Chapter 774: Bruce Wayne? Never Heard of Him! (Part 2)

"Hey, Jason, you finally made it!" Little Rascal sat in his seat, waving at Jason and pointing to the seat beside him. "Hurry up! I saved you a great spot—this is front row, right next to the teacher, so you can see every detail of the diagrams!"

"Oh, okay, I'm coming." Jason seemed dazed; he set down his burrito. Little Rascal took it, and as soon as he touched it, he said, "Huh, it's a bit cold? Doesn't matter—you know I don't like food too hot. But why did your breakfast take so long? Almost an hour, right?"

"Yeah, I…" Jason stammered. "While eating breakfast, I ran into a professor—Professor Shiler."

Little Rascal's eyes widened. "Did he give you trouble? Did he freeze you into an ice block?"

Jason shook his head. "No, we had a pleasant chat. But just before I left, he suggested I switch majors."

Little Rascal stared. "You don't want to study car repair anymore? We promised we'd invent cars together…"

"Of course I do." Jason sat down, slinging an arm around Little Rascal's shoulder. "I'm loyal to a fault."

Little Rascal swatted his hand away. "Come on, Jason. Do you think I don't know you? You don't even like fixing cars, do you? I saw you dozing off in class yesterday."

"It's not that." Jason hesitated. "But he said psychology can answer some questions I've had—the weird ones I told you about…"

"Oh, you mean stuff like 'why are the poor poor' and 'where does money come from'?" Little Rascal scratched his head. "I've never studied psychology, so I don't know what it actually teaches, but… that professor wouldn't lie to you, right?"

"I thought the same. Before, he told us the courses here would spark real interest—and they did. And he has no reason to lie to me specifically."

"So are you going to switch?" Little Rascal asked. "I'm not trying to stop you, but I think that subject might be hard. Can you even understand it?"

Then, glancing around, Little Rascal lowered his voice. "I heard even Bruce Wayne had to retake his class under him. You're gonna get roasted!"

Jason shuddered. "That's true—if Bruce Wayne really is Batman, he's obviously incredible. If even he can't graduate… can I really do it?"

"And there's another problem," Little Rascal said seriously. "There's no psychology major here at tech school. Where are you transferring? Are you going to the main campus? But there are tons of out-of-town students there—you don't know any of them. They might make things hard for you…"

Jason's expression grew even more uncertain. Just then, two coughs echoed from behind the class. Everyone snapped upright, stopping all whispering.

Shiler sat down, picked up his notebook, and before class began, stood up and pointed to the two front-row seats. "You two—separate. Don't think I didn't see you chatting."

Both Little Rascal and Jason grimaced, quickly moving to opposite ends of the row. Little Rascal shot Jason a look: See? I told you he's tough.

Jason shrugged and made a silly face. Both laughed.

Soon, the morning class ended. Little Rascal felt he'd learned a lot—he finally understood yesterday's difficulties. Jason also learned a lot—he slept soundly and dreamed of a huge feast.

At lunchtime, just before leaving, Jason noticed Professor Shiler standing behind their seats, waving at him. Jason waved to Little Rascal. "Go ahead and eat—I'll join you in a bit."

He stepped forward. "Professor Shiler, what's up? Need something?"

"Nothing much. What are you planning to eat for lunch?" Shiler packed his things as he walked out. Jason followed, scratching his head. "Just the usual cafeteria stuff—I want a big burger and a bowl of bean soup…"

"Eating that all the time isn't healthy. Come with me—I'll take you to the faculty dining hall. You'll love the lamb chops there."

Shiler hurried toward the door. Jason hesitated. "But isn't the faculty dining hall for teachers only? Isn't it weird for me to go in?"

"No problem—teachers bring students sometimes. You know, there's a dish there famous all over Gotham—better than the most famous Italian restaurant in North District. It's traditional Italian steak with roasted vegetables…"

"The steak is cooked perfectly—juices flow when you cut it. Best of all, the roasted vegetables have no broccoli—my least favorite. Everything else tastes great. Do you like broccoli?"

Jason's face twisted in disgust. "No—that's terrifying. It's the worst vegetable on Earth."

"Looks like we share the same taste."

As they talked, they reached the faculty dining hall—actually closer than the student cafeteria.

The faculty dining hall was completely different from the cafeteria—more like a real restaurant. The decor was luxurious, tasteful: deep brown floors, wine-red velvet curtains, crimson wooden tables and chairs, metallic cutlery glinting in the light.

More importantly, the faculty and staff here carried a quality Jason had never seen on Gothamites before—a calm, refined air he couldn't help but like. There was a sense of peace here.

