Chapter 2: Meditation (Revised)

Bruce walked alone into the pitch-black Batcave.

The echoing footsteps seemed to torture him.

His body remembered how to move, but his mind was a tangled mess of thoughts, like a tangled ball of yarn—impossible to untangle.

"He's your partner... You've never treated him like this in two years."

Alfred's words echoed in his ears again. Bruce remembered his serious, earnest tone, as if stating a fait accompli.

But this was utter nonsense.

He and the Joker were sworn enemies, rivals... They could be guards and prisoners, doctors and patients... but they could never be "partners."

Bruce forced himself to calm down, opened the Batcave console, and began to retrieve the Batcomputer's operation logs from last night.

The screen lit up.

He entered the command and clicked to view.

To his surprise, a forbidden symbol suddenly appeared on the screen.

Access failed.

Bruce frowned and re-entered his password.

Still failed—no record existed.

He couldn't help but wonder: Could Alfred have cleared the data? That's unlikely. Normally, this would require his prior authorization...

So he checked the system time.

A second later, his fingers froze above the screen, his eyes fixed on it.

The current date was clearly displayed in the upper right corner: May 4th.

But he remembered clearly that yesterday was February 14th, Valentine's Day, a rare occasion for him to spend alone. He had originally planned to ask Lena out on a date—a recently popular new model with a unique personality and extensive knowledge. Unfortunately

, the clown's attack completely ruined those plans.

And now, nearly three months of memory had vanished.

He stared at the line representing the date for dozens of seconds, then switched to another control panel, calling up the surveillance footage from the manor entrance and setting the time to the evening of May 3rd.

As the footage loaded, his heartbeat quickened.

Playback began.

He saw two people enter the manor from the main gate.

One was him.

The other was the man—the one Alfred called "Jack."

They were chatting and laughing, he carrying a coat, Jack a handbag. He unlocked the door for Jack, and they walked into the manor side by side. The camera captured the intimacy of the two.

They even exchanged a kiss.

Afterwards, they went upstairs, entered the master bedroom, and closed the door.

Bruce stood in front of the main console, his fists unconsciously clenched, his knuckles turning white.

He switched back to the Batcave system and retrieved the operation records of February 14, trying to find clues from the records.

The access still failed.

There was no trace of him entering or leaving the Batcave, and there was no record of his communication with Robin and Penny One.

"This is ridiculous." He muttered to himself.

He remembered that day when the Joker hijacked a TV reporter and announced that he had placed a carefully prepared "Valentine's Day gift" for Batman in a bank in Gotham.

After a thorough search by him and Gordon, they finally pinpointed the bank. He rushed inside, and the Joker gassed him... They fought, and finally the Joker offered him a choice between rescuing the hostages or arresting him.

He ultimately rescued fifteen hostages, then chased the Joker through the sewers, nearly getting injured by a bomb...

Bruce was almost certain that everything in his mind was completely real, unaffected.

But what about the lost three months and the Joker's mystery?

...For now, he had no idea.

He sat down again, remembering that he had installed tracking systems on Jason and Alfred's phones... and entered their locations.

Jason Todd - Current Location: Wayne Manor, Gotham.

Alfred Pennyworth - Current Location: Wayne Manor, Gotham.

Everything was normal.

Bruce switched back to the file search interface and entered "Jack."

The search results quickly expanded. His files listed many people named Jack, but only one Jack who resembled the Joker. Bruce immediately recognized the man he was looking for - Jack Napier. Not to mention that this document was specially marked and placed with his family.

Jack Napier was a famous theater actor.

Legal status, birth records, tax returns, stage awards, news features.

And—

lots of photos of them together.

… Judging solely by these, Jack Napier loved documenting and sharing his life.

He saw photos of him and Jack on vacation in Italy, kissing backstage at the Gotham Opera, and photos of him trying to avoid gossip reporters but being secretly photographed.

Flipping through them one by one, he saw “himself” holding Jack’s hand, looking at him, both of them smiling.

“That’s impossible,” Bruce whispered, a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

He pulled up the call log.

“…You can’t keep mentioning my name in interviews.”

“I know, but I just want them to know how much you mean to me, Bruce.”

Bruce stood up abruptly, his breathing a little unsteady. It was as if two worlds existed simultaneously before his eyes: one with the Joker, the other with Jack.

But now, these two worlds overlapped.

He accessed the Batcomputer's advanced permissions and began searching—the past of Bruce Wayne and Jack Napier.

