Chapter 181

"Although the process was complicated, in summary, the Owl Court is up to no good."

"They forged your personality but never told you the truth, making you believe you were truly Falcone's son."

"But Falcone felt his son had been replaced, and that you were a monster they had shoved upon him, so he came to hate you."

"Falcone lost his son, and you lost your father—it truly is a tragedy."

"But in this story, there is only one innocent person..."

Alberto lowered his eyes and said, as if mocking himself: "When Yin Wensi is awake, I can see everything he sees and possess his memories, but he cannot see mine, so he knows nothing—he still believes he truly had an older brother, and even misses him."

"If you truly intend to seek revenge against Falcone, Yin Wensi will lose both his older brother and his father. Though Falcone never saw you as his son, Yin Wensi truly regarded you as his brother."

Alberto fell silent.

He was a personality conjured out of nothing, a rootless floating weed; Falcone saw him as an interloper, and the Owl Court only viewed him as a tool to fulfill their plan.

At his funeral, not a single person mourned his death. If this floating weed had but one root, and one person who truly remembered him after his death, who created proof that he had ever existed, it was his younger brother, Yin Wensi.

Seeing him fall silent, Shiler turned his attention to Batman and said: "Though your alliance has split in two, it doesn't matter—we can talk about something cheerful. Can you guess how much trouble the Owl Court will face?"

"That madman plans to confront the Court—what reason does he have? And what ability does he possess to do so?"

"Don't you understand yet? He is not like those madmen you see on the streets driven insane by rain—he is entirely different."

"I still don't believe he can take on the Owl Court alone."

"Let's make a bet. I bet the Owl Court will suffer terribly."

Saying this, Shiler picked up the remote and turned the TV back on. After a while of boring television drama, the news report began.

But before the news anchor had delivered a few reports, he suddenly wore a look of terror, then—*bang*—a hole opened in his head.

A burst of laughter echoed, and that familiar figure reappeared on camera. His first words were: "Oh! I'm a criminal! I've killed someone! What do I do?"

*The Great Luo of All Worlds*

"Batman! Come arrest me! I know you're watching from some corner—come catch me, this murderer..."

On his hospital bed, Batman clenched his fists and immediately tried to stand, but then the Joker leaned close to the camera and said: "Are you clenching your fists? Desperately wanting to stand up and come over and beat me?"

"But you can't do that..." He stepped back a few steps, limping slightly, then walked to the dead anchor's body, grabbed his collar, and dragged him in front of the camera.

"Look, here's a dead man—shot in the head with a handgun. And I happen to be holding a handgun."

"But you can't arrest me. Do you know why?"

"A bullet flew into his head, and then I appeared on camera, holding a handgun."

"But no one saw me fire. I'm just an innocent passerby who happened to be holding a handgun with the exact same caliber as the bullet that killed him, standing beside a corpse shot by a handgun."

"What will you do? Beat me up? Assault this innocent passerby?"

"What?" The Joker tilted his head, placing a hand behind his ear as if listening.

"You say I just admitted I killed someone? That I just called myself a criminal?"

"So what? I also said I'm a frog, or a woman, or a stripper..."

The Joker twisted and spun around in front of the camera, then blew a kiss to the screen.

"See? That's how it is. If you come to beat me, I'll—boo-hoo..." The Joker began fake crying, pounding his chest and stomping his feet in theatrical wailing. "Then the audience will see a pervert in a tight suit beating a weak, pitiful passerby..."

"Oh, wait." He suddenly froze, then scratched his head. "No, that's not why I came here. Well, playing with Batman is so fun, I almost forgot my real purpose."

He let out another burst of wild laughter and said: "Do you know the Cat Getan Opera House? You must know! I've prepared for you a huge, huge, HUGE surprise!!!"

"Hear that? The great comedian Jack is now selling tickets! Tonight at midnight—twenty dollars per ticket! Bring your ticket stub and get a bucket of brain-flavored popcorn!!!"

Saying this, he stepped back, tore off a small slip of paper from the anchor's script, and said: "Look—this is your ticket!"

Then he clumsily tore open all the scripts and tossed them into the air; the paper fluttered down like scattered petals. He said: "Call right now to buy tickets! Right now! If you're even a second late..."

A burst of laughter came again, and he added: "You'll miss the greatest comedy show in history!"

The screen returned to static. Shiler yawned, walked to the hospital desk, and muttered to himself: "What's the TV station's phone number again?"

He pulled out his phone book, dialed in circles, and when the line connected, he said: "Hello? Is this the comedian Jack?... Oh, you're too modest—I think your performance just now deserves the title of artist."

"Yes, I'm here to buy tickets. Midnight tonight? I need three tickets... hmm, maybe four. I have a friend with dual personality—he needs two tickets. What? Buy three, get one free? Because I'm the first caller? That's wonderful, thank you."

"How do I pick up the tickets? The TV station mailbox? Got it... I'll leave the money there..."

"Wishing you a successful show. Thank you, goodbye."

