In The DC World With Marvel Chat Group

Chapter 251: Campfire on a Snowy Night (End)

When Alberto left, it was already dark outside. Schiller didn't even have time to rest before the doorbell rang again.

This time, it was Bruce who appeared at the door. He was wearing a turtleneck sweater and a trench coat, looking tall and upright. When Mrs. Miller passed by, he even smiled and nodded at her, making Mrs. Miller very happy.

As Bruce sat across from Schiller at the table and saw his increasingly serious expression, Schiller said, "It's been a while since you last visited the psychology clinic at Gotham University. Now you've made an appointment at Arkham Hospital for treatment. What's wrong?"

"It's been a while since you visited the psychology clinic at Gotham University too, Professor."

Schiller sighed and said, "You voluntarily made the appointment for psychological therapy. Don't use a tone of trying to gain the upper hand in a business negotiation. Are you the doctor or am I the doctor?"

"If you approach it with an attitude of wanting to win a negotiation, then I suggest you go home and talk to a wall."

Bruce's lips moved slightly, and then he said, "It's actually Alfred..."

"Your butler? What happened to him?"

"Earlier, Vince stayed at my house for a few days, and Alfred was very happy. But after he left, I could clearly feel that Alfred was a bit down..."

Schiller looked into Bruce's eyes and said, "Isn't that normal? When a friend leaves, anyone would feel a little unhappy, right?"

"I think you're thinking about this, so what you're currently upset about is that you've realized Alfred has been in a state of loneliness all along, and you haven't cared about him before..."

"He has been with me since I was young. I know his interests. I once prepared opera tickets for him and thought about taking him on a trip or building a retirement home for him, but he didn't want any of it..."

"You think it's because he liked Vince, and he's unhappy because Vince left?"

"Isn't it?"

Schiller shook his head and said, "I think he's happy because you agreed to let Vince stay at your place, or rather, he's happy because you made friends at university."

"But..."

"Are you trying to say that you don't need friends? Or, taking it a step further, you think you don't need those unnecessary emotions? Then what do you feel for Alfred?"

Bruce's mouth moved again, but he didn't say that word. It seemed he didn't want to mention that word, but Schiller pretended he heard it and said, "Let's compare Alfred to your parents. I don't think you would object to this analogy."

"Usually, normal parents feel happy and relieved when their children bring classmates and friends home and get along well with them. Most of this happiness comes from seeing their children grow in interpersonal relationships. But there is also a part of it that stems from their sentimental and rational judgment, which is happy for their children's ability to give and receive emotions normally."

"If their children have the ability to give and receive emotions normally, it means that the children can feel their parents' love. When you can be sure that your love is being received by someone else, you feel extremely happy because this is a common emotional feedback mechanism."

"On the other hand, if your child shows indifference to everyone around them, as if their heart is lifeless, parents will start to worry whether their child can feel their love or if it's because they didn't love them enough that their child's ability to give and receive emotions is problematic..."

"Alfred is the same. He is like your parents, placing all his emotions on you. When you show any negative changes, he

reflects on himself, and when you show positive changes, this positive feedback also reflects on him, making him feel happy."

"This is the most normal relationship between parents and children in this world. Put yourself in someone else's shoes, empathize."

"Now you should understand some of the reasons behind Alfred's emotional fluctuations, right?"

Bruce nodded, indicating that he fully understood this theory, and then said, "So what do you think I should do now?"

"That's for you to decide. I think Alfred should know you well. He should know which is the real you, which of your emotions are genuine, and which are a facade."

"Now, he feels happy for your friendship with Vince. So, can I infer in reverse that you did experience some positive emotions in this friendship?" Schiller said helplessly when Bruce remained silent. "You can't expect me to read your mind, Bruce. If you don't voice your answer, do you want me to guess?"

"If by positive emotions you mean sleepless fatigue and the frustration of being dragged to listen to some cliché operas, then yes, there were some."

"I recall that bats are mammals, not birds..." Schiller looked at Bruce, and Bruce looked back at him, unsure of what topic he was about to bring up. Then Schiller changed the subject indirectly and said, "Birds don't have your stubbornness."

"Sleepless fatigue? Why don't you mention it when you're out all night in a tight suit fighting criminals? Frustration from being dragged to listen to some cliché operas? If Vince had the ability to defeat you, he wouldn't need to resort to a bomb to blow himself up in the pit of a church..."

