Chapter 183: Smile a Little (Part 1)

Several spotlights shone on Batman, making him squint, looking exactly like a bat hanging asleep in a dark cave, suddenly awakened by an explorer's flashlight.

"I advise you not to make a move right now." Shiler turned to look at Batman, but saw no expression on his face; he was different from Bruce when he first started out, and through his outward appearance, it was almost impossible to tell what he was thinking.

"Why?" Batman's voice remained low and deep.

Shiler turned his head back to the stage. The spotlight swept over him, making his lenses flash with bright light. He said, "You need a bit of patience; the good show has only just begun."

"I don't think this is worth watching." Batman remained motionless, his expression serious. He said, "Even if he moved the kidnapping case to a theater, it is still just a crime. He is a madman."

"He is indeed a madman, but different from other madmen."

"How are madmen different?"

"Then why are you sitting here now? Why not rush down immediately to stop him? Although I advised you, I didn't stop you, and I couldn't stop you anyway."

Batman fell silent.

"Because he has piqued your interest. Because you are also wondering how this play will begin."

"Because the Owls are your enemies; perhaps your permissiveness carries the pleasure of revenge."

Batman was about to deny it, but Shiler said, "Watching these actors suffer is indeed interesting, but if you still treat him as an ordinary madman, you will be the one suffering."

Batman's brows furrowed tighter and tighter, but the person on stage shifted his attention back from him. The Joker held the small iron rod used to strike the triangle, extending it to the mouth of a fat man tied up, and said, "Alright, you choose an audience member. Let him read the clue on the ticket to you."

"I, I..." The fat man was covered in sweat. After being suspended by hemp ropes in mid-air for so long, his constitution was already exhausted. The Joker puckered his lips, suddenly straightened his body, then swept the hair on both sides behind his ears, revealing his eyes.

He deliberately kicked his legs forward and stepped, marching like a soldier, walking over to another man nearby, taking off the glasses on the man's face, and putting them on his own.

He placed the small iron rod at his mouth as if holding a microphone, cleared his throat, and said, "Next, for your in-depth analysis, brought to you by Jack, the world's most professional psychology expert."

Shiler squinted in the audience seats. Evans instinctively shifted to the side of the aisle, seeming to want to stay further away from his professor.

"What a disgrace, buddy." The Joker walked back to the fat man and said, "Your arrogant attitudes are all built on safe environments. You stand in a safe conference room in suits and leather shoes, using the family fortunes accumulated by your ancestors as capital, thinking you control everything, indulging in the pleasure of being the mastermind behind the scenes."

"But when your so-called unbreakable great beliefs hit reality, they turn into the pain of losing vested interests. Actually, you are no different from ordinary people who would be heartbroken for a whole night over losing five dollars."

"All great goals eventually turn into the most mediocre regret and heartache. And when you truly become one with the ordinary people, you lose everything."

"After this, what is left? A bloated, obese body? A soul with no novelty?"

"As actors, you are such failures, unable even to put on a good play on your own."

"What are you thinking? I know, I know everything. Begging a madman for mercy is so difficult..."

A wheezing sound came from the fat man's mouth; his face turned bright red.

Just as the Joker said, even a self-proclaimed clever mastermind, when hung by a hemp rope on stage and exposed to everyone's observation of his disgrace, cannot remain calm and indifferent.

"Since you don't want to choose, I'll choose for you." The Joker adjusted his glasses, then said, "I suppose our Professor Rodriguez has been waiting for a long time."

The fat man choked as if suddenly strangled. He squeezed out a few words from between his teeth: "No! No... this doesn't follow the rules..."

"Shut up!" The Joker suddenly went mad again. He took the small iron rod and furiously whipped the fat man's face, preventing him from speaking any words of rebuttal.

The fat man seemed afraid he would do something even more extreme and stammered, falling silent.

Shiler stood up from his chair. He said, "It is an honor to be the first, but before that, regarding this game, I have a better suggestion. Do you want to hear it?"

The Joker also squinted, looking at him. Everyone could feel the solidified atmosphere in the arena, as if an invisible struggle had begun, two madmen clashing by invading each other's domains of pride.

"A better suggestion?" The Joker emphasized the word heavily. He bared his teeth and said, "You'd better ensure this suggestion is good, otherwise I'll consider you forfeiting..."

"Of course, this gentleman wants me to tell him the clue, but he can't give me nothing in return. I hope to add a rule: if they want to get this clue, they must agree to one request from the audience."

After the Joker was stunned for a few seconds, he burst into mad laughter. He said, "Oh, you are truly a genius!"

Suddenly, his face darkened again. He said, "Do you think I would say that? A terrible idea!"

Shiler interrupted what he was about to say next. He continued, "Alright, then I withdraw this suggestion. I only have one question: Can I lie?"

The Joker stared straight at him, his mouth corners turning sharply downward. He muttered in a low voice, "I knew it. I hate that name."

"You might as well let this gentleman make the decision: agree to one of my requests and get the real clue, or do nothing and face the possibility of getting a lie."

"Agree to him! Haru!" A sharp female voice rang out. A woman hanging higher up shouted, "Agree to his request! Do you want us all to get fake answers? Then we will die!"

Another male voice chimed in, "That's right, we choose the first one!"

Shiler patted the back of the chair in front of him, making a little noise, and said, "I am letting this gentleman choose."

"He is just a low-level councilor; he represents nothing..."

"Yes, that's right!"

"How can such an important decision be left to a low-level councilor?"

"We should vote; votes should be distributed according to rank..."

"Only high-level councilors can make decisions; don't you forget..."

"You old fossils! At a time like this, you are still thinking about..."

The Joker's shoulders suddenly began to shake. His laughter changed from a low chuckle to loud laughter. After a while, as if tired from laughing, he wiped his eyes and said, "This is really... a bit interesting."

That Haru trembled. His fat lips moved, spitting out a few words. He said, "I choose... I choose the first one. I can agree to one of his requests. Please tell me the real answer!"

Before the Joker could preside, Shiler went through the next procedure himself. He said, "Alright, my request is—take off the mask, Mr."

"No! No... I can't..." That Haru screamed in terror, his eyes constantly glancing toward Falcone.

"I regret it!!! I want to choose the second one..."

"You don't have another chance." The Joker said with a grin, "You already said you would agree to his request."

Saying this, he yanked the fat man's mask off, revealing the fat head and big ears underneath.

"Wild Boar Harris." Falcone smiled, obviously recognizing him. He said, "Didn't your father Bruno teach you? If you put on a mask, never take it off."

Haru was already ashen. His true identity was exposed. Not just him, but his family, his power, and his assets would all fail to see tomorrow's sun.

The mask does not fear the Godfather, but the person beneath the mask does. The mask will not die, but the person beneath the mask will.

The people on stage who had been arguing incessantly fell silent. The Joker ran to the center of the stage again, opened his arms, tilted his head, and asked them, "Why are you so serious? He chose the result you wanted. Why don't you smile happily?"

"Mr. Jack, can I announce the answer now?" Shiler acted like an emotionless NPC going through the motions.

The Joker showed a disappointed expression like a child. He said, "What a pity. I should have designed an interview segment here. I wanted to play a bit longer."

Disregarding his reaction, Schiller picked up the crumpled note, unfolded it, and read aloud: "Artemis is more beautiful than Athena..."

Visible to the naked eye, the group hanging on the stage paused for a moment, then fell silent as if each harbored their own thoughts.

The Joker tapped the triangular iron in his hand and shouted loudly, "Alright, this scene is over. Next! Next! You, sit down quickly; it's no longer your business..."

1200ksw.

Schiller sat down obediently. Batman said to him, "You truly are a devil."

"Likewise."

Next, the Joker walked beside a tall, thin man and struck him hard on the ear with the triangular iron, shaking him so violently that he swayed desperately, trying to escape this madman.

"Your turn. Who will you choose?"

"I choose... I choose Little Falcone!"

The Joker first jerked the corners of his mouth sharply downward, then twitched the muscles around his nose, revealing a somewhat ruthless expression, before laughing again.

"Then! Welcome, Evans Falcone!"

He waved his arm, and a spotlight stopped on Evans. Schiller, standing by the filming chair back, shouted loudly, "I protest! Why does his entrance have a host introduction? And a spotlight following him? This is discrimination! We all bought tickets; we spent the same amount of money!"

"Protest denied."

The Joker turned his gaze back to Evans. Evans paused, seemingly not expecting anyone to choose him. Three minutes into the opening of this drama, he still couldn't figure out what was happening, and now he was busy unfolding the paper balls from his popcorn bucket, testing whether they could be pieced together into a complete sheet of paper...

Suddenly, he twitched, a gloomy expression crawling onto his face. He stood up and said first, "First, my name is not Evans."

He revealed a cold, sinister smile and said to that tall, thin man, "Second, you can make another choice. Choose one? Or choose two?"

"I choose two, I choose two! Now it's his turn to give the answer!"

Alberto's voice rang out coldly, "The answer is that the button in your hand corresponds to that fat man."

When this sentence left Alberto's mouth and fell to the ground, the entire hall fell silent; not a single person had expected this answer.

The answer Schiller had read out earlier was like a mythological riddle, filled with incomprehensible metaphors; even for Gothamites, it was a bit too early, but the next second, the answer Alberto threw out was so blunt.

It was like a problem where the first sub-question asked you to find the general solution to a differential equation, while the second sub-question asked what you had eaten this morning.

"Wait!" said the tall, thin man who was hanging, "You are lying; this is completely different from the first answer..."

"Because you chose two, this might indeed be a lie," Alberto said with a shrug.

But the tall, thin man heard his companions beside him begin to whisper.

"Haru is too heavy; he is very close to the ground. Even if the rope lowers slowly, his belly will definitely touch the ground before anyone else's..."

"Yes, and this madman might have written several answers in completely different styles; perhaps that person didn't lie..."

"Anyway, Haru won't live long. Once Falcone knows his true identity, he's doomed!"

"Whether he dies early or late, he will die..."

"Then press it..."

"Press it..."

"Why not?"