Hotel? He went out of his way to find the kitchen and shot at a broccoli! Before that, he kept telling me he would never use a gun..." Victor switched the telephone to his other hand, and the hand holding the telephone gradually became younger. The telephone changed from blue to black. Bruce held the telephone and said on the other end, "Yes, Dr. Brand, the situation is quite serious. Despite knowing he had a class at 10 o'clock, he didn't leave until 9:30."

"And he didn't try to take any other teacher's class to make up for it. He didn't mention it at all today, didn't assign more homework, nor did he mention any exams tomorrow..."???

"Even after being late due to Gotham's traffic, he didn't go to bother the mayor. I think you'd better get him some treatment soon, or I can't imagine what he might do..." "Dr. Brand, I found your number in the telephone directory. I hope you don't mind my intrusion. I am Mr. Rodriguez's butler, Merkel." Standing beside the telephone table, Merkel lowered his voice and said, "Could you come by tomorrow?... Oh, I see. So, you don't provide home visits?" "Yes, I understand. The pressure of treating mental illnesses for an entire city falls on one hospital; you must be very busy..." "Right, I hope you could make an appointment with Mr. Schiller. Though it's a bit offensive for a butler to say such things, his condition is indeed a bit... worrisome." "Yes, that's not all. He hasn't even frowned once the entire day. I think it's really dangerous." "Alright, looking forward to receiving your invitation in the mailbox tomorrow. Thank you very much, Mr. Brand."

The next morning, Schiller got up early as usual. He stood by the window, stretched lazily, and yawned. After washing up in the bathroom, he went downstairs. However, this time, Merkel was up even earlier. When he saw Schiller coming down, he extended his hand to greet him, "Morning, sir. Breakfast is ready." Schiller nodded and walked towards the dining table. As he sat down to eat, he noticed Merkel was still standing by the door, looking out the window. "Why are you standing there? Aren't you eating?" "Thank you, sir, but I've already had breakfast," Merkel replied and turned his head back to the window. Schiller didn't understand what was going on, but he shook his head and didn't ask further. Instead, he lowered his head and started eating.

After a while, the gentle sound of a bicycle bell rang outside. Merkel immediately opened the door and walked out, the newsboy waved at him, and Merkel handed him a prepared loaf of bread. The newsboy first took out a newspaper from his pocket, and after Merkel accepted it, the newsboy took out a letter and said, "This is an urgent letter, but the postage has been paid by the sender." "Do you know what? You are more dedicated than a professional mail carrier. I thought it wouldn't arrive this morning." Merkel praised. The newsboy sneered, "Mail carrier? They wouldn't last two days in Gotham!"

"I know all the shortcuts from the South District to the West District. I can get here in less than an hour, faster than those fancy gentlemen who drive." Merkel gave him a thumbs-up and then took out a few coins and handed them to the newsboy, saying, "Thank you." "Oh, wait, I can't accept this." The newsboy suddenly returned the money. Merkel looked at him in surprise, and the newsboy shrugged, "Things have changed now." "You know Copperpot from the North District? The Falcone family put him in charge of all the kids in Gotham. He's implemented some strict rules."

"I can't explain the details, but we're not allowed to accept tips anymore. If someone reports it, I'll lose my job."

"I don't want to lose such a profitable job. I worked hard to take over all the work in West District. Since Copperpot got rid of those annoying parents, all the money I earn is my own. If they don't let me work, it will be a disaster." Seeing Merkel hesitating and not accepting the coins, the newsboy simply threw them back. As Merkel caught the coins, he saw the newsboy's receding figure. He shook his head and returned to the Manor.

When the letter was delivered to Schiller, he had just finished eating. He looked up at Merkel, who smiled at him. Schiller picked up the envelope and opened it, finding a letter from Brand. After a brief moment of recollection, he said, "I have class this afternoon, so I'll go in the evening, alright?" "Okay, I'll call Mr. Brand on the telephone later." "Wait, why didn't he directly call me to invite me over?" "Because this is a formal invitation, and formal invitations require written invitations. For private gatherings, you can just call on the telephone." "Then I'll call him later." Merkel hesitated and rubbed his palms, saying, "Sir, it's better if I do it. Because the person on the other end of the telephone might not be Mr. Brand." "Then I'll have that person find Mr. Brand." "I can call first, and after finding Mr. Brand on the other end, I'll have you take the telephone..." Schiller covered his forehead with some helplessness and stopped arguing. By the time he finished his meal and rushed to school, it was already afternoon.

