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Chapter 169: The Long Easter (9)

On a windless cold night in Gotham, the air around the grand Church seemed to have condensed into a transparent ice block. The cold moonlight projected onto the statue of Jesus through the top window, dragging out a long cross-shaped shadow on the cold-colored tiles.

In the middle of the cross was a huge crack in the old Church floor, like an abyss, splitting the shadow of the suffering Jesus.

A faint light shone through the crack, as if something was floating underneath, and two different figures were seen in the two directions pointed by the cross on the ground.

On the left, Batman's face was solemn, his muscles tense, and although he still stood straight, it was apparent that he was ready to strike.

Opposite him stood Evans, half-kneeling on the ground, bowing his head, his expression unclear under the faint moonlight.

In mid-air, clouds as thin as gauze drifted past the moon, and the moonlight projected through the window became like plucked strings, flickering on and off.

A shadow covered Batman, and the blue patterns in his eyes, visible between his mask, turned into pointers of varying lengths. With the moonlight dimming again, the hour hand went back half a circle, everything returning to ten hours ago.

Copperpot stood in front of the cabinet in the old house, watching his mother rummage through a pile of dusty old things. Copperpot walked to his mother's side and tried to grab her arm to help her up.

But Mrs. Copperpot waved her arm and pushed her son away. Copperpot was a little helpless and asked, "Mom, what exactly are you looking for? We've searched through all the cabinets in the house."

Behind Copperpot was a room full of clutter, not only in the center of the living room, but also at the entrance to the bedroom, piled up with all sorts of rotten and broken things.

"I'm looking for an umbrella, an umbrella! It's raining, and we need an umbrella..."

Copperpot picked up the umbrella next to him and handed it to his mother, but Mrs. Copperpot seemed to ignore him and continued to rummage through the lower cabinets.

From nightfall to daybreak, and from daybreak to nightfall, Mrs. Copperpot kept searching until she was exhausted and had to rest. Only then did Copperpot have time to tidy up these old things.

In recent days, Mrs. Copperpot's condition had improved somewhat and she was no longer as prone to aggression, but in contrast, she had become increasingly eccentric. Every day, she would search through the clutter in the house, and Copperpot was unable to stop her, so he could only follow her to clean up.

He was half-kneeling on the ground, supporting his body with one knee, and picking up the clutter around him and putting it back into the cabinet.

This cabinet located below the bookshelf contains mostly old Copperpot's collection, such as picture frames and candlesticks. These things are not valuable, but Mrs. Copperpot will take them out and polish them when she is sober to remember Copperpot's father.

Copperpot wanted to put the last picture frame back on the top shelf of the cabinet, but when he tried to put it in, he found that something was blocking it, preventing the frame from fully fitting in and the cabinet door from closing.

Thinking that something was not aligned from before, Copperpot reached in to adjust it. However, he discovered an envelope-like object deep in the cabinet.

Copperpot took out the envelope and found that the back of it was covered in dust. In the dim light of the living room, he used his finger to wipe off the dust and discovered a line of beautiful calligraphy: "To Copperpot..."

Copperpot frowned. He was sure he had never received such a letter before, and no one would send such a solemn letter to a destitute poor boy like him.

The envelope was made of delicate stationery, with clear English handwriting and no signs of ink smudging.

Copperpot turned the letter over and found that the wax seal on it had already been broken. The seal on the wax was somewhat familiar to Copperpot.

He opened the envelope and took out the letter inside, which had a familiar signature: "Carmine Falcone."

This was an invitation from the old Godfather.

The text on it was very short, inviting Copperpot to attend a funeral. The writer was Carmine Falcone, and the funeral was held at the Gotham Church.

Copperpot scanned the invitation up and down and found that it was indeed the handwriting of the old Godfather. But what was special was the small line of words below the main text of the funeral invitation: "Please be sure to attend, otherwise I will personally come to greet you."

Copperpot's eyes widened. He had not forgotten his father, who died attending the funeral of the Godfather's eldest son in the rain.

But this invitation made him feel very strange.

Generally, few people would write such a formal invitation for a funeral, let alone the deceased's biological father.

Copperpot had seen the handwriting of the old Godfather before, and he could tell that Falcone's handwriting on this invitation was very steady and fluent, not like that of an old man who had just lost his eldest son.

Moreover, the small print made people doubt, it was clearly a threat. Who would force someone to attend a funeral?

