Chapter 778: The Deadly Joke (Part Three)

Selina left anyway; Bruce couldn't stop her—his attempt to hold her back only earned him three bloody scratches on his face, and as the blood dripped down, the thick stench of it made him dizzy and nauseous.

Back in the Batcave, he donned the Batsuit and stood once more above Gotham, yet he realized that nowhere seemed to need him anymore.

Schiller no longer pressured him to submit his paper, no longer called every few hours to ask for progress, no longer dragged him repeatedly into his office to dissect the details—Schiller lowered his expectations, giving Bruce time to return to the identity of Batman.

Alfred had taken care of Elsa's school arrangements, so Bruce no longer had to handle it himself; Dick had found his place at the new school and resumed his social life, no longer requiring Bruce to worry about his mental state.

Elsa was happy at daycare, showing none of the predicted aggression or attempts to flee; she not only passed her days effortlessly but no longer needed anyone to stay with her to tell her bedtime stories.

Selina was gone; Batman no longer needed to spend time on dates or waste precious crime-fighting hours circling the city with her.

Now, Batman had ample time to do what he wanted: patrol Gotham every night, fight crime, develop more and better gear, install more cameras, monitor more areas, keep everything under control.

But now, he merely stood motionless on the roof of Wayne Tower, his mind empty, his body inactive.

Bruce Wayne's identity was now completely vacant; he had finally reached the state he had long desired—no one needed Bruce Wayne anymore; everyone needed only Batman.

Yet for some reason, Batman's movements had begun to slow, losing their former decisiveness, and now he was trying to understand why this had happened.

He had discarded all weak traits, no longer bound by mundane affairs, yet his posture was anything but graceful, his mindset anything but free.

He felt as if he had been kicked out by the vast, sprawling human world beneath the clouds, and the reason these weak ordinary people gave for kicking him out was that he was useless.

Could a god exist apart from humanity because he truly stood above them—or because humanity deemed him useless within society?

Was a god, in another sense, just social trash?

Then what difference was there between him and the criminals cast out from society?

Batman realized he had developed a stubborn urge to prove Bruce Wayne wasn't worthless—but at the same time, he found this urge absurd, because the one who despised Bruce Wayne most was Batman himself.

Conflicting emotions churned in his chest; the again-incoherent logic brought back the confusion he felt when he first became Batman, and so he decided to find Schiller.

Schiller would ask him questions he couldn't answer—but at least that would give his thoughts direction; with direction, perhaps there would be an answer.

Batman arrived on the Gotham University campus; he knew Schiller was likely still in the empty classroom with Jason, and without hesitation, he leapt from the roof, landing on the classroom balcony.

But Schiller was not inside—only Jason, absorbed in his book, so engrossed he didn't notice the shadow looming above him.

Only when he finally paused to rest did he realize Batman had been watching him for minutes.

Jason nearly fell off his chair in shock; he heard Batman ask: "Where's Professor Schiller?"

"He… he's not here," Jason swallowed and said. "He's helping Professor Victor calibrate the cryogenic chamber equipment…"

"What are you reading?" Batman asked again.

Jason glanced down at the book in his hands and said: "Famous psychologists and their theories."

"Do you understand it?" Batman asked.

"Some of it," Jason tilted his head, holding the book. "I just finished Freud's theories; now I'm reading Jung's. I heard they were friends…"

Batman stood silently. Jason stole glances at him, then after a moment, set the book down and looked at Batman: "You seem upset. Why?"

Batman didn't answer, only asked: "When will Professor Schiller return?"

"Not sure. He might not come back tonight," Jason replied.

"Then why are you still here?"

"Reading!" Jason waved the book. "Didn't I already tell you? I'm studying the theories of the world's most famous psychologists."

He glanced at Batman again. "You seem really down. Did something happen?"

Batman froze—he had never before been told he was sad, not even by Schiller.

Jason propped his chin on his hand. "I remember last time I saw you, you weren't happy either—but today you're sadder than ever. Why?"

"Why do you think I'm sad?" Batman asked.

"Intuition," Jason shrugged. "My intuition's always been sharp. That's how the Ventriloquist Gang stayed on top."

Before Batman could respond, Jason slammed the book onto the desk—the spine striking the wood with a sharp crack.

