Chapter 10 The Quarrel

Jason was waiting for him in the living room, leaning against the wall with his arms folded, exuding an aura of "waiting for your explanation."

"Bat." He began, his tone neither salty nor bland, "How do Catwoman's lips taste? Sweeter than Jack's? "

The air was very quiet.

"Are you going to just keep silent?" Jason seemed to have been holding back for a long time, his voice unusually cold.

Bruce sat down, unbuckled his combat boots, and said, "You should go upstairs to bed."

"Don't change the subject." Jason took a step closer and stood in front of him, "You asked me to go back to the manor and told me there was a case to deal with, but I went on a date with Catwoman?"

"This is my business."

"I don't think this is a wise decision." Jason gritted his teeth.

Bruce finally looked up. "You broke my promise tonight."

"You pushed me away first," Jason's voice rose sharply. "You told me I wasn't qualified to handle those criminals, and you told me you were just kissing her?"

"You met with Catwoman," Jason said word by word. "You kissed her."

"You saw it clearly ."

"What about Jack?" Jason's voice dropped. "He didn't know you were meeting her, did he?"

— At that moment, a familiar laugh echoed from the depths of his mind.

"Oh, Birdie looks so sad,"

the Joker's voice drifted softly through Bruce's mind. "Batsy, shouldn't you tell him, 'I'm sorry, I don't really love her. I just wanted to reminisce about the past.'"

"At least show him some respect?"

Bruce stood up, his tall figure casting a shadow on the ground.

"This has nothing to do with you."

"He's my friend."

"You don't understand the situation."

"Then just tell him clearly!" Jason said angrily.

"You don't need to worry about what's going on between us."

Jason's Adam's apple rolled, and he swallowed a curse.

He stood there, his toes tapping hard on the edge of the floor.

"He thought you were just tired," he said disappointedly. "He saw me the other day and even did a three-minute 'Batman comedy routine,' asking me to judge if I had the 'Batman vibe.'"

Bruce's fingers twitched slightly.

That familiar hallucination crept closer again—

"How cute," the Joker whispered in his ear, his voice like licking a blade. "Don't be nervous, Batsy—" he lowered his voice. "You still have me."

Bruce closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if to suppress the voice in his head back to hell.

"You should focus on your studies and training. This isn't something you should be concerned about!"

Jason raised his chin and sneered.

"Got it," he said emphatically. "So Jack is another matter."

He turned and left, leaving only one sentence.

"Whatever, let's keep doing this."

Bruce turned abruptly and walked quickly to the bedroom.

He needed data, intelligence, something to clear his mind.

He couldn't let voices, dreams, and old emotions hold him captive any longer.

He couldn't—

as he approached the control console, he subconsciously glanced at the small window.

That was the background of the bracelet monitoring.

The radio mode was still on, and a line of blue audio lines could be seen jumping.

Bruce stared at the line for a few seconds.

Some force drove him to reach out and close the window.

He didn't want to hear Jack's voice.

At least not tonight. It

was five o'clock in the morning.

The light was still on in the master bedroom. The main computer terminal on the table hummed softly, and a series of retrieved data appeared on the screen.

Bruce leaned against the table, wearing pajamas, with a faint dark circles under his eyes. He hadn't slept all night. The system displayed the city's epidemic prevention and control data and Jack Napier's medical records.

There were also some old psychological files.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

Alfred walked in, holding a cup of black tea. He placed the cup on the corner of the table, his eyes fixed on the computer screen.

"You've been sitting here for over four hours," he said, his tone gentle.

"Yeah," Bruce replied in a low voice, "Just checking something."

Alfred didn't ask "what."

"Master Jason is still asleep. Last night, there was...some conflict between you and him."

Bruce's hands paused on the keyboard, and he looked up.

"I'll find a chance to talk to him."

"Including Mr. Jack?"

Silence.

Alfred let out a soft breath and added slowly,

"Master Bruce, you've been acting...very distant from him lately."

Bruce lowered his head again to scroll through the screen, coldly and stubbornly guarding his boundaries.

Alfred slowly walked around to his side and looked at the display.

He recognized them.

They were psychological monitoring modules, used to analyze the target's behavioral logic, emotional curves, and potential threats.

He had used similar systems in MI5 before.

"Are you investigating him?" he whispered.

Bruce's hand paused.

"...Just a security measure."

"When did we start using security measures on the people we love most?"

Bruce stood up, turned, and walked to the window, resting his hands on the windowsill and straightening his back.

"I don't think we need to discuss this topic right now," he said.

Alfred sighed.

"I respect your wishes, Master Bruce."

He pulled a folded notepad from his pocket.

"One more thing, Master Bruce."

"Commissioner Gordon sent a message last night. He conveyed the news—Barbara Gordon will soon be officially appointed Gotham's new Sheriff."

"He hopes Batman can meet with her tomorrow," Alfred continued. "It's like a working meeting, a pre-transition meeting between the old and the new, for the sake of order in Gotham."

"I'll be there,"

Alfred said without further ado, adding gently and respectfully:

"Meet at the usual place at midnight—this is his message."

With that, he exited the room, the door quietly closing.

The room was silent, the only sound emanating from the main control terminal.

He stood in front of the screen, his eyes fixed on the note on the table.

Perhaps this will be a new relationship of trust.

There will never be peace in Gotham.