Chapter 38: The Doctors All Say I Am Perfectly Normal

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"You lunatic, I thought you were holding hostages." Roland tossed the Mad Hatter’s corpse to the ground. "Threatening me with your own life? You’re quite the character."

"What is he..." The people who had been blocking the way were freed from the Mad Hatter’s control. Batman quickly disentangled himself and rushed over, only to freeze at the sight of the body. "...Did you kill him?"

"No, this was a suicide out of fear of punishment," Roland said, lying through his teeth. "He saw me coming, realized he couldn't escape, and took his own life."

Batman crouched down to examine the Mad Hatter’s state. "Are you saying he twisted his own head around?"

"Yes," Roland said firmly.

"...I hope the Gotham City Police Department believes your story."

"If I told them you were the one who finished him off, do you think they’d believe that?"

"Perhaps." Batman didn't seem to care; his no-kill code was a restriction he placed upon himself. As for what others believed, it was irrelevant.

Strictly speaking, he did bear some responsibility for the Mad Hatter's death. He had asked Roland to handle the situation; how could he not have anticipated that Roland might kill him? But compared to the lives of those the Hatter had been controlling, it was the lesser of two evils.

Lost in thought, Batman wondered: did this count as having taken a step toward that dark path?

"What's wrong with you?" Roland sensed something off about Batman’s demeanor. "You don't actually think you've found an excuse to bypass your no-kill rule, do you?"

"Do you think so too?"

"No. I intended to take him alive; killing him was just a spur-of-the-moment decision. How could you have known that beforehand?" Roland corrected him. He was genuinely worried about Batman's mental state—if this guy turned dark because of this, Gotham would be in serious trouble.

"Fair enough," Batman said flatly.

***

A while later, the Gotham City police arrived fashionably late. Roland pinned the killing of the Mad Hatter on Batman, and the arriving Police Commissioner immediately flew into a rage, pontificating to the reporters about making the "murderer" pay.

"Tetch had a heart as precious as gold! He cared for his family, always putting their needs first, meticulously tending to every corner of his home—he was a good son! Moreover, he was incredibly warm-hearted toward the community, always ready to help others and actively participating in neighborhood activities, bringing warmth and joy to everyone. I believe he did not deserve to be treated this way!"

"Indeed, this is a disgrace to Gotham City, and a disgrace to our police department! We cannot allow a murderer to remain at large any longer! It is time for us to take action!"

"Is he talking about the Mad Hatter? If I didn't know better, I’d think Jesus had been killed by Batman," Roland remarked, watching Commissioner Gillian B. Loeb’s televised speech with a click of his tongue. "Good grief, he’s making even me start to believe it."

"Is it appropriate to set Batman up like that?" Jason asked. He had been shocked when he learned Roland had killed the Hatter, but upon reflection, he felt it didn't matter much; the Hatter had killed many people and had been long overdue for justice.

It was only because Gotham was so excellent at protecting high-risk, mentally ill patients that he always ended up in Arkham Asylum instead of facing a firing squad.

However, Batman had been framed this time. Commissioner Loeb had exploited the situation, and the major media outlets in Gotham were now treating Batman as a public enemy.

"Tch, who knew this Police Commissioner was so shameless, spewing lies with a straight face," Roland said, displeased. "I really need to keep him on a tighter leash."

"What are you planning?" Jason asked, startled. "You aren't actually going to go after the Police Commissioner, are you?"

"Not me—us," Roland replied. "Gotham is in such a mess, and as Commissioner, he’s responsible. If we don’t get him out, the city will only become more unstable! For the sake of the citizens, we must take care of Loeb!"

"...Is that your own line?" Jason rolled his eyes at the righteous-looking Roland. "Stop pretending with me, just tell me the truth."

"...Once Loeb is gone, Commissioner Gordon can take his place, and then we’ll have the police force in our pocket."

"Good plan!" Jason praised. "But how do we get rid of Loeb?"

"You don't need to worry about that; I’ll dig up his dirt," Roland said. With his Kamaitachi-like abilities, eavesdropping on private matters was simple. Once he had the evidence, he could coordinate with Gordon to catch him in the act, have Harvey prosecute him, and then Gotham would essentially be theirs to run.

Of course, the three of them—including Batman—all agreed that they would never break their rules or become as corrupt as the evils they fought.

Roland paused to consider the status of the Maroni family, just to ensure that Harvey Dent wouldn't end up with sulfuric acid thrown in his face by Sal Maroni, turning him into Two-Face.

***

Roland felt that Harvey’s mental state was currently quite stable. He worked at the District Attorney's office and was home by 8:00 PM at the latest. He rarely smoked and only sipped alcohol. He slept at 11:00 PM, ensuring a full eight hours of rest. He drank a glass of warm milk before bed, did twenty minutes of soothing stretches, and slept soundly until dawn. He was like a baby, never carrying fatigue or stress into the next day. Even his therapist, Griselda, said he was perfectly normal.

In a certain psychological clinic:

Harvey sat on the sofa with a cold, haughty, and majestic posture, his hand rhythmically flipping a coin.

"When you were very young, you harbored a fear of negative emotions. This fear wasn't just about your father's violence, but also the anger, extremism, and violence within yourself. By suppressing it, an evil personality has emerged in your heart."

"You need to relax more and vent appropriately, otherwise..."

"I understand." Harvey's expression flickered, his fists clenching and unclenching. "Thank you, Doctor."

"Actually, you should learn to trust those around you more," the doctor suggested. "Griselda is a better psychologist than I am, and I think you..."

"No, Doctor!" Harvey interrupted, standing up and walking toward the door, turning half of his face toward the doctor.

His expression was twisted. "I... I don't want her to see me."

"Alright then..." The psychologist sighed. "In that case, come see me more often when you have time."

"Very well," Harvey agreed before turning to leave.

A red-haired woman happened to walk in just as he left. She froze for a moment upon seeing him, then lowered her head.

Preoccupied, Harvey didn't pay attention to the passerby and walked straight out.

The red-haired woman entered the office and said to the psychologist, "Excuse me, I have a friend..."