Shiler led Jason to the front desk. "I have a reservation. This is one of my students—I'm treating him to lunch. Could you register us? Oh, and please wait to take the order—I have another guest coming."

The server nodded with a smile. "Of course, Professor. Can we take your order in ten minutes?"

Shiler nodded and guided Jason to a table. As they passed between the chairs, Jason kept turning his head, fascinated by everything.

When the server brought water and napkins, Jason shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Professor Shiler—is it okay for me to sit here? I see everyone else…"

"Don't look at them. They're here to eat, not to stare at you. If you're really uncomfortable, try saying hello."

Jason shook his head vigorously—but still glanced at a nearby table. Across from him, an elderly woman caught his gaze, smiled, and nodded.

Jason quickly turned back, covering his mouth. Shiler chuckled. "Don't worry—that's Mrs. Pins. The man across from her is Professor Andre from our school—materials science."

Professor Andre, with a full beard, stroked it and smiled at Shiler. "He's not afraid of you—he's afraid of us. Your authority needs work."

Mrs. Pins laughed too. "If your authority got any stronger, no one would dare come to class!"

All three laughed. Jason didn't understand why—they were laughing at him. He lowered his head, fidgeting with his shirt hem. "For some reason, I feel like the language here isn't even English…"

"You don't understand the words?" Shiler asked.

"No—I mean, I understand the words. But the way you speak… it's different from how I'm used to. I can't explain it, but it feels… off."

"Maybe you're just hungry." Shiler tapped the bell beside the table with his finger. It rang sharply. The nearest server turned. "Professor, just a moment."

Soon, he returned with the menu. Then Victor arrived and sat across from Shiler. "Sorry I'm late. Two graduating students asked for leave to intern—I had to verify their thesis proposals, or they'll never finish their papers."

"No problem—we're just ordering." Shiler took the menu, picked a few dishes, then passed it to Victor. Victor ordered, then handed the menu to Jason. He looked at Shiler. "Why did you bring him here? Doesn't he have class this afternoon?"

"The afternoon practical session isn't important—he didn't pay attention at all this morning."

"Hey, I did listen!" Jason said immediately.

Shiler looked at him. "Oh? Really? What did the teacher cover this morning?"

"Uh…" Jason strained to recall. "They talked about… the car's transmission system?"

"That was yesterday's lesson." Shiler shook his head. "But it doesn't matter—not everyone needs to learn car repair. I don't, for example."

Victor chuckled. "You weren't saying that yesterday. Who was it in the office yesterday claiming that if every kid in Gotham learned to fix cars, this place would become the next Detroit?"

"Was I? I don't remember. Probably didn't sleep well last night. Anyway, Jason—look at the menu. Anything you like? Point it out and hand it to me."

"Oh, I don't understand these words. I don't have any favorites—just meat's fine."

Jason returned the menu to Shiler, who passed it back to the server. Soon, steaming dishes filled the table: roasted lamb chops, Italian steak, Spanish paella, creamed spinach, pea soup.

Jason hadn't felt hungry—but now, seeing these unfamiliar dishes, his stomach growled.

Still, he didn't rush to eat. He watched Shiler and Victor.

When they placed napkins on their laps and picked up knives and forks, Jason copied them. Though this was his first time in such a place, he showed no trace of his slum upbringing—he looked like he'd been raised in a church school.

Victor gave Shiler a look. Shiler nodded slightly. Then Victor asked: "How's Bruce's thesis going? I noticed you've been stressed these past few days."

Shiler sighed, prying apart a lamb chop. "Punctuation and formatting are fine—but new problems keep popping up. I told him not to ramble off-topic, but he insists on doing it anyway."

"I corrected one paper—then the next was identical. I don't know whether to call him overactive or just unfocused."

"How many times did you revise last week's submission? I think it was five?" Victor speared a mushroom. "Those students applying for internships are still stuck on their proposals. I really doubt they'll finish their theses on time."

Shiler put down his fork, made the sign of the cross over his chest. "God help us—let's not have more than ten students delay graduation this year. If this keeps up, the classrooms won't hold them."

Jason ate quietly, listening to their conversation. It was utterly foreign—something he'd never heard in Gotham.

He wondered: Could words like "study," "read," "write a thesis," "graduate" ever belong to his life?

Could he one day stop worrying about his next meal, and sit in a classroom, focused on a book?

It was insane, Jason thought. He'd always believed Gotham had too many madmen—if they vanished, the city would be half as bad.

【69】 But today, he realized—he might be going mad too.