He pointed to a line. "Look—this is the most interesting part of Jung's theory: the 'persona.' Do you know what a persona is?"

"Oh, you're also Schiller's student, so you should know—Jung said people must wear personas to adapt to society's countless rules."

"We unconsciously act according to the demands of our roles; if we deviate from social norms, people label us fools."

"I find this fascinating, because sometimes I feel it too."

"For example, surviving in Gotham means never showing weakness. Everyone knows the rule, everyone knows the other is bluffing—but no one calls it out."

"I lead the Ventriloquist Gang with a dominant persona, but the bosses of the gangs I intimidate are the same—we all know each other wears a mask, and who gains the upper hand depends on whose mask sticks tighter."

"Do you have a mask?" Jason asked, staring at Batman.

Batman looked into Jason's eyes and wondered if the boy was Schiller in disguise—he had just asked another question Batman couldn't answer.

Does Batman have a mask?

Of course he does. His mask is Bruce Wayne. Batman is the true self; Bruce Wayne is the mask.

According to Jung's theory, Bruce Wayne is the persona Batman created to meet societal expectations: a wealthy, idle, playboy heir.

The persona's function is to let a person live normally in society, to remain a part of it without being cast out—but if you break the mask, you risk this:

Like Batman's existence—a superhero with no mask, utterly violating Gotham's social norms—so he was rejected by society, excluded from normal life.

Jason pointed to another passage: "Jung believed if a person's true self fully submits to the persona, it's dangerous—if someone makes social acceptance their ultimate goal, they may obey any expectation society imposes."

"Then they lose all individuality; their purpose becomes becoming exactly what the group expects. To meet those expectations, they may commit all kinds of wrongs."

Jason then pointed to a marginal note beside the text:

"This seems to be Schiller's annotation: 'The persona needs both push and pull. If one focuses too much on societal expectations, guide them toward their own needs. If one focuses too much on their own needs, guide them toward societal expectations.'"

"Only when personal needs and societal expectations are balanced can the persona remain stable; otherwise, one falls into fear and disappointment toward both sides."

Batman's fingers twitched. He asked: "Did he say how to balance them?"

Jason shook his head. "Schiller didn't write it—maybe there wasn't space."

He paused, then said seriously: "I think it's not that complicated. Sometimes, meeting others' expectations makes you unhappy—but if you make yourself happy, you disappoint others."

"But ultimately, the people who truly love you want you to be happy. They'll want you to do what you love."

"If someone says, 'Do what you love—it makes me unhappy,' then they don't truly love you—or they think they love you, but really just want to control you."

"And if I face someone who truly loves me, I'm willing to sacrifice some time—not doing what I love, but doing what makes them happy. Isn't that love? I want you happy, and you want me happy…"

"How do you tell if someone truly loves you?" Batman asked.

"Didn't I just say?" Jason emphasized again. "If someone wants you to do what you love, and also puts effort into making you happy, then they truly love you."

In that instant, Batman thought of many names—he was stunned by their number, and stood frozen.

Those who wanted him to be Batman, and who also put effort into making Batman's life easier—broadly speaking, there were many.

Alfred knew Batman's mission was dangerous, yet never tried to stop him; instead, he meticulously cared for Bruce's life, ensuring he had no worries.

Catwoman truly loved the Batman identity; she genuinely thought he was cool, and even restrained herself, stealing less, to please him.

Dick had always admired Batman, wanting to learn from him, and when Batman lost control, he avoided him to prevent triggering him.

And Gordon, Harvey, and… Schiller?

Thinking of Schiller, Batman grew confused—why was Schiller's name on the list?

At that moment, a voice came from outside: "Jason, I'm back. Where did you get to? … Batman? What are you doing here???"

Before Batman could speak, Schiller stepped in, pointing his umbrella at Batman; in the rainy night classroom, Schiller roared:

"Batman!

You don't study yourself!

And now you're trying to corrupt others?!

"

Two minutes later, as Batman fled through the rain-soaked night, he thought: Schiller? He's a "common man" living among humanity. Batman? He's a god cast out by humanity.

Between man and god, love has no common ground—but hatred? That flows both ways—and lasts forever.