Chapter 777: The Deadly Joke (Part 2)

"Hollywood?" Bruce raised his voice. "What are you going to Hollywood for?"

"Mind your own business." Selina turned to pack her things. Bruce sighed, stepped over the clutter piled at the door, walked in, and hugged her from behind.

In the past, at this moment, Selina would turn her head, stare at him with wide eyes, then spin around and wrap her arms around his waist, pressing her face against his chest.

But this time, Selina pulled his hands away, took a few steps forward, then turned and said: "Bruce, let's break up."

Bruce's hands were still outstretched; he froze in place. "Why? What happened?"

Selina flicked her hand. "No why. I'm done. I find you annoying now. You're dumped. Get it?!"

As she walked past him, she continued packing his suitcase. Bruce turned and said: "Selina, what's going on? Why out of nowhere—"

He paused, then added: "Alright, I've been busy lately, haven't been with you, ignored your feelings—but now I have time. I came to see you the moment I could—"

Bruce checked his watch. "I booked that restaurant you love. If we leave now, we'll still make it in time for sunset."

Selina froze. Then slowly, she crouched down where she stood. "My favorite restaurant… yes, that French place downtown, right in the busiest shopping street, best storefront, most professional service, most expensive ingredients, best chef…"

She stood up, touched her arm. "Without you, I'd never eat anything like this in my life. I should be grateful, right?"

"Selina, what's really wrong?" Bruce stepped forward, looking down at her face. She was still beautiful—just worn thin.

Bruce sensed something. "Have you been through something lately? Did someone say something to you? Or were you in danger?"

He took a deep breath. "You're angry, aren't you? But I really—"

"No, it's not about you." Selina turned her head away. "Lately, I've thought a lot. I'm leaving the city for a while."

"What's really going on?" Bruce asked again.

Selina took a deep breath, looked out the window, and remembered what happened at the police station.

Back then, Leon came to her, explained his purpose: he wanted her to cooperate, to charm the West Coast elites, to further the Great King's cause.

The defiant Catwoman, of course, refused. In the interrogation room, she hurled sharp curses at Leon, called him delusional, ordered him to get out.

Leon pressed on, tried to get closer—she scratched him across the face.

The pain enraged Leon. He began shouting. At first, he attacked her appearance—but it was baseless slander. Selina's beauty was undeniable; no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find real flaws.

So his insults grew dirtier. He made wild speculations, dragging in her parents, her origins.

If the unruly Catwoman had a weakness, it was her mother.

Something he said triggered her. The violent core of her personality erupted. She pried open the interrogation room door, nearly drove a knife into Leon's chest.

Fortunately, Gordon arrived in time and stopped her. But his reaction only further enraged Selina. His first instinct wasn't to comfort her—he sent someone to find Bruce.

Gordon's response wasn't wrong. Catwoman was a thief, yes—but one of Gotham's most dangerous. If she lost control and ran, ordinary cops couldn't stop her. Only Batman could.

Besides, even if they didn't know why she'd snapped, Bruce was her boyfriend. His presence might calm her.

But it only made her worse. She broke free of the officers' grip and fled Gotham PD, sprinting across Gotham's skyscrapers.

That day, Gotham's storm never ceased. Exhausted, drained, on the verge of collapse, the Catwoman arrived at Maggie's new apartment.

Maggie was stunned when she saw her. Catwoman's suit was caked in mud, her mask torn, her hair soaked and plastered to her face.

Selina's face was pale, her lips nearly colorless. When Maggie took her hand, she found her limbs icy cold.

Maggie rushed her inside, poured her a cup of hot water, made her drink it, then handed her another cup to hold. She wiped her dry, wrapped her in a thick, warm blanket.

Watching Selina shiver, Maggie's heart ached. "What happened? Why did you run out in this storm?"

Selina said nothing. But Maggie knew her friend well. "Did you lose control again? Who provoked you?"

Selina stayed silent. Maggie sat beside her. "Even if no one wants to listen, I will. Just like when we first met…"

"She'd rather talk to cats…" Selina stared blankly ahead. "I sat right beside her, waiting, hoping—she just hugged the cat and called it her treasure…"

"My purpose was to work, earn money, buy food for her and the cats." Selina's face was pale, but her eyes were red. She looked like she might cry—but no tears came.

