Chapter 45: Incarnating as a Prosecutor

Around eleven o'clock at night, an old gentleman was beaten to death with a walking stick on a major street. The sturdy walking stick was shattered into pieces by the savage blows, and the old gentleman's corpse was reduced to something resembling a paste of minced meat and a milkshake.

Of course, in the true city of Gotham, this homicide was by no means considered particularly brutal; it belonged to that category of crimes that warranted only a few lines in the corner of a newspaper, unworthy even of a photograph.

The police quickly intervened, and Bruce rushed to the scene at once.

Upon arriving, Bruce looked at the body in a daze, but he soon found an eyewitness—a maid who lived alone in a nearby house and had happened to witness the entire incident.

"I still can't believe it was real. It was like a nightmare, oh dear..." The maid's voice trembled, clearly shaken to the core.

"Ma'am, take a deep breath, relax. You're safe now," Bruce said gently. "Could you tell me what you saw tonight?"

"Oh... yes, Mr. Harvey," the maid took a deep breath. "By eleven o'clock last night, I had already gone upstairs to my bedroom to rest. Midnight doesn't have as much fog as the early morning hours, and the moonlight was very bright, so everything outside was clearly visible. I walked over to the window to meditate in the moonlight."

"And then?"

"At that time, I saw a gentleman with a full head of white hair walking along the alley."

"What did that gentleman look like?" Bruce asked.

"He was tall, with a kind face. His hair and beard were completely white, making him look like an honest, kindly old man. His attire was extremely refined; he wore a well-fitted black suit, a delicate tie, and his leather shoes were polished to a mirror shine."

"I see. What happened next?"

"Then, a short gentleman holding a walking stick came walking toward him from the opposite direction. That man's face was deeply distorted. Although there were no external wounds, it looked as if he had been terribly disfigured. He had visited my master before, and I had a very deep impression of that face."

"Do you know his name?"

"No." The maid shook her head. "At the time, my master brought him straight into the study, and after chatting for a little while, saw him out. That gentleman never mentioned his name."

Bruce nodded, signaling for the maid to continue.

"That old gentleman greeted him, but the man didn't reply. Instead, he impatiently twirled his walking stick. After a couple of minutes, he suddenly flew into a rage, knocked the old gentleman to the ground with a single blow, and then trampled him underfoot, beating him viciously with the stick. I heard the snapping of the old gentleman's bones and his cries of agonizing pain... It was simply horrifying. I was so terrified that I fainted."

"I understand..." Bruce interlaced his fingers, finally grasping the situation.

After asking the maid a few other details, Bruce headed to the police station. The broken walking stick had already been brought in as evidence.

"Mr. Harvey, what brings you here?" The police officers greeted Bruce one after another.

"With such a shocking crime taking place, I came to see what the situation is." Bruce felt somewhat unaccustomed to the policemen's enthusiastic attitude. "Has the victim's identity been confirmed?"

"It has. It's Sir Danvers Carew."

"Ah..." Hearing this name confirmed Bruce's suspicions.

Walking into the captain's office, Commissioner Gordon was busy inside, currently agonizing over how to draft a wanted poster for yesterday's criminal.

According to the eyewitness's description, the culprit was a fellow with extremely distinct personal features, possessing an indescribably deformed visage. Yet not a single trace of this person could be found in the police archives, which was utterly perplexing.

Commissioner Gordon sighed, raised his head to stretch his cervical spine, and happened to see his close friend standing in the doorway.

"Harvey? What's wrong?" Commissioner Gordon asked with a puzzled expression. "Why did you suddenly come to my office? Isn't it still working hours?"

"I have something to tell you regarding the murder that took place last night." Bruce sat down on the other side of Commissioner Gordon's desk. "I know who the killer is."

"Who is it?" Commissioner Gordon asked, startled.

"It's me." Bruce leaned back in his chair, fingers interlaced, speaking in a strange tone: "Respectability and depravity, indulgence and restraint, honesty and deceit—human beings possess this duality, just like this city, where wealthy, respectable streets and violence-ridden alleys lie side by side."

"What on earth are you talking about..." Commissioner Gordon was completely baffled.

"To put it simply, the crime was committed by Harvey Dent's other personality," Bruce said. Having read *Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde*, the sense of déjà vu in this plot was simply too strong.

Yet why would Harvey's dream turn out to be *Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde*? Though he indeed possessed a dual personality, his ideal surely wasn't to become Jekyll and Hyde, was it?

"...Harvey, I think you've been under too much mental stress lately." Commissioner Gordon looked at Bruce with growing concern.

"No, everything I'm saying is true." Bruce shook his head. "Harvey's demon was locked away for a very long time, and now it has roared its way out of the cage. At the crime scene, I clearly felt its presence; it beat that defenseless flesh with ecstatic joy, savoring a fraction of pleasure with every single blow... I have already decided to perish together with that demon. Before coming here, I drank poison."

"No... you're wrong." Commissioner Gordon suddenly let out a bizarre laugh, his body gradually shattering and transforming into a massive bat bound by iron chains. "That's not Harvey Dent's demon..."

"It's yours, Bruce Wayne!"

Bruce felt himself plunging downward. The objects around him shattered continuously. In a fragment of a mirror, he caught sight of his own reflection: dressed entirely in black, wearing a metal visor covered in iron spikes over his eyes, sporting the pale white face and split lips of the Joker, wearing a ferocious and terrifying grin.

"Wake up." Grilda woke Bruce up in a rather rough manner. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine..."

"Your physiological indicators just now looked like a stock I bought in the past. Grilda was scared to death," Roland said. "What on earth happened?"

"...I went through a version of the Jekyll and Hyde story, but it seems I missed the core of the puzzle." Bruce removed the device from his head and fell into deep thought.

"Why don't you let me try?" Roland suggested, immensely curious about what Bruce had just experienced.

"Well..." Bruce thought for a moment. "You need to be careful. Whatever you do, don't think about perishing together with your dark side."

"Alright, I understand." Roland put on the Wonderland device, drank the sleeping draught, and drifted off to sleep.