Chapter 2874

"This is Dr. Schiller, who will be performing a minor surgery on me in two days. He will be staying at Wei En Manor as the lead surgeon, and I hope no one will disturb him. You can all manage that, right?"

Batman stood in the grand hall of Wei En Manor, introducing a man to his Robins. As Batman observed their reactions, the Robins were also observing the surgeon.

He didn't look young; his hair was meticulously groomed with graying temples. He wore a brown plaid three-piece suit, a marlin brooch pinned to his chest, and carried a black case. His expression was one of perfectly measured politeness.

"Honestly, he doesn't look much like a doctor," Damian whispered. "Are you expecting him to perform surgery on you in that outfit, Batman?"

"You would do well to maintain your manners, Damian," Batman said, his face unmasked and his expression carrying even more weight. "He is a highly accomplished surgeon with extensive clinical experience. I would be very pleased if any of you could achieve such accomplishments."

"You wouldn't be," Red Hood muttered from under his hood. "You're the least trusting person when it comes to doctors. I have no idea what kind of madness this is."

The others looked at Batman with varying degrees of confusion. They couldn't fathom why Batman would suddenly bring in a surgeon and announce that he would be undergoing a minor procedure.

Batman was extremely distrustful of doctors.

If he could heal an injury himself, he certainly would. If surgery were absolutely necessary, he would rather develop a machine to do it than go to a hospital.

For Batman, exposing his torso to a stranger was an extremely dangerous act. No one knew if this doctor was actually Joker or Clayface in disguise, whether he had been brainwashed, or if he would turn Batman into a pincushion mid-surgery.

And most importantly, Batman wasn't wearing his mask in front of him. What did that mean? Don't tell me the Bat-family is adding another member.

Batman offered no explanation. The surgeon named Schiller nodded at them and said, "I will likely only be staying for about a week to prepare for the surgery and observe the recovery. I won't be intruding for too long."

"You are too kind, Doctor," Barbara said, offering a friendly nod. "Thank you for all your help to the Bat-family. I'll show you to your guest room."

Schiller nodded and followed Barbara upstairs. As soon as he was out of sight, a heated discussion broke out downstairs.

"What exactly is going on with Batman? What kind of surgery requires someone else to do it, and I've never heard of this Dr. Schiller before???" Jason was deeply confused, while Tim remained silent.

Dick simply watched Batman and Schiller's retreating figures, shaking his head, but he said nothing.

Once everyone had returned to their rooms, Batman appeared in Schiller's room. "Are you serious? The King of Vampires is hiding within the Bat-family?"

Schiller leaned back in his chair, looking very relaxed. "You can choose not to believe me, but you should at least know that the Battleworld system wouldn't call you back to guard the gate for no reason. Aside from the King of Vampires, you have more trouble to deal with."

Batman frowned. When he received the communication from this man, he was surprised. He had always assumed he was the most unremarkable of all the Batmen.

Compared to the Batmen in dire straits, aside from some recent disappearances in Cat Getan, his city was actually quite ordinary. He had assumed things would continue that way.

But this doctor named Schiller had suddenly messaged him, saying that the Battleworld system would soon require him to guard the gate because someone had chosen his universe as a dungeon.

The Batmen had long ago deduced the pattern: most universes chosen as dungeons were about to face some kind of trouble.

Since someone had chosen his universe as a dungeon, it meant his universe was about to face a crisis. This reminded Batman of the previous disappearances, where evidence suggested the victims had been drained of blood before death.

Sure enough, not long after, the system sent an email requiring Batman to return to his home universe to guard the gate. If nothing were wrong, no one would come, so guarding the gate wouldn't be necessary. Receiving the email meant trouble was 100% certain.

Batman quickly replied to Schiller's email. In subsequent communications, he learned that the other party had also chosen this dungeon, having locked onto his location through other well-informed Batmen. They had communicated in advance to exchange intelligence.

The two established a preliminary partnership. Schiller provided him with intelligence regarding vampires and the King of Vampires.

Upon discovering the existence of vampires, Batman had already formulated a plan to root out the mole, but after telling this man his plan, the other party didn't think it would be effective.

"Let me be frank. Sunlight, crucifixes, or holy water might be effective against vampiric monsters," Schiller said, looking at Batman with his hands folded. "But that's only if they lack intelligence."

"Someone who has been completely brainwashed won't hesitate to use any means to avoid detection. They can think of methods far beyond what we understand. Perhaps they know magic? Perhaps they've developed potions to mask their identity? Or, more pessimistically, perhaps some vampires have evolved to no longer fear these things?"

