Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics

Shiller's fingertips paused ever so slightly. He looked at Brad and said, "It seems you've investigated me but came up empty. I personally think I'm a nobody, but if you consider me important, it proves that whatever I'm doing is affecting your plans, even significantly so."

"I haven't done much since my arrival here. All I did was cause the city government to shut down, bring about the downfall of the Charabang Family, spread rumors of the death game around the world, turn most of Gotham's wealthy into fugitives, lead to the resignation of the police chief, and plunge the Lower city area into chaos."

"Though it's a minor effort, it has yielded good results. If this chaos has disturbed you, then I am sorry. But since you didn't intervene to stop this midway, you only have yourself to blame for the outcome."

"If you intend to persuade me to give up on something now, I can only tell you that the accelerator is no longer under my foot. If you want the car to stop, you should carefully consider who is the one fueling the engine now."

Brad was somewhat at a loss for words at this straightforward speech. But Shiller didn't intend to let him off, he straightforwardly said:

"Do you think I'm the primary culprit causing the chaos and that, without me, the city could still maintