amaotonovel Chapter 4536 The Darkest Night (64)
Chapter 4536 The Darkest Night (64)
Chapter 4536 The Darkest Night (Sixty-Four)
"Not long after the cliff incident, I returned to England and told Dr. Sohip everything that had happened. I thought he would be shocked, but he was troubled by something else. He told me that he had been a member of a pen pal society, exchanging mysterious and obscure messages through correspondence. When I asked for details, the doctor was very evasive. Judging from his reaction to my story, this was definitely not his first time encountering such things. I think there really are people in this world who can see a more terrifying and dangerous side of the world that ordinary people cannot see."
What troubled the doctor was that fewer and fewer of the people corresponding with him were normal. Recently, some had even emailed him asking about such matters. This was truly insane, because you never know who might see the emails and thus be exposed to that taboo knowledge. These people were clearly reckless and shockingly audacious.
The content of their communications was becoming increasingly dangerous, seemingly involving a frantic search for information on this subject, with an air of relentless inquiry. This raised my concerns, because Gotham University Library is an unavoidable gateway for anyone seeking such information.
Since I left, Gotham University has had no new librarian. If these people were allowed to run rampant in the library, who knows what kind of trouble they'd cause. Dr. Soship had asked me to do the same. So, on a still damp, rainy night, I returned to my hometown. I returned to Gotham.”
The old wooden floorboards creaked gratingly. A dampness seeped in from the doorway. Jason, sitting behind the counter, looked up and saw a familiar face.
Good evening, Jason. I didn't expect you to be back.
“That’s what I should be saying.” Jason continued, looking down at the manuscript in his hands. His long, straight eyelashes cast deep shadows in the dim light, almost completely obscuring his eyes. “What are you doing here?”
"If I told you I came to visit you because I knew you were back, would you believe me?"
Jason chuckled softly and said, "You'd be a fool to believe that. So, what are you doing here?"
"What else would I be doing at the library?" The figure in front of me stepped into the light. She had a radiant face, but her eyes, though smiling, were clear. She leaned against the counter with a slightly languid air, lightly tapping the surface with her fingers. "I'm looking for a book, librarian."
“Okay, Harley.” Jason looked up with a hint of exasperation. Harley had already stepped over the counter and was so close that Jason could see every pore on her face. This startled him, and he kicked off his chair, stepping back more than a meter.
Harley laughed triumphantly, patted the counter, and said, "Go find me the book! Jason Todd!"
Jason sighed, slowly rose from his chair, and walked back to the counter. The poor diet in England hadn't hindered his growth; he was simply too tall and too strong. When he stood upright, he was like a towering wall, capable of enveloping anyone within it.
Harry instinctively took a step back, put her hands behind her back, looked up at him, her face radiating self-righteousness. Jason looked at her and said, "What book are you looking for?"
“I don’t know either,” Harley said, lowering her eyes. “I want the strangest book you have here.”
"The strangest book?"
"Yes, the kind of nonsense that no one ever borrows or wants to read. The crazier the better."
"Why are you looking for this kind of book?" Jason sat down again, looking at his unfinished draft and the first book that had already been published, and pondering the direction of the next part of the story.
"Never mind all that, great writer. Can't I just want to find some books to read for fun?"
“That’s not some trivial book,” Jason said calmly. “Go look it up on the shelf yourself. I don’t have time right now.”
"If I could find it myself, why would I bother you?" Harley persisted. "I only need one book. Please help me find it, okay?"
“I know what you’re up to,” Jason said. “A strange case has suddenly started circulating among your group, called the ‘Blood Tide.’ Something created a corpse that you find very beautiful, and you want to trace its origin. But I must warn you, it’s very dangerous.”
“You’ve not just heard,” Harley said, narrowing her eyes. “You must know something, Jason. You have a talent for it, but you’re always resisting it. Why can’t you be honest with yourself?”
“I am who I am,” Jason said. “I think I’m fine the way I am. And I have absolutely no desire to get involved in any mystery investigations. I…”
"boom!"
The gunshot rang out like a silver bottle shattering. Behind the glass window where Harley had been aiming her gun, a body slowly slumped in. She coldly lowered her weapon and said, "I'm afraid things won't go as you wish, sir. They've been watching this place for a while now."
Jason put down his pen and looked in that direction. The corpse that had fallen in was holding a powerful crossbow bolt, already loaded. A second later, it would have shot itself in the head.
Harley ignored the corpse. She simply turned to Jason and said, “Admit it, Jason Todd. You can go anywhere for a while and enjoy the different lives you’ve always dreamed of. But given the chance, you’ll always come back to Gotham because you belong here. You may be a benevolent savior, but you also enjoy the danger and thrill of dealing with evil. Don’t you?”