"Using such methods to test them will only yield superficial results. If you truly want to know who in the Bat-family has been turned, the best method is to expose your own weakness to them."

As Schiller's calm voice echoed in the room, Batman fell into deep thought.

"Once any member of the Bat-family wants to defect, you are the mountain they cannot bypass. Anyone who wants to do something behind your back must first find a way to deal with you."

"Conversely, once you show a flaw, the person who doesn't want to protect you, but instead wants to kick you while you're down, is the traitor you're looking for." Schiller smiled. "That's why I had you request this surgery."

"I've never done this before. Do you think they'll believe it?"

"Not only will they believe it, they'll think that if you weren't already weakened to a certain point, you would never have asked an outsider to perform surgery on you. In the traitor's eyes, this is the perfect opportunity to strike."

Batman tapped his fingers against the back of his hand. He instinctively licked his lips. "Who do you think the traitor is?"

"I have no idea." Schiller shook his head. He wasn't lying; 'Manipulation' wasn't a personality trait that needed to be on duty, so unlike 'Greed' or 'Arrogance,' he didn't constantly flip through the memory banks and know the plot of every comic book.

Now that he had a new body, viewing memories required streaming from the Tower, which he felt lacked a certain challenge, so he simply hadn't bothered. He only knew roughly that vampires were involved, but not the specific details.

He crossed one leg over the other and rested his chin on his hand. "However, during our recent communication, I did notice some clues. Would you like to hear them?"

Batman nodded.

"Have you ever heard of a dessert called Tiramisu?" When Schiller mentioned the name, it was as if he were truly discussing food, and he was very good at talking about food.

"I would compare the emotion of worry to coffee liqueur soaked into ladyfingers. The cocoa powder sprinkled on the top layer of the cake completely masks the taste of the coffee, but that hint of bitter liqueur is the very essence of the dessert."

"The significance of this metaphor is that no matter how many different emotions mask the emotion of worry—doubt, anger, confusion, or even a different kind of worry—they cannot completely mask the 'liqueur' flavor brought by true worry."

"There are many raw materials for liqueur, but the source of worry is always love. It is an emotion that cannot be mimicked by monsters."

Schiller sat up straight, leaned forward, and picked up his teacup. "Only when you scrape away all the whipped cream and mousse on top will you discover which of your children are still brewing their love into liqueur, and which have long since dried up, unable to squeeze out a drop of moisture, even if the ladyfingers are too dry to eat."

"That is the best way to distinguish humans from vampires. The biggest difference between humans and monsters is internal, not external things like fearing sunlight or not daring to touch a crucifix."

"It's the same for companions. If you're worried that your friends have also been controlled, what you need to observe isn't who fears the sun, but who fears you—who is dodging and avoiding you."

"I'll call them over," Batman said. "If possible, you'd best not be left alone with them. In their eyes, you are the key to the surgery. If they can do something to you, the traitor won't refuse."

Schiller neither refused nor agreed, simply offering an inexplicable smile that made Batman's skin crawl.

Shortly after Batman left, a knock came at Schiller's door. Barbara stood outside, offering a friendly smile. "Doctor, I'm sorry to bother you, but may I come in?"

"Of course, Miss. Please, come in."

Schiller stepped aside with gentlemanly grace. Barbara entered, but she was restrained, not walking too far into the room. She sat in a chair in the reception area by the door and tucked her hair back. "I once dreamed of being a doctor. Because of my father's work, I've met quite a few, so I believe you must be a good one."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you have an air of confidence about you. All the excellent surgeons I've known have had a similar air."

"I would prefer to interpret that as arrogance."

"I didn't mean that at all."

"Of course. I'm not saying it's a derogatory term. Sometimes, the power of the mind can truly turn the tide, can't it?"

"Alright, Doctor, I see I can't outtalk you." Barbara shook her head slightly. "Let's skip the pleasantries. I want to know, what exactly is wrong with Batman?"

"He's fine." Schiller handed a cup of tea to Barbara. "It's just a minor surgery. You don't need to worry so much."

"But he... he isn't the type to make such a fuss over a minor surgery."

"This isn't making a fuss. Or do you feel that a minor surgery doesn't warrant him enjoying the most professional medical resources?"

Barbara looked embarrassed. "No, that's not what I meant. Of course he should... but he has never..."

"It's never too late to start." Schiller's words were flawless. He sat in his seat, holding his teacup. "He's simply finally abandoned his prejudice against doctors and chosen to leave professional matters to the professionals. That's an improvement, don't you think?"

"I..."