[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel":3,"chapter-my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-56":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","My Life as a Mental Mentor in Marvel",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2322624,4544,"Chapter 56: Chapter Fifty-Five: The Rainy Night Murder","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-56",56,"\u003Cp>The cool autumn rain of Gotham drifted down, misting the glowing streetlamps with a dim yellow haze, while the cold glare of car headlights slowly spread from the corner, illuminating the end of the dark alley.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The vibrant hues of neon lights reflected off the black car’s body; the door opened, and the driver stepped out, holding a black umbrella, then went to the back seat to open the door.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The attendants at the mansion’s entrance all wore white shirts and champagne-colored waistcoats; they sprinted over, laying a carpet beneath the car door, and as leather shoes stepped onto the carpet, Schiller gripped the doorframe and stepped out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had barely straightened when he saw a guest ahead of him toss a massive umbrella into the arms of a thin, small umbrella boy; the umbrella’s heavy droplets drenched the boy completely, and the attendants beside the entrance whispered mocking laughter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller took the umbrella himself, walked to the entrance, and a blond manager stepped forward warmly: “Professor Rodriguez? The Godfather has been waiting for you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As soon as he finished, Evans descended the stairs, embraced Schiller warmly, and said: “Thank you, Professor Schiller. My coming-of-age ceremony hardly warranted such an effort on your part.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Nothing much. Happy birthday.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As they spoke, Schiller’s peripheral vision caught the umbrella boy clutching the enormous umbrella—he looked about Evans’s age, but was thin and frail, with a hooked nose and a sullen gaze, clearly unlikable, struggling to fold the massive umbrella, his weak frame making the motion look absurd.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller noticed the boy’s cufflinks were fastened with meticulous precision—more like a nobleman attending a gathering than a servant.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing Schiller still holding his own umbrella, Evans frowned; he turned to look at the umbrella boy. The manager, quick to read the mood, stepped forward, tapped the boy’s skull, and had someone else take the enormous umbrella.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller’s umbrella was already folded; he held it by the shaft and offered the handle to the boy. The boy rolled his cloudy eyes upward, glanced at Schiller, then bowed his head and meekly accepted the umbrella.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This minor incident did not disrupt Evans’s birthday banquet in the slightest; surprisingly, Bruce also arrived.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of course, they were classmates, from roughly the same social class—both part of Gotham’s upper society.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller held a glass of wine, conversing with Evans about the club, when the banquet’s main guest was soon called away by his father. Bruce approached and said: “Aren’t you going to eat something first, Professor?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller shook his head and asked: “You said you wanted to lead the club? That’s unusual.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce was about to speak when Schiller added: “Given the quality of your submitted papers, let alone leading a club—you’re probably not suited for psychology at all.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Don’t say that. You know why I’m doing this.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But that’s no excuse to pollute my eyes with academic trash.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Alright, how much of the club’s membership fees would it take to make you waver? Two hundred million dollars enough?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller cursed inwardly but said: “I suggest you pick a different disguise. Do you really think you can endure this constant immersion among trash?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I use ginger juice instead of alcohol, and those burning powders are just ordinary spices.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller said nothing, only let his gaze drift to Bruce’s waist. Bruce said: “Alright, that does seem problematic.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As they spoke, the lights in the center of the banquet hall flickered on one by one; Falcone descended the central staircase with Evans.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was a crucial part of the coming-of-age ritual: a parent introducing their child to their social circle, signifying the child’s readiness to participate in society and assume the duty of inheriting the family’s legacy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Afterwards, Schiller and the other elders offered words of encouragement to Evans; finally, Evans himself, first devoutly made the sign of the cross over his chest, then thanked God.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As Evans spoke, Schiller noticed, in his right peripheral vision, a thin figure hidden beneath the heavy curtains.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But when the crowd gathered in the center dispersed, the figure was gone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then the banquet proceeded normally—lights glittered, glasses clinked, and in the gilded hall, guests conversed with hidden motives.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet, just as at SHIELD, almost no one approached Schiller to speak; everyone knew his astonishing record, and no one wished to linger near someone who might see through their secrets.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a while, the banquet neared its end. Schiller felt hungry and planned to fetch something from the side buffet when he heard movement behind the right staircase. Soon, a woman in an elaborate dress ran out screaming: “Old Edward!! He collapsed in the restroom!!