Bruce didn't show any embarrassment from being exposed. He remained expressionless and said, "I came here to seek solutions. I can't let Vince stay in my Manor indefinitely. Even if Falcone has no objections, Selina would be very angry..."

"Before seeking a solution, it's better for you to state your problem."

"I've already stated my problem. I discovered that Alfred has been immersed in a state of loneliness, and I want to make a change."

"I've already provided the answer to that problem. When you're happy, your butler is happy. When you're not happy, he's not happy."

Bruce fell silent again, realizing that he was trapped by Schiller. If this theory held true, the method to make Alfred happy was simple—make himself happy.

In theory, this solution should be effective, but in practice, it was almost impossible to implement because Batman was seldom happy.

Or rather, it wasn't that he wasn't happy, but his emotions didn't fluctuate much.

The atmosphere in the room became silent again. Schiller didn't continue giving advice to Bruce because if they followed the normal process, he would have to delve into Batman's inner self and explore why he wasn't happy and how to make him happy.

Considering that conducting research on this topic could potentially infringe on the intellectual property of the Joker, Schiller decided it was best not to delve into it.

"Do you think it's possible for his emotions not to rely entirely on me?" Bruce raised another possibility.

Indeed, that is a direction to consider. According to that theory, there is a psychological journey that all parents go through. If they genuinely believe that their child is already happy and can lead a fulfilling life even without them, understanding that the child's greatest source of happiness no longer comes from parental care, then they will proactively detach their emotions. They will either transfer them to others or focus on themselves.

Schiller capped his pen and made a soft sound. He looked at Bruce and asked, "Do you have any plans to get married recently?"

The sudden change in topic left Bruce stunned.

"I'm not joking. If you have plans to get married recently, Alfred might be able to break free from this state. Or better yet, have a child with Selina. That would fundamentally resolve this situation."

Bruce shook his head gently, and Schiller continued, "There's another possibility. The parents' unfulfilled obsession outweighs their love for their child. When they rekindle this obsession, their emotions detach from the child and focus on this obsession instead."

"Obsession..." Bruce murmured with a furrowed brow. Schiller continued to ask, "Although it may be offensive, I still want to ask, does your butler still have any living relatives?"

Bruce shook his head again, and Schiller asked, "Has he ever been married or had someone he was interested in?"

Bruce paused for a moment and then shook his head again. Schiller asked, "Is it that he hasn't, or that you don't know?"

"I know some things, but not in detail. That may be the problem. He knows me very well, but..."

"Well, you investigate every person around you, even remember information about strangers you've only met once on the road, but you lack a detailed understanding of your closest butler... Perhaps this is his special way of showing himself to you."

"I will think of a solution," Bruce finally said.

The fireplace in the room was fully ablaze. The fire burned brighter and brighter, but on the contrary, as the sky darkened, the temperature dropped. When the rain started to fall, it turned into tiny ice crystals and soon transformed into pale snowflakes.

It's hard to imagine a city where it snows in autumn on the East Coast, but Gotham has been absurd for a long time, and this bit of strangeness doesn't make much of a difference.

Schiller sat behind his desk, reading a book, while people came and went in front of the desk.

In the eyes of Copperpot, who was struggling with life choices, the desktop turned into a layer of ice where he stood. The small bird wobbled and toppled off the table, falling into the sea. In the deep blue ocean, it saw a faint cluster of flames.

Harvey Dent, with his dual-sided face, walked in, and the room became his stage. Outside the window, there was lightning and thunder. When the lightning struck, a dazzling light split the entire room in half—half black and half white. When a cluster of flames ignited along this boundary, it was brighter than the sun.

Before Dent's figure completely left, Batman entered. The snowy night of his mind was darker and colder than anyone else's. The cluster of flames had become so faint that it was almost invisible, yet he stood there, as if even an illusory light could provide him with a hint of warmth, even if only psychologically.

Three figures stood by the campfire. Soon, more people approached. Some faces were familiar, staying for a while before disappearing into the wind and snow. Some figures were ethereal, as if separated by a barrier of the universe.

When the cold wind rose and the flames grew weaker, the figures coming and going threw pieces of firewood into the bonfire. The crackling sound of burning wood resounded once again. Suddenly, an urgent doorbell rang, and Schiller looked up. A green-haired figure stood outside the door, holding a bottle of alcohol in hand.

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