Chapter 1775: Summer in Fool

By the thirty-fourth time Talia hesitated over whether or not to crawl out of bed, her willpower was given a fierce kick by the aroma wafting up from downstairs.

This was completely unreasonable, Talia thought. Her room's location within the Rodriguez Manor was roughly equivalent to the distance between Texas and the rest of the United States; there was no way this damn scent could drift through layers of corridors to reach her here.

Unless they hadn't drifted in through the corridors at all.

Talia pressed her middle and ring fingers against her still-throbbing forehead. Disheveled and in disarray, she walked to the window and pulled back the heavy curtains with a sweep of her arm. Instantly, a rich, intense aroma rushed into her nose.

When she looked down, she saw Schiller standing by the edge of the flower pavilion's transparent glass door, looking up at her.

Talia let out a faint, pained groan. The most damnably infuriating part was that even though she knew the ingredients in the large pot on the picnic table were likely no less potent than those in a witch's cauldron, she still wanted to gorge herself, because she was truly, ravenously hungry.

Usually, hunger wasn't a problem. Talia could remain motionless even when delicious food was placed before her and she was hungry to the point of human limits, but not now.

She didn't know why it wasn't now. She didn't know that the human body was actually more precise than she imagined. The most precise part was that she operated on the principle of a tension wire: an over-tightened wire had only two outcomes—either it snapped, or, after being relaxed, it lost its elasticity and could never be pulled that tight again.

The human spirit had its limits. If the mental torture Talia had endured before was merely slowly pulling the wire tight, then Schiller had essentially played a Paganini piece on it with a violin bow.

And then he had pulled his hand back, Talia thought with a sense of despair, leaving the snapped string to dangle alone on the instrument. So why couldn't she make some sound on her own?

Talia jumped straight down from the third floor.

Butler Merkel, standing on the other side of the flower pavilion, looked even more nervous than he had when he was kidnapped. He stared with wide eyes as Talia stood up straight in the bushes, reached out to rake back her wild black hair, and brushed the leaves off her silk pajamas.

Only then did Talia see clearly that a picnic table was set up inside the pavilion, but behind it was a small, round, lacquered-red barbecue grill. Fallen monstera leaves acted like natural fans, and the white steam looked innocent and harmless against the green backdrop.

Pamela sat behind the grill, picking at meat with tongs. The meat looked very fresh—a deep, purplish-red that appeared quite bewitching against the backdrop of large, lush green plants.

Schiller was placing plates on the picnic table. Merkel, clutching a pile of rotten leaves he'd cleared from the pavilion, walked unsteadily toward the distance. Two children played tag through the transparent glass door, and the gust of wind blew up a corner of the tablecloth; a strong hand reached over to smooth out the wrinkles with its fingers.

As if smoothing out other things, Talia thought dazedly. But for some reason, what surfaced in her mind wasn't a plaid dress more similar to the bright checkered tablecloth—what was it?

Talia shook her head slightly, shaking off the stray association. She lifted the hem of her pajamas, kicked off her slippers one by one, and walked barefoot outside the flower pavilion.

"Your figure is a bit taller than Anna's, but I only have the pajamas she left behind. I'm grateful she didn't drink until she vomited all over herself after the party."

"Is she your colleague?"

"Yes, a respectable mathematician." Schiller opened the door of the flower pavilion for Talia, and Talia scooped up her hem and strode inside.

Pamela, who was deboning meat behind the grill, raised an eyebrow at Talia, but Talia really didn't have the time to play along with her now. She was starving to the point of madness; even if the pot contained the entire periodic table, she would still devour it ravenously.

"You look like you're starving, but unfortunately, you can't find a decent chef in Cat Getan right now. The meal was prepared by my butler, and it's not quite suitable for this season."

Schiller stepped aside. Talia followed suit and leaned her head in to glance at the pot. Very good. She had felt something was off about this butler named Merkel before; if he were truly one of those weak-willed Brits, he should have burst into tears the moment she grabbed his throat.

Borscht was indeed completely unsuitable for this season, but Talia thought there was nothing better for her stomach right now than a high-calorie soup. After all, if she had to fill her stomach with cold Spanish ham, she might end up gnawing through an entire pig.

Schiller had already brought over a large wooden ladle and, without a moment's hesitation, served Talia a large bowl of soup. As she sat at the table holding the bowl, she looked up at Schiller and said, "I thought your banquet would be more..."

"More what?"

"I don't know, like the ones I've attended before: a heavy long table, a tablecloth without a single wrinkle, and a table full of dishes whose aesthetic value far outweighs their taste."

"You have a surprising sense of humor, Miss Talia." Schiller smiled, moved the pot a little further away, and said, "If I could, I would like to host such a banquet, but unfortunately, the scorching heat has swallowed almost all of Cat Getan's famous chefs as well as the guests on the invitation list. Food safety is also hard to guarantee; high temperatures cause meat to rot extremely quickly."