Like every Gothamite, Selina held to the rule: never show weakness. But she held it tighter than others—because cats are proud.

"Since I can remember, I've always been an afterthought. No one ever looked at me first. Never." Selina murmured softly:

"At home, my mother treated me as part of the cats. When I stole, she treated me as part of the jewelry. Now, I've become part of Bruce Wayne."

Outside, rain tapped gently against the window. A thin line of rain fell down a dark alley. A small black-haired girl struggled to drag a bag of cat food inside.

A woman burst from the bedroom, shrieking with delight: "Oh, my little Selina! You brought food for my babies again! You're my favorite child!"

Little Selina set down the cat food. She looked up at her mother. "Really? You love me most?"

"Of course! Without you, my little babies would starve!" The woman snatched the bag and walked into the bedroom without looking back. In the dark living room, Selina saw only the slit of the door—and inside, one pair of glowing cat eyes after another.

She saw savagery. She saw terrifying indifference. She saw unwarranted pride.

Little Selina stood there, wondering: Why can cats be so entitled? Why do they believe everyone loves them? Why can they ignore everyone else's will and do exactly what they want? Why do people love them so much?

If I became a cat, would I be put first?

Selina didn't know. She only knew that on that rainy night, curled in the corner of the living room, she dreamed she became a carefree cat.

Her mother held her for the first time, kissed her forehead, and said: "You're my favorite treasure, Selina."

Through the rain streaks above Gotham, like wind through dense trees, a small figure leapt between steel towers, flipped down from a rooftop, landed on a balcony, opened the door, and raised a gemstone necklace high:

"Mom! Look! I just stole this!"

"Oh, my goodness!" A fat woman stumbled in, snatched the pearl necklace from Selina's hand. "My little Selina! You're the cutest child in the world! I adore you!"

Standing in the rain-soaked balcony, drenched, little Selina stared at her. "Really? You love me most?"

The fat woman didn't blink. She stared at the necklace, kissed it, then turned, waddling away, muttering: "I'll put this treasure in the deepest part of my safe. No one must ever find it…"

Selina watched as the door slowly closed. Through the crack, the gem's glow—like a cat's eyes—was the last to fade in the dark.

She thought: Shiny things always draw attention. Among everything else, they're always seen first.

Back in the dark, cramped room, little Selina curled up. She thought: If I could become a jewel everyone adores, they'd put me first, cherish me above all.

In her dream, she saw countless jewels forming a grand castle—among Gotham's steel jungle, the most dazzling thing of all.

"I don't want Bruce to love me—but I want him to love me most. If he doesn't love me most, then stay away." Selina wiped rain from her temple. "Maggie, I told you before I longed for freedom—but that was only because, besides freedom, I get nothing…"

"No one puts me first. They never see me as a whole person. If they don't care about me, I won't care about them. I say I long for freedom—because I can't beg them…"

Selina's brow furrowed—but still no tears fell. She whispered:

"Because I tried. No matter how much I begged, I never got more love."

"So I say I don't need it—that's at least dignified. And if someone makes me want to beg them, I run away…" Selina's lips moved. "…Am I crazy?"

Maggie hugged her. "Don't say that, Selina. It's not your fault. Bruce's been busy lately. He doesn't ignore you—he just can't find the time…"

Selina said nothing. No matter how Maggie comforted her, she stayed silent. Maggie knew: this wasn't the first time Selina had broken down. In the years they'd known each other, it had happened at least a dozen times.

Even though Maggie didn't understand psychiatry or psychology, she knew this wasn't normal. But she had no idea how to fix it. She could only stay with Selina through the night.

Until the wind died and the rain stopped—then Selina suddenly returned to normal, and left as usual.

Now, standing in the room, Bruce realized he couldn't read her emotions at all. She felt like a cat—unfathomable, impossible to understand.

"Why Hollywood?" Bruce asked.

Selina's movements paused. Then her lips curled into a faint smile. She looked down.

"Maybe… I could play the lead there?"