After hanging up, he noticed Batman and Alberto staring at him. Shiler shrugged and said: "He's going after the Owl Court anyway—why shouldn't we go watch the spectacle?"

"Besides, though your Avengers Alliance unfortunately split in two, you still need a farewell dinner, don't you?"

At eleven at night, outside the theater, Shiler stepped out of the car. Before he could enter, he spotted an acquaintance—he walked over warmly and shook Gordon's hand. "Detective Gordon, you came too?"

Gordon grumbled: "Even in Cat Getan, where lunatics are everywhere, this one is too insane. Do you know how many emergency calls the police station received in the past few hours?"

"Oh? What happened?"

"This lunatic told Cat Getan's citizens to call the police for help!" Gordon laughed bitterly, emphasizing: "He damn well told Cat Getan's people to call the cops for help!!!"

"That's a good thing—it means tonight will be Cat Getan's most normal night."

"Normal?" Gordon paused. He heard Shiler say: "Detective, I know you disapprove of violence against violence, but in Cat Getan, the best way to fight madness is with madness."

As they spoke, a long luxury car turned into the alley, stopped at the theater entrance, and the driver stepped out to open the door. Out stepped Falcone. Seeing Shiler and Gordon, he walked toward them.

The old patriarch adjusted his cufflinks, speaking as casually as if exchanging pleasantries: "Tickets were hard to get, weren't they? When I called, he told me there were none left. Quite amusing."

"You haven't been refused in many years, have you?"

"Indeed. But he heard I have some influence in the underworld, so he decided to give me special treatment."

Then Father Daniel stepped out of the car, crossed himself over his chest, and said: "Thank you, Carmine—he brought my ticket along. Otherwise, I wouldn't have gotten one."

Shiler told them: "Go ahead and enter. I'm waiting for two friends."

Everyone except Shiler went inside. After a while, the Batmobile rolled up slowly. Batman stepped out, followed by Yin Wensi, who said cheerfully: "Cat Getan hasn't had a performance in a long time. Who's performing tonight? Is there a program? Can I see it?"

"I guess he's already given you a lecture on European theater history, modern opera, and vocal techniques," Shiler walked over and whispered to Batman.

"More than that—he demonstrated them himself," Batman said grimly.

"How was the singing?"

"Alfred would like it."

"Are you saying he's too old-fashioned?"

Yin Wensi caught up, having just heard the last words from Schiller; he said, "Hey! How can you say that? That's called adhering to the classics. I've always felt that those so-called new operas are simply sacrilege..."

The three walked together through the theater's main entrance. Inside, facing them was a huge poster depicting a flock of plucked owls hanging over a pot of oil, with two hands below holding a dinner knife and fork, seemingly preparing to feast.

"Opera and painting?" Schiller murmured under his breath while standing beneath the poster: "Is it the hidden artistry within the personality? Or the underlying longing and fantasy for art?"

Schiller shook his head. He finally understood why the Joker's girlfriend in the original work went mad. The Joker's insane personality was the best research material for any psychologist; when you came into contact with him, it was hard not to analyze and explore.

Schiller held a map of the theater and said, "My manor isn't far from here. A neighbor gave me a map before. Let me see... the ticket window... oh, this way, turn left."

Turning left along the side of the poster, there was a ticket window on the right. He found that there were indeed some popcorn buckets there, but obviously not belonging to this old theater; yet no one eats popcorn while watching an opera.

Was this chaos stemming from the personality's own lack of understanding of art, or from the disordered thinking brought on by madness? Schiller involuntarily began to speculate on the cause again.

He leaned forward, looking inside the ticket booth. Suddenly, a dummy popped up from the floor and lunged straight at Schiller. Schiller sized up the dummy, realizing it must be a tattered puppet left in the opera house's warehouse, something used as a background prop in old stage plays, except that a smiley face had now been painted on its head.

Schiller reached out, pulled the puppet over, flipped it over a few times, and said with some disappointment, "Where's the line? Why isn't that classic line here?"

Just as he was studying the puppet, Yin Wensi took two buckets of popcorn out from the ticket window. He glanced at them and said in surprise, "Why are paper balls inside the popcorn buckets? Where's the popcorn?"

Batman stood behind the two of them, feeling out of place among them.

Yin Wensi handed Batman a bucket of paper balls and said, "Even though there's no real popcorn, this will have to do."

"Didn't you say new operas are sacrilege against the classics? Do you really intend to watch an opera holding a bucket of popcorn?" Schiller turned back to ask him.

"I just like eating popcorn. When I go to the movies, I can never buy popcorn. My father won't let me buy it because there might be a bomb hidden inside."

Batman opened his mouth; he particularly wanted to remind Yin Wensi that the bucket he was holding had a much higher chance of containing a bomb than an ordinary movie theater.

Schiller seemed to see what Batman wanted to say. He said, "Why haven't you figured it out yet? He wouldn't pull such a boring prank. If it's not spectacular enough, it's better to have nothing at all."