"After so long, when I saw Miss Quezel standing there again, I still saw too many bright and sinister colors in her. Gotham's darkness has never been dull and boring, but she was still a rare bright spot, like the rainbow on a blade, reflecting several kinds of madness unique to her from the source of darkness."
Am I as she describes me? I don't know. She's said it so many times that the last time we talked about it, I chose to avoid the topic. And the truth is, I've spent many nights in Oxford pondering this question.
Is Gotham truly a curse for me? Is there any fundamental difference between the person this city shaped me and those madmen I don't want to understand or associate with?
Admittedly, someone who truly seeks a peaceful life would never return at such a time. But is my sense of responsibility really just an excuse for seeking thrills? I believe she didn't mean it that way, and I shouldn't think of myself as so wicked. Yet, when a crazy adventure is thrown at me with a ticket, I still clutch that thin piece of paper tightly, letting myself walk towards the lottery machine.
Jason emerged from behind the counter. His tall figure moved through the densely packed bookshelves, seemingly wandering aimlessly, yet also appearing to have a destination in mind. Harley stood only outside the bookshelves, seemingly trusting the results he had provided.
After a while, Jason came out with a book in his hand, handed it to Harley, and said, "It might be this one, I can't be sure. But you can take a look."
What is this book about?
"I haven't seen it either."
"So how did you find it?"
“It’s all about gut feeling,” Jason said, tilting his head. “That’s why not just anyone can do this job.”
“Interesting,” Harley commented. Then she picked up the book and started reading. The library became very quiet, with only the faint sounds of turning pages and scribbling.
"Your intuition is pretty accurate," Harley laughed, closing the book. "I'm going to see a friend. Do you want to come with me?"
"Friend? Who?"
"An unnamed woman."
Schiller stood on the cliff, observing the movements of the corpses below. Some time had passed since the injection, but there was still no sign of anything. This could be considered good news, as it proved that the Black Death Emperor had made no progress on the Great Old Ones and, preoccupied with these undead, hadn't noticed anything unusual about them.
Jonathan hasn't said when it will take effect, but judging from his style, it shouldn't be too long, since the Fear Gas is instantaneous. The current silence likely indicates the Joker Virus is in full swing.
Sure enough, after waiting a few more minutes, Schiller noticed that the fingers of one of the old men's corpses trembled slightly. Then this trembling and twitching became common in all the corpses.
They didn't look like they had come back to life; rather, it looked like something was pulling them to move. The whole scene looked incredibly eerie, enough to terrify a large audience if it appeared on the set of a zombie movie.
After the convulsions stopped, there was no movement again. Schiller felt something was wrong. He went down to check the corpse's eye movements. If the eye movement frequency changed, then he had succeeded.
Just as he reached the middle of the corpses, a cold wind, accompanied by a whooshing sound, struck the back of his head. Schiller turned to dodge. A short-haired woman, wielding a dagger, charged at him. Schiller again pulled back. As she lunged forward, he struck her wrist with his umbrella. The dagger fell to the ground. The woman pressed forward again. Schiller retreated once more.
"I haven't offended you, have I?" Schiller asked.
"Damn it, what did you inject me with?!" The woman swayed in place, seemingly unable to control her limbs.
Schiller observed her state and then noticed something was amiss. This was the first time he had ever met someone like this—her mental state was completely different from her physical appearance.
Generally speaking, one's spiritual state is reflected in their outward appearance, which is the so-called "appearance reflects the heart." Here, "appearance" does not refer to physical features, but rather to a person's overall appearance and temperament.
How a person dresses and what kind of temperament they exude is closely related to their mental state. The woman in front of Schiller was clearly a professional assassin, highly skilled and decisive. Her appearance leaned towards gothic, which shouldn't be out of place, but there was just an awkward incongruity.
"Are you a superhuman?" Schiller asked. But he was almost certain of this guess; without shapeshifting abilities, it wouldn't seem so abrupt.
The woman suddenly knelt on the ground and began to retch, the gasps in her throat turning into maniacal laughter. Schiller hadn't expected there to be a living person among the corpses. He should have asked Jonathan for the antidote.
While there's no antidote, it's not entirely hopeless. Schiller walked over, grabbed the woman's wrist, and began using the gray mist to clear the clown virus from her body. This wasn't out of kindness; injecting this stuff into a dead person was a gamble, but injecting it into a living person was somewhat inhumane. If it actually created a clown, that would be a real problem.
The clown virus is quite unique; no one can say it can be completely eradicated. Schiller did his best to remove the clown virus solution injected into her body. The woman let out a long sigh and slumped to the ground.
"So what exactly is going on? Who are you?"
The woman looked up: "Jane Doe."