Chapter 608

Amid the night's spread, Wayne Manor exuded a quiet atmosphere; Dick, dressed in pajamas and a sleep cap, hugged a blanket as he walked toward his bedroom.

He had just finished his teacher's homework, having fallen asleep midway through; Alfred had draped the blanket over him, which made Dick slightly embarrassed.

Bruce placed great importance on Dick's grades; while first place wasn't mandatory, at least a passable score was required—failing was out of the question.

Dick wasn't fond of studying; he had followed Bruce hoping to learn combat and reconnaissance skills, but Bruce insisted he was underage and must attend school, so Dick quietly endured it.

Yet Dick was genuinely intelligent; though he didn't study hard, he still ranked among the top three, but he truly disliked rote memorization, instead excelling in various school activities.

Moreover, having trained in acrobatics before, his body coordination was excellent, giving him an advantage in sports; he even joined the high jump team at middle school, making him a model of well-rounded development.

After returning to his room, Dick found Elsa holding a storybook, waiting for him; he walked over, took the book, flipped through it, and said: "Where did we leave off? Let me see… oh, this book's already finished."

Elsa stared at him with wide eyes; Dick sighed and explained: "We can't go to the library anymore."

"Opening the library door requires a key, and the key's with Alfred; Alfred's probably asleep now, so we can't disturb him—that would be impolite."

Elsa made a pouting face, leapt up, snatched the book from Dick's hands, and turned to leave; Dick grabbed her and said: "Don't be upset—we can do something else instead. Hmm… let me think…"

"Oh, right—I joined the school choir. The teacher taught us a few songs, but I didn't really like singing any of them."

Dick sat down with Elsa, hugging the blanket, and thought before saying: "A few days ago, Mr. Wayne was organizing documents and had me learn a song. I thought it was pretty catchy—I'll teach it to you, how about that?"

Elsa tilted her head, as if unsure what song Dick meant—or perhaps she couldn't even grasp what a song was; Dick strained to recall the melody, then said: "No, never mind—it's too complex for you. I spent ages memorizing the lyrics."

Elsa made a sound; Dick immediately turned to her and said: "You're sure you want to learn? It's really hard…"

Elsa nodded vigorously; Dick sighed helplessly: "Fine, but if you can't learn it, don't get mad."

"I'll start by teaching you the lyrics." Dick stood up, ran to the nightstand, pulled out a pen, opened the storybook, found a blank space, and began writing the lyrics.

Elsa leaned in, but she still couldn't recognize many words, so Dick wrote and read aloud:

"The Owl Court… watches your every move…"

"The lyrics are weird, right? But the tune's actually nice—I'll teach you: The Owl Court… watches your every move…"

Dick had never experienced the battle with the Owl Court; he had no idea such a thing existed in Gotham, and since the book described the song as merely a nursery rhyme, and Bruce showed no special reaction to it, Dick treated it as just a song.

Bruce assumed Dick, lacking formal music training, couldn't read sheet music or sing the song properly.

But Dick had joined many school activities, including the choir; he got along well with the nun who taught singing and learned basic musical notation, enough to hum the song by reading the score.

Yet since his learning was incomplete and he hadn't sung seriously, his rendition was a drastically simplified version; paired with the complex lyrics, it sounded odd—but precisely because the melody was simplified, Elsa learned it quickly.

Once Dick saw Elsa could hum the tune, he focused on teaching her the lyrics, but Elsa couldn't even speak properly, barely knew any words—how could she memorize such a long string? So Elsa simplified the lyrics too.

Thus, the originally complex, dark, Gothic Owl Nursery Rhyme became a true children's song.

Perhaps Dick had an unusual talent for the arts; this children's song was genuinely catchy. Except for the first two lines—"The Owl Court watches your every move"—the rest was rewritten into logical, conversational phrasing, with a repetitive, memorable melody.

Soon, Elsa mastered the entire song; she clearly loved singing, and once learned, she sang it nonstop, even her pronunciation becoming fluent.

After singing several times, she grew more confident, clapping happily—then suddenly froze, shaking her head left and right, as if searching for something; Dick, puzzled, asked: "What's wrong, Elsa? What are you looking for?"

Elsa wore a deeply confused expression, opened her mouth as if biting at something, but bit nothing; she sniffed hard, as if smelling an odor, yet nothing was there.

Her reaction sent a chill down Dick's spine; he shivered, hugged the blanket tighter, and asked Elsa: "What's going on? Don't scare me…"

Finding nothing, Elsa thought for a moment, then began singing again; after a while, she opened her mouth and bit at the air, sniffing again.

As if realizing something, Elsa began singing the nursery rhyme loudly; soon, she found even that too cumbersome, so she further simplified both lyrics and melody—until the entire rhyme reduced to just the first line, paired with a simple, repeating tune.