Copperpot vaguely remembered that the day after his father returned from the funeral, he had a high fever. He was burning up, barely conscious, lying in bed, and couldn't even speak a complete sentence. The doctor said it was pneumonia, but before they could take him to the hospital, he died. Copperpot didn't get any last words from his father, so he had no idea what had happened at the funeral he had attended.

But this invitation letter made Copperpot very suspicious.

He also recalled his conversation with Evans. Copperpot was very good at using words to move people's hearts and obtain information. During his conversation with Evans, he had also tried to inquire about The Godfather, the mysterious eldest son. However, he didn't get any useful information from Evans.

Copperpot crouched in front of the cabinet and began to calculate. Based on the available information, he deduced that Evans should have been born before Alberto's death. Although their age difference was still unclear, Alberto and Evans should have lived together for a period of time.

What puzzled Copperpot was that Evans' description of his own brother was always very abstract, and there were many contradictions. For example, he had mentioned that Alberto was a very hardworking and ambitious person, and a genius with exceptional talent. He was the natural successor to The Godfather, but he always said that Alberto was frustrated because he couldn't complete The Godfather's mission. In Evans' description, the most mentioned thing was Alberto's quarrel with The Godfather.

The invitation letter that Copperpot accidentally discovered at home rekindled his doubts about his father's death. With this doubt in mind, when he returned to his hospital room at Arkham Mental Hospital, he began to guide Evans to remember more information in his daily conversations.

"Last time you said you wanted to join the college basketball team. You must have been playing basketball since you were a kid, right? To be honest..."

Copperpot lay on the hospital bed, changed his posture, and said with longing in his tone, "I envy families with many children like yours. Brothers are natural playmates. The brothers who live on the street corner of my house are like that. I often see them playing soccer in the alley. Your brother should have played basketball with you, right?"

"He..." Evans subconsciously wanted to answer, but as if the words were stuck in his throat, he stopped. Evans sat on the bed and stared blankly. Copperpot asked him, "What's wrong with you?"

"It's nothing..." Evans shook his head and said, "I just can't remember. I remember that my relationship with my brother was very good, and we should have played together, but I can't remember anything specific."

"I'm sorry to be presumptuous, but yesterday I found an invitation letter at home. It's from The Godfather inviting my father to attend your brother's funeral. You must have attended your brother's funeral, right?"

"Funeral?" Evans muttered the word and then sat on the bed in a daze without answering. After a while, he said, "I seem to...sorry, but my childhood memories are not very clear, I don't remember what happened back then."

Evans sighed and said, "Lately, my emotions have been bad, I often have dreams, and it may affect my memory."

"The church in Gotham is temporarily inaccessible, and I can't go to pray. This makes me feel anxious, and I haven't seen the old Father for a long time. Usually, I like to confide in him."

Evans looked very sad, and Copperpot said to him, "Do you want to try writing him a letter?"

Evans shook his head and said, "The big church in Gotham is in bad shape, and a big hole has opened up in the ground. It will take a long time to repair, and it's a bit dangerous to work on. The old Father moved away from there, and I don't know where he lives now."

"But you are The Godfather's son. If someone goes to inquire, they should be able to find out, right?"

Evans thought for a moment and said, "Actually, I don't really want to bother Father. After all, he rarely gets a holiday."

"But Easter is such an important holiday. He can't preach to the believers in the church, and he must feel very lonely. If you had a good relationship before, why not go and accompany him?"

Evans pondered for a moment and said, "You make a good point. I'll have someone go and look for him. If I can find him, I can also invite him to Falcone Manor for Easter."

"Your relationship with The Godfather..."

"It's not as bad as you think," Evans sighed slightly and said, "The Godfather is not worried about my ambition, he is more worried that I don't have any ambition."

"I don't know why, but whenever I'm facing him, especially when we're discussing something seriously, I always feel impatient. I feel like I urgently want to say something to him, but I can't find the words."

"I always behave very biased when I'm facing him, even though I don't act like that when I'm interacting with my classmates and teachers."

"Before I was hospitalized, this situation became more and more serious. We almost argued several times, and I suspected that I might have some psychological problems, so I went to see Professor Schiller."

"So, you came here because of this?"

Evans nodded and then said, "Now it seems that I might not be sick, but I just think too much and have poor emotional control."

"If medical means cannot alleviate your emotions, you can also try seeking help from faith." Copperpot said to Evans, "Although I don't believe in God, if you are a devout believer, perhaps everything will get better on Easter?"

"I hope so."

As the moonlight outside the window became darker, Copperpot heard Evans praying softly, and the sound echoed in the empty hospital room, making people drowsy.