Chapter 36: True Imprisonment

At first, everything was blank.

He felt like he was floating on the surface of water, a pure white world, his senses hazy, his body weightless, like a piece of driftwood, bobbing with the waves.

Then, things began to shift. The pure white world was stained black, and the calm surface of the water became turbulent.

A whirlpool suddenly appeared in the water, and a powerful pull took hold of his body, pulling him down, down...

Gradually, he began to lose his breath. Water poured into his mouth and nose, and the feeling of suffocation enveloped him. He struggled to break free—

Jack coughed and suddenly opened his eyes.

His vision was blurry, and he lay dazed on the bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

He instinctively rubbed his eyes, but felt the cool fever patch on his forehead.

Oh, he realized belatedly that he seemed to have a fever. His body was exhausted, his limbs were weak, and his breath was hot.

He struggled to sit up and surveyed his surroundings. He was surrounded by white walls without wallpaper. He lay in a place that looked like a bedroom, with no windows, only a metal door.

Where was he now?

Jack thought dazedly. He didn't remember this place, and he didn't know how he got here.

He tried to recall what had happened today.

He remembered the date, the fire, the rubble, the car.

His last memory was— he

couldn't open the car door.

Bruce.

He remembered Bruce helping him open the car door, and he remembered feeling a tingling sensation in his hand at that moment, as if something had pierced his body. The next second, the world was spinning.

...

Could it be?

... No, it couldn't be.

The memory suddenly sobered him up. He jumped out of bed, stepped barefoot on the floor, and quickly went to the door. Enduring the pain, he pulled hard on the doorknob.

... Damn, it won't open.

His face turned grim.

"Is anyone there?" Jack shouted, pounding on the iron door.

There was no response.

"Is anyone there? What the hell is going on?" The door made a dull sound, and his injured palm brought a sharp pain. "Let me out!"

He pressed his ear to the crack of the door, trying to catch any movement outside.

At that moment, his keen hearing caught the sound of footsteps, followed by the lock turning and the door being pushed open...

Jack took two steps back and looked up—

it was Bruce.

A flash of surprise crossed Jack's face.

"Bruce," the voice suddenly lost its earlier aggression, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Where is this? How did I get here? What happened?"

Bruce stared at him in silence, as if trying to decide what to say. After a few seconds, he said,

"I think you should know."

"...What should I know?" Jack forced a smile, his expression strange. "Honey, I think you need to give me a hint."

Bruce's face remained expressionless. He remained silent, simply staring at him with calm blue eyes.

The air froze.

A chill washed over Jack, instantly wiping away his joy and relief. He began to feel uneasy.

"You're here to take me home, right?" Jack asked softly. He clenched his hands involuntarily, the pain seeming to vanish in that moment.

"No, you need to stay here for a while."

The man's tone was relatively gentle, but his words held an irresistible edge.

At that moment, his heart skipped a beat.

All those doubts and suspicions he'd harbored about the matter suddenly surfaced. Bruce's words undoubtedly confirmed a possibility he'd been reluctant to consider.

Jack's heart sank. He took a step back, his expression becoming unreadable.

"This is your place," he whispered, scanning the enclosed room before staring back at Bruce. "You brought me here." Bruce

didn't object, but rather acquiesced to Jack's explanation.

"So it wasn't my imagination?" Jack muttered, seemingly arguing with himself or questioning Bruce. "You knocked me out?"

... He saw the answer in Bruce's expression.

"Why?" Jack's tone hardened, anger brewing in his eyes.

"There are some things I can't tell you right now," Bruce said. "But I'm doing this to protect you—"

"To protect me?" Jack interrupted with a sneer, his expression grim. "You locked me up in a sealed room like this, windowless, you knocked me out and brought me back without asking for my opinion, and you tell me you're protecting me?"

Bruce looked at him calmly and said sincerely,

"It's also to protect others."

"What do you mean?" Jack's voice suddenly rose. He approached Bruce and grabbed him by the collar. "What do you mean? Do you see me as a threat?"

Jack's face was filled with anger. He stared at Bruce intently, demanding an explanation.

But Bruce's face remained impassive, as if nothing could break his composure.

This attitude drove Jack mad.

That face looked so abominable that it made him want to punch him—

and so he did.

In his rage, Jack had clearly forgotten the man's secondary identity and the vast difference in their abilities.

Bruce easily intercepted his fist, and the next second, he pinned him to the mattress.

"Let me go!" Jack roared and struggled. "Explain it to me!"

Bruce didn't let go, maintaining his grip on Jack, looking down at him. The distance between them was very close, and Bruce locked Jack's body to prevent him from moving.

Then, he grabbed Jack's bandaged hands and checked to see if there was any bleeding.

"I hope you can trust me for now. The situation is very complicated right now—" He put Jack's hands down and sighed. "I can't explain it to you, but I will find a way to figure it out as soon as possible."

He closed his eyes, pulled a small box from his pocket, and showed the contents to Jack.

"This is the candy you've been eating. I found some powdered medicine in it that might be for mental health problems."

Jack stared at him coldly, without any reaction.

"Someone is targeting you behind your back," Bruce explained. "They've mixed some illegal drugs into the candy and made you eat it every day so that they can control you."

"Really? If there was something wrong with the candy, I wouldn't have noticed if I ate it every day?" Jack sneered. "Why don't you just say someone drugs my water every day? Wouldn't that be more believable?"

Bruce looked at him with a complicated expression. He seemed about to say something, but swallowed it back.

"What's so charming about me? That someone would resort to such a time-consuming and laborious method against me?" Jack's chest heaved violently, his voice rising several decibels. "They could just use a bullet! Through my solar plexus—wouldn't it be easier with a pistol?"

Bruce finally let go of him and slowly stood up.

"Looks like I can't convince you for now." His tone was clearly fatigued. "You have a low-grade fever. The fever reducers are in the drawer of the nightstand. Remember to take them on time. I'll deliver your three meals a day on time."

With this, he quickly walked towards the door.

"Wait!"

Jack instinctively tried to grab him, but only met air.

"Bang!"

The door was locked again.

"Fuck!"

Jack cursed, his anger rising. He walked over and slammed the iron door.

"Bruce Wayne!" he yelled, "Get the hell back here, you're illegally imprisoning—"