In the classroom, Schiller first explained the reason for his tardiness. He thought some students might have objections, but to his surprise, everyone expressed understanding, almost praising him for being late. Before starting the class, just like many university professors do, Schiller intended to chat with the students about daily topics to relax the atmosphere and create a closer distance. However, all the students sat nervously in their seats, none of them engaging in conversation.

... When it was time for interactive discussions with the groups below, Schiller asked them to discuss among themselves. To his surprise, the students looked at him with blank expressions. Schiller paused for a moment and then realized that it was still 1988, not the modern teaching style. Moreover, he remembered that DC Schiller's teaching style was strictly based on the book, requiring students to memorize and recite until they were well-versed.

Schiller lowered his head and looked through his lesson plan. He realized that he wasn't teaching at Harvard or any Ivy League school; the students here hadn't reached the level of flexible learning yet, and memorization was more suitable for them.

After the class, Schiller wasn't in a good mood. On one hand, the classroom feedback wasn't great; he wasn't accustomed to the one-way knowledge output mode. On the other hand, he felt that the people in Gotham were a bit peculiar. For some reason, his acquaintances had a special attitude towards him—fear mixed with worry, worry with concern, and a hint of sympathy.

As Schiller thought this way and packed his things, he left Gotham University and drove to Arkham Asylum. He had no idea why Brand suddenly asked him to come over, but he felt that talking to a colleague might help release some of the emotional pressure.

At Arkham Asylum, Brand was already waiting for him at the entrance. They shook hands and hugged each other. Brand asked, "It's been a while. How have you been recently?" "Not bad," Schiller gave a vague answer. Then, he suddenly remembered something and asked, "By the way, how is Hugo Strange doing?" "Oh, him. Last time, I found him fainting in the examination room, so I moved him to a hospital room. When he woke up, he became a bit crazy, constantly mumbling about monsters and impossibilities, and even attacked the nurses." "How did you handle it?" "What else could I do? He obviously had some mental issues. It's probably a case of the physician becoming the patient. He's receiving treatment, and we've tried some calming therapies and medication, but the effect isn't very apparent."

As they walked inside, they reached Brand's office. Brand changed the topic and said, "Let's not talk about him. Tell me about yourself. You don't seem to be in good spirits lately." Schiller touched his face and said, "Really? Maybe I haven't been sleeping well lately." "I see. Victor called me and mentioned that you've been under some pressure. Would you like to take a mental self-assessment?" Schiller hesitated for a moment but agreed, "Alright."

Brand took out some documents from a drawer, and Schiller started answering the questions with a pen. After finishing, he handed the papers to Brand. The more Brand looked at them, the more worried he became. He shook his head and said, "Have you encountered something recently?" "Not really. If I have to say, something did happen during my trip to Metropolis. Oh, I haven't told you about my experience in Metropolis, it was quite thrilling..."

"When I first arrived there, there was a murder case, and then Agents sealed off the entire Manor, and then..." "... Wait, Agents??" Brand suddenly frowned. He stood up, walked to the door, looked left and right in the corridor, and then went to the window, drawing all the curtains closed. Finally, he sat back at his desk and looked at Schiller with concern, "They found you again, didn't they?" Before Schiller could answer, Brand sighed deeply and continued, "I told you before, choosing this path is dangerous. And now look at what's happening?"

"Moreover, you came to Gotham to hide, and yet you went out and walked into another trap in Metropolis. Did those Agents discover your identity? You shouldn't have shown any loopholes to them, right?" Schiller widened his eyes in shock, and as Brand observed his expression, he spoke with a mix of frustration, "During school, you studied Marx, and I didn't want to stop you; everyone has the freedom to pursue their beliefs."

"After graduation, you said you wanted to go to Berlin, and I didn't say anything; everyone has the choice to follow their own path." "After starting your job, you spent some time in Moscow, and I didn't say anything either. Although our beliefs differ, friends should be tolerant of each other." "But what I truly can't understand is, you joined the KGB and then regretted it!"

"If you didn't want to complete the mission in the first place, why did you accept it?!" It seemed that Brand had been holding these words for a long time, and his tone was filled with anger. "Back then, because you severed ties with Moscow, the KGB suspected you and you sought refuge in Gotham. And now, you willingly left Gotham to get involved in another rotten mess in Metropolis?!" "Schiller, I really don't know what you're thinking, jumping back and forth between so many forces. Are you afraid that you won't die?"

Sitting in his chair, Schiller swallowed hard. At this moment, both he and the DC Schiller in the Temple of Thought had the same perplexed question, "Is there something wrong with me?"

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THIS CHAPTER UPLOAD FIRST AT NOVELBIN.COM