Talia couldn't help but look at the meat Pamela was processing. The color was a bit strange—deeper than any raw meat Pamela had ever seen—and there was very little fascia, with almost no scent of blood.

"What kind of meat is that?"

"Moose meat. Have you had it before?" Schiller began arranging cold dishes on a plate—still cheese, ham, vegetable salad, and the like. The aroma was completely masked by the hot soup in the pot.

Talia took a sip of the soup in her bowl and let out an irrepressible sigh of satisfaction. She could feel how much butter was in it; she even started to feel a little grateful for Russian history, culture, and weather.

"Regarding our previous topic..." Schiller lowered his voice slightly. Talia wasn't sure if she heard tenderness in that deep tone, but she saw Schiller clearly signal toward Pamela with his eyes.

Talia asked, "What's wrong?"

"Bruce sent her here. She didn't want to come."

Talia raised an eyebrow. She thought she understood Schiller's implication. She finished the solids in the soup as quickly as possible with her spoon, drank a few cautious sips of the broth, then stood up from the chair by the picnic table and sat on a small stool next to the grill.

"Are you Bruce's girlfriend?"

"Obviously I'm not." Pamela glared fiercely at Talia and said, "That's just their rumor."

"Then why are you here in his place?"

Pamela lowered her eyes and said, "Because I don't want the rumors to continue."

"Because becoming Bruce Wei En's girlfriend would bring you unimaginable, massive trouble, hmm?" Talia raised an eyebrow, full of an indescribable, gorgeous charm.

"He is intentionally letting these rumors spread." Pamela rubbed her furrowed brow with two fingers, her tone laced with a hint of pain. She said, "I haven't actually gained anything from him, but he lets people think so. When those people cause me trouble out of jealousy, he acts very happy. The damn sadist."

Talia withdrew her gaze, the smile in her eyes gradually fading. She began to poke at the charcoal in the grill, but it seemed like she was just finding something for her hands to do. Soon, half-insincerely and half-sincerely, she said, "It seems we've both encountered some trouble with him."

"And it's not just the two of us." Pamela snorted coldly, then said, "Do you know he has a fiancée?"

Talia certainly knew, but she still acted somewhat surprised and said, "Not a girlfriend?"

"No. She used to live at Wei En Manor and helped Bruce raise his children—not his adopted wards, but his own biological daughter."

These intelligence reports had shown this, but there were still things Talia hadn't investigated. Although she didn't expect Pamela to have intelligence, she still asked, "Bruce Wei En doesn't seem to have a marital history."

"Obviously, another victim." The short deboning knife stabbed into the thigh meat. Pamela lowered her head gloomily, continuing her work, and said, "Of course, the whole world thinks his philandering is only natural. Aren't you also rushing to climb into his bed?"

Talia skillfully avoided the topic, but she thought this might be a good opportunity. Of course, it had nothing to do with her original plan to obtain Batman's DNA.

Now she realized that if Batman were truly a scumbag without a moral bottom line, then there was probably no other way than to find a way to knock him out and forcibly obtain his DNA.

But Batman would certainly be very vigilant, so Talia knew she needed to find a way to keep him occupied. In short, cause Batman some trouble.

"People laugh off a rich man's love life because you can't say the targets he's entangled with are completely innocent." Talia tucked her black hair behind her ear and said, "Most people like his money, and some just like the vanity that comes with having the world's richest man as a boyfriend. But if he's abusing these girls, that's a different matter, right?"

"What counts as abuse?" Pamela shrugged and said, "He hasn't hit me or scolded me. People will say I spread the rumors myself to threaten Bruce into making it real."

"In reality, he's the one doing it." Talia stared intently into Pamela's eyes and said, "He enjoys manipulating these girls, watching them suffer. Even if they are too difficult to deal with, he will resort to illegal means... Has he drugged you?"

Pamela opened her eyes wide and said, "Of course not."

"Is that so? Not a single suspicious moment? Like sudden dizziness, lack of concentration, or something like that?"

Pamela pursed her lips, revealing a hesitant expression. She shook her head and said, "How do you distinguish that from the exhaustion of staying up late? Come on, this isn't a courtroom cross-examination."

"Have you discussed these issues with your professor, Pamela?" Schiller asked.

Pamela shook her head and said, "That's my private business."

"Perhaps that's exactly what he's counting on." Schiller said while smoothing out the wrinkles in the tablecloth, "He knows that society will place immense pressure on any woman who stands up to point him out. People will say you took money and received expensive gifts, so you voluntarily accepted the mental abuse. Even if you take a step back, they'll only say you fell into a gold-digging trap and deserved it."

"Regardless, Pamela." Schiller turned to look at Pamela and said, "The professors at Cat Getan University will stand on the side of justice and fairness. We will not bow to money or public opinion."

At this moment, Talia stood up. She revealed a smile, her eyes flashing with light, and said, "Professor Schiller, perhaps you could introduce me to a good doctor?"

"What are you going to do?"

"Drug residue testing." ===== CHAPTER 1776 =====