Call logs, travel itineraries, bank transactions, photographs, interviews, medical records...

even a copy of the psychological consultation file Jack had sent him:

"Mr. Bruce Wayne has recently repeatedly mentioned a sense of 'unreality,' including auditory and visual hallucinations. A psychological evaluation is recommended."

Bruce watched silently, motionless.

He had no recollection of any of this.

Yet these "memories" existed in databases, media reports, and family accounts.

Something was wrong.

This was... a fabricated reality.

He lowered his eyes, his gaze cold.

But something complex was slowly eroding him—

fear.

The fear that all this was real.

But he knew there had to be something wrong.

Whether it was the world that was distorted, or he himself.

He raised his head, his gaze sharp.

He would find the truth.

————————————————————————————

Jason Todd, sweat dripping from his forehead, completed his final backflip, his boots landing firmly on the gym's wooden floor with a resounding thud. He took a breath, shrugged off his arm guards, and couldn't help but curl his lips.

"Awesome," he thought.

The training dummy was kicked into a corner. He felt his reflexes had improved significantly since last night's patrol, especially in the alleyway fights, now almost as fast as a "faded Robin."

He firmly believed he would become the best Robin ever.

Jason wiped the sweat from his forehead and headed for the exit, wondering if there would be steak for breakfast tonight. His mind was still replaying last night's actions, recalling the moments fighting alongside Bruce.

Just then, he heard a strange sound.

Unlike the usual quiet breakfast, two people were talking in the living room—not loudly, but one could hear intermittent inhalations.

He paused, frowning.

When he entered the living room, the scene he saw froze him.

Jack lay on the sofa, dressed in a shirt and covered with a blanket, leaning against a pillow. A large, swollen, purple bruise covered the side of his face, a scratch at the corner of his mouth, and a rose-colored bruise on his neck, striking against his pale skin.

It was as if he'd been in a fight.

Alfred sat beside him, carefully applying an ice pack and soothing him.

"Fuck..." Jason couldn't help but curse. "Who did this?"

Jack looked up. The corners of his eyes were also swollen, and his whole face looked a little funny. Seeing it was him, he tried to pull the corners of his mouth together and said,

"Morning, Jason."

"Don't be too early." Jason walked over quickly, stood in front of Jack, studied his face, which looked like a palette, and asked grimly, "How did you become like this?"

"Uh..."

Jack hesitated and opened his mouth, but couldn't think of what to say, and finally closed it again.

"Who hit you?" Jason was determined to pry the truth out of Jack. "Being beaten like this... do you have a grudge against someone? Or is there someone who wants you dead?"

Alfred stopped him, his tone low but firm: "Calm down, Master Jason. He needs to rest now, not recount that experience."

"Please—as a friend, I need to understand the whole story, and I have the ability to retaliate for him."

Jason pressed his lips downward, remembering the person who most needed to know about this. He asked:

"Where's Bruce? Does he know?"

Just then—

click.

There was a faint sound of metal colliding behind him.

Jason turned and saw Bruce appear on the stairs, his expression unreadable.

"Oh great, you're finally here," Jason breathed a sigh of relief, "Bruce, someone beat Jack up, and it was very heavy--"

He spoke quickly:

"It looks like an act of revenge. You have to look at the marks on his neck. He was almost strangled to death. Did you know about this?"

Bruce stopped and stood with his back to the light, his expression unreadable, his eyes sweeping over everyone in the living room.

His gaze jumped from Jason to Alfred, and finally landed on Jack.

But he said nothing.

The atmosphere seemed a little weird.

... a little too quiet.

Jason frowned, he slowly turned around and looked at Jack: "Tell me, what happened? The scars are very fresh... where did you go last night?"

Jack opened his mouth but did not answer immediately. There was a moment of wandering in his eyes, and then -

"An accident during the theater rehearsal..." Jack said dryly, "My partner... The communication between him and the props team was not in place... In short, it's not a big deal."

"Really?" Jason looked skeptical, "Who is the partner you are talking about? Miss Steven? Are you sure...she can do it?"

Jack laughed dryly and explained:

"No, no...no, it's a new actor with little experience, so there was an accident."

Jason wanted to say something, but Alfred suddenly cleared his throat, stood up and stopped him, saying:

"Master Jason, I'd like to trouble you to get me some bandages."

Finally, he left the living room with a suspicious expression.