Chapter 70: Chapter Sixty-Nine: The Black Sun and the Bat-Signal (Part 2)

"Hello? Please transfer me to His Eminence the Godfather, thank you."

"Good afternoon, Godfather. I'd like to discuss a business deal with you..."

In the office of Arkham Asylum, Schiller put down the phone, tugged on the cord, blew the dust off the receiver, then poured himself a glass of wine. He picked up that old-fashioned telephone, dialed by turning the dial, and said, "Hello? Brand? You've arrived in Xia Weiyi?... No, no need to worry, enjoy your vacation properly; I can handle it."

A while later, Bruce walked in and placed a stack of documents before Schiller. Schiller said, "It's off the clock; care for a drink?"

"Thank you, I don't drink."

"You seem a bit haggard."

"After all, I haven't slept in nearly fifty hours."

"Of course, that giant Bat-signal you recently set up has been on constantly; the whole of Cat Getan knows there is a Batman."

"But..." Bruce sighed. He hesitated for a moment and said, "I'll have a drink, thank you."

"What could make Batman turn to alcohol to drown his sorrows?"

Bruce said, "I feel I shouldn't have done this. Bats simply do not light lamps, nor should they light lamps."

Before Schiller could ask, Bruce said, "I set up six Bat-signals across Cat Getan. In the past few days, they have been lit twenty-five times in total, nineteen of which were pranks."

"So, I designed insurance for them. Afterwards, I received twelve requests for help, all of them gang shootouts, asking me to back them up."

"I wouldn't allow gangs to use them, so they tried desperately to sabotage them. Of course, I designed security protocols, and the effect was quite good; poor people and beggars went to press them, and the next day, they were killed by the gangs."

Bruce covered his face, took a deep breath, then took a sip of wine. He struggled to swallow the liquid and said, "Those who cannot be saved are not allowed to save anyone. If this is Cat Getan, I must say, well, I thought too simply."

"I knew it... no bat would light a lamp," Bruce said finally.

"I suggest you rest for a few days. When you encounter a problem, sacrifice your rest time to solve it; then when you encounter a new problem, continue in the same manner. This is a vicious cycle. You must stop; it is of no benefit whatsoever."

Bruce said somewhat wearily, "Alright, I'll go back to sleep. I'll come to work tomorrow, copying medical records, answering phones, doing rounds, whatever is fine."

The next day, Bruce indeed arrived at work on time as he had said. Schiller was already sitting in the office, drinking a cup of steaming coffee. Bruce also brewed himself a cup of Americano and picked up a thesis to read.

A while later, a female nurse knocked and entered, saying, "Doctor, Andre on the second floor, room five, has been making a fuss. He keeps demanding the nurses increase the dosage of morphine analgesics, otherwise he will complain about us."

Schiller didn't even lift his head and said flatly, "Give it to him. Triple the market price. If he keeps making a fuss, make it five times."

Bruce almost choked on his coffee.

"Bird on the third floor wants us to prescribe him headache medicine; he made a scene all night last night."

"Tell him the pill seller fell off the railing yesterday, hit his head, and there is no stock now."

"The one in ward six..." Schiller flipped through the files and said, "... Hall or Goll, does he have some connections? Let him send someone in; we take seven, he takes three."

After the nurse left, before Bruce could speak, the phone rang again. Schiller picked up the phone while still looking at the files.

"Hello? Whiskey supply cut off?... Yes, the last bottle is with me. Who said they had a bar in their possession that day? Let me see... Room one on the fourth floor. Tell him to run a line from the bar. Tell him not to bring watered-down goods to fool me, or I'll write him a permanent treatment recommendation diagnosis..."

Schiller hung up the phone, then picked up the receiver and dialed again, saying to the person on the other end:

"Tell them no assassins are allowed in. To enter, they must have a main gate pass, one hundred thousand US dollars each. The Zhuyuan Force main gate is fifty thousand. For anything above the third floor, add another thirty thousand for wear and tear. Buy the full package and get a security patrol map for free..."

"Hello? Yesterday the equipment department said the brainwave machine was broken. Who does number two on the fifth floor belong to? Old Band from the East District? Donate a machine, let him take the person away, and come over later to pick up the rehabilitation recommendation."

After hanging up, Bruce said, "Professor..."

Before he could finish, the phone rang again. Schiller picked it up and said, "Hello?... Deal didn't go through? Tell him the twin brothers in the south are offering five hundred thousand US dollars, and it's not a buyout. If he doesn't agree, he won't get a single cent from the liquor business here."

"Hello? No, the security work of Arkham Asylum is currently handled by the Falcone family. If he wants to force his way in, let him come. The Godfather sends his regards."

Just as Schiller hung up, Bruce seized the moment and said, "Isn't there something a bit un..."

"Hello? How many people tomorrow?... No, no way. That little vulture can't squeeze out any oil; he's far inferior to his father. Send him to prison; I don't accept junk here... He got hold of his father's empire? Alright, leave ward seven on the second floor for him... What? A diagnosis report? That's a separate price..."

"... Drag the remaining three to next month. Let the judge find a reason, like diarrhea or something. There's no space on the fifth floor... And a cop? A dirty cop? Got caught?... We accept the mentally ill here, not the intellectually disabled. If he wants to get in, let him find his old employer..."

"Who else? No, he won't do... Already arrested? Then let the police put the evidence back. Find that man named Brock; he will understand..."

When Schiller finished, he looked up. Bruce was staring at him. That gaze was complex, containing a bit of shock at "how could it be so," and a bit of contempt at "as expected."

"Don't look at me. The hospital is running smoothly now, isn't it?"

"But..."

Bruce opened his mouth. He wanted to question Schiller, but for a moment, he didn't know where to start.

"I made a deal with Falcone. He manipulates his black gloves to provoke some profitable gangs, then has the police chief under his command arrest and try them. I issue psychiatric diagnosis certificates for them, allowing them to be admitted. As for what happens afterwards, it depends on whether their boss or their enemy pays more."

Bruce stared at Schiller. Schiller shrugged and said, "What? Find it incredible? Or do you really think I'm a good person like Harvey? What gave you that illusion?"