Chapter 15 The Trial

The Mad Hatter stood under the spotlight, his arms stretched out passionately, the feathers on his hat bouncing up and down with his breath.

"Ladies and gentlemen--"

his voice echoed throughout the theater.

"I will bring a trial--a trial for the traitors!"

Almost no one thought something was wrong, and there was even a burst of applause from the audience.

He walked in dramatic steps to the throne. Jack was tied to the seat motionless, with his head lowered, allowing the chains to bind his limbs.

"Him!" The Mad Hatter faced the audience, and he lifted Jack's chin with his scepter, "He's not the king! He's the liar who stole Alice!"

Jack's expression was strange, a mixture of obedience and pain, his temples bulging with veins, and his whole body trembling slightly.

Bruce grabbed the handle of the chair.

"Alice is mine—" the Mad Hatter muttered dazedly, recounting past memories. "She said she loved me in a dream, she helped me choose a new hat, and she said she'd accept my invitation to the feast..."

A smile crept onto his cheeks, but then it was quickly swallowed by twisted rage.

"But she didn't choose me! This heinous sinner stole her heart!" He turned and pointed angrily at the chained Jack.

"Macbeth!" He raised his scepter high, like a swordsman wielding a longsword. "Tonight, I pronounce sentence—your part is over!"

A series of mechanical sounds echoed, and the curtain above the stage fell away, revealing a massive axe, a cold metallic gleam.

Bruce abruptly stood up.

His mind warned him not to reveal his identity, to hold back. He had already informed the others; they should first find the hypnosis device...

but his body was faster than his mind.

He leaped out, leaping across the aisle and onto the stage. He heard screams, the clatter of overturned chairs, and the Mad Hatter's manic laughter.

But he ignored them.

Time froze in that moment.

He saw Jack, crowned, trapped like a puppet in the seat of power, his own image reflected in Jack's deep green eyes.

A familiar, chilling voice echoed in his head:

"You can't save him."

"You never save anyone."

No—

no, he couldn't die—

Bruce lunged at Jack, shoving the chair out of the axe's path. With a sharp scrape of wood and the thud of chains, the axe plummeted from the sky, splintering the stage planks. The sharp blade cleaved through the throne, and blood gushed from Jack's left arm, soaking his ornate cape.

The audience erupted in gasps.

Jack, startled awake by the pain, felt a warm arm wrap around his waist, another hand ripping the chains from his body.

"You've ruined my play!" the Mad Hatter shouted in anger.

"Your script has to be rewritten now." Bruce rushed in front of him as nimbly as a bat and punched him. The Mad Hatter rolled to the edge of the stage in a mess, and his scepter and hat slid to the bottom of the stage.

Bruce punched him in the face again and again, pinning him to the ground.

In the chaos, the theater security rushed up and held the Mad Hatter down, and Bruce stopped.

He turned around and saw Jack leaning against the wreckage of the throne with difficulty. His expression was not very good, but the corners of his mouth raised a few pixels.

"...Dear," he whispered, "I think I will love you forever."

Bruce walked over and carefully examined his wound, frowned and said: "The wound on the left arm is very serious, and the bleeding is very heavy."

Jack's eyelids were a little heavy, and he leaned against him gently: "Um...well, can you help me sew it up?"

"I'll take you to the hospital."

Bruce helped him stand up.

There was chaos in the audience. Several reporters with sharp noses had already rushed to the front of the stage. Someone shouted, "Snap! That's Bruce Wayne!"

When the flash went off, Bruce tilted his head slightly and blocked Jack's face with his shoulder.

—————— The air in

Gotham Hospital

was filled with the smell of disinfectant.

Jack sat on a chair at the door of the emergency room, his left hand bandaged and his right hand hanging with an IV. He was in good spirits, dangling one leg over the other.

Bruce came out of the emergency room with a medical certificate.

"Although there are no broken bones and only a few stitches," Bruce looked at Jack, "but according to the doctor's orders, you need to rest for a few days due to the amount of bleeding."

Jack nodded perfunctorily, but he was thinking about leaving the hospital and returning to the theater.

"So I just called the person in charge of your theater and asked for a week's leave for you."

"Hey!" Jack suddenly straightened up and the IV was almost ripped off. "You actually—told them I needed a week off? Did you know they'd replace the lead actor?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow. He reached into his jacket pocket and waved a dark card in front of Jack's eyes.

"So I just paid for the theater to spend a week renovating and maintaining it."

Jack was momentarily stunned. He stared at the card for a few seconds before letting out a slow laugh.

"Okay, okay... You really do know how to make me happy, Brucey baby."

Jack blew him a kiss with his good hand.

"Don't move, you will pull the pipe."

"Okay, sweetheart, I'm very obedient~"

Jack pretended to be well-behaved. He leaned close to Bruce and stared at him, teasing: "Since you have become the sweetheart daddy of our theater, have you asked them to open a secret passage for Little Batman to connect to my room alone?"

"No." Bruce didn't show any expression, "But I proposed to redecorate the backstage security passage. The Mad Hatter came in from there. I also asked them to establish facial verification for actors, to prevent a madman in costume from sneaking in next time."

"A very responsible sweetheart daddy," Jack blinked, "the boss of our troupe will fall in love with you."

Bruce didn't laugh.

Jack tilted his head and stared at him for a while, pointing out: "You don't look interested."

Bruce whispered: "If I had come a second later..."

"Then I would have been chopped in half?" Jack added for him, his tone seeming nonchalant, "Although it's a bit bloody, people like to see something exciting. Maybe the theater tickets will sell better next time."

"Jack."

"Honey," Jack sighed, "don't keep thinking about 'if', you've already done it."

Bruce looked at him without saying anything.

"You saved me." Jack smiled and said cheerfully, "In front of a group of hypnotized actors and confused audiences, you rushed forward and pulled me out from under the murder axe. You are my hero."