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everyone nearby scattered hastily. Falcone spoke in a steady voice: “Quiet. Andy, go see what happened.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One of the Godfather’s men stepped away, returned quickly, and whispered a few words into Falcone’s ear. Falcone’s gaze swept over everyone present; no one dared speak, cowed by his presence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Falcone said: “Old Edward is dead. He died at my son’s coming-of-age ceremony.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the hundreds-strong banquet hall, silence reigned as if nothing existed—not even a breath dared be raised. All wondered: who had the audacity to disrupt the Godfather’s domain?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Falcone gripped his cane: “Where’s young Edward? Bring him to me. His uncle died here—he must come.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Also, send for the police. Have them send investigators. Evans, you host the guests. Don’t let them feel neglected.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then Falcone gave his assistant Andy a glance and turned away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce stood beside Schiller and asked: “You saw it too, didn’t you?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes. But it has nothing to do with me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce said: “Looks like young Edward has won. The docks are about to fall into chaos.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Do you think young Edward did it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He’s the one who benefits the most, isn’t he?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller shook his head: “I think the Edward family is the biggest loser. Old Edward is dead, and everyone will assume his nephew killed him. And with this happening at the Godfather’s only son’s ceremony, the Godfather’s retaliation against the Edward family won’t be excessive.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Do you think Falcone staged it himself?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He’s far more cunning than you imagine.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Bruce glanced back. The once-bustling banquet hall was now utterly empty; most had left, afraid to remain under the Godfather’s wrath. The leftover scraps, still illuminated by the brilliant lights, looked even more desolate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As Schiller prepared to leave, the umbrella was returned to him by Falcone’s assistant, Andy: “I apologize, Professor. The Godfather asked me to convey his regrets—we never expected such an incident at your first invitation.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes. We never expected it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller looked down at his umbrella—all the raindrops had dried. Standing beneath the portico, he saw a group at the mansion’s side door carrying a box; inside, surely, was Old Edward’s corpse.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They loaded the box into a car. Judging by the direction it drove, the body would be dumped into the sea.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller stood at the entrance a moment longer. Soon, police lights flashed through the rainy night as patrol cars arrived. Of course—Gotham never waited for police to handle corpses.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gordon arrived at another crime scene with no trace of victim or killer—even the blood had been wiped clean. Yet he adapted effortlessly, calmly directing his officers as they scoured the restroom.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He himself neither investigated nor recorded; instead, he was led by others to meet Falcone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The outcome of this case depended not on what happened in the restroom or what the police could uncover—but solely on one man’s stance: the host, Falcone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That’s Gotham. When one gangster kills another, the police find themselves in an awkward position. Gordon understood this deeply: in Gotham, psychological resilience mattered more than investigative skill.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a while, Evans stepped out holding an umbrella and hurried toward Schiller: “Professor, I heard you hadn’t left yet. Do you need something?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No, nothing special. You know—I’m interested in cases like this.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Evans gave a slightly awkward smile: “Uh… it’s just a small case, not a serial killing. But if you’re interested, you can go take a look.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller shook his head but handed his umbrella to Evans: “Give this to the Godfather.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Evans took the umbrella, puzzled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After Schiller left, Falcone took the black umbrella from Evans’s hands and said: “It seems he truly will be your longest-serving tutor.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the car on his way home, Schiller listened to the rain drumming against the window, recalling the thin, timid umbrella boy—the guest who had entered before him, mocking the boy with the massive umbrella, was Old Edward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As soon as Schiller returned to his apartment, he heard movement on the balcony. Batman stood there. Schiller did not turn. Batman said: “I’m investigating Old Edward’s case.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Why? Are gang fights within your jurisdiction now?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He used to be the boss of Park Street.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Schiller said nothing, but Batman continued: “He knew who killed my parents.”\u003C\u002Fp>",1472,"2026-06-20T16:39:12.484Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","440dacf9b1b6b604ea64d5f77e0d7c1ca00f96ef7d084cb3b8bf47336181195c","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-57","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-55",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fmy-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-cover.jpg"]