Elsa sang faster and louder, mouth open, chewing twice with each repetition, as if eating; Dick was terrified, bolted from the room, and ran to call Alfred.

When Alfred arrived, Elsa was still singing; he didn't act rashly, but immediately called Bruce, who was studying the Ark Reactor model in the Batcave.

Bruce returned, saw Elsa's state, and asked Dick: "What's going on? What's she singing?"

Because Dick and Elsa had simplified the song so many times, Bruce couldn't recognize it as the original nursery rhyme; Dick thought he'd caused trouble and confessed everything honestly.

Bruce looked at Dick and said: "You actually learned that song? How did you learn sheet music?"

"I joined the school choir. The nun who taught singing liked me, so she taught me some musical symbols—but I don't know them all, just the basic melody; the rest I made up myself."

Dick turned to Elsa: "After I taught her, she didn't learn it fully either—she probably made up the rest of the tune herself."

At that moment, Elsa suddenly stopped singing, stood still, burped, then laughed, "Ding-ding-ding!" as she dashed to Bruce's legs, hugged them, and jumped while shouting: "Daddy! So full! I'm full!"

Bruce knelt, pressed his hands on Elsa's shoulders, examined her front and back—she was unharmed, alert, yet the words she'd just spoken confused him.

Elsa could now speak a few words and express her state; for example, when Alfred fed her vegetables she disliked, she'd say she was full and didn't want to eat.

Bruce glanced at the wall clock—it was past 9 p. m., four hours after dinner; he turned to Alfred, who shook his head: "Late-night snacks are unhealthy. The Wayne family doesn't have such habits."

"What did you eat?" Bruce asked.

"Good… full! Full! Burp!" Elsa repeated only these few words; Bruce asked repeatedly, but she couldn't say more.

Finally, Elsa understood Bruce desperately wanted an answer; she tugged his pant leg to the window and pointed outside.

Bruce looked out—the window revealed nothing but Gotham's endless night.

Seeing Bruce still didn't understand, Elsa thought, then sprinted to the bed, jumped up, and turned off the bedside lamp.

The room plunged into darkness; Elsa jumped on the bed, shouting: "This! Delicious! This is it!"

Bruce walked over, turned the lamp on—Elsa fell silent; he turned it off again—she screamed again. Bruce stood, exchanged a glance with Alfred, and said: "Dark? Night? … Darkness?"

Suddenly, he realized: the creator of this nursery rhyme might have been the Dark Owl Priest; now, when Elsa sang it, she seemed to be eating—and afterward declared she was full. Did that mean the rhyme summoned something, which Elsa then consumed?

Realizing this, Bruce grew tense; he snatched Elsa up, grabbed Dick's arm, and said: "Come with me—to the foyer!"

"Alfred, activate Wayne Manor's defense system fully, position all vehicles, and if you detect anything unusual, unleash maximum firepower immediately!"

He carried both children down to the grand hall, lit every lamp, made them stand in the center, and Alfred brought him the full Batman gear; Bruce donned it and stood ready in the hall.

But after waiting long, nothing strange appeared—until Elsa began singing the nursery rhyme again, chewing as she sang; Bruce seized the chance to scan the surroundings, yet saw nothing.

He suspected it was a perceptual issue: something Elsa could see didn't mean he could see it; after all, Elsa was a Parallax reincarnation—her soul was Parallax's, while his was human. So perhaps only she could perceive such things.

Neither Dick nor Alfred were human in that sense—only Elsa could see whatever it was.

Bruce admitted that when he realized the nursery rhyme might be dangerous, he panicked briefly—he'd assumed Dick couldn't read sheet music, so he'd made him memorize lyrics.

But that was also because he didn't understand Dick well; lately, he'd been absorbed in studying the Ark Reactor model Shiler gave him; when he returned home, both children were already asleep, sometimes he didn't even eat dinner at home; the evenings once spent chatting by the fireplace, telling stories, were gone.

Thus, Bruce had little knowledge of Dick's school life and didn't know what activities he joined, leading to this oversight.

Fortunately, Elsa wasn't an ordinary child; if both children had been normal human kids, they might have been entangled by something, and Bruce and Alfred would never have noticed.

Recalling his earlier theory—that Gotham's chaos and darkness might stem from the Dark Owl Priest's covert manipulation—could his own momentary negligence have pushed Dick and Elsa onto an irreversible path?

Thinking this, Bruce's expression grew cold; he didn't leave the children, but told Alfred to bring the living room phone; he picked up the receiver and dialed:

"Hello, it's me. Come to Wayne Manor."

A dazed, hoarse voice replied: "What? Bruce? What? I… oh, wait, darling, hold on, I'm taking a call… I'm busy right now—it's adult time…"

Bruce's voice grew colder: "If you don't come, I'll come to you, Constantine."

Constantine broke into a cold sweat, feeling an irresistible darkness fixate on him; he shook his head hard and said:

"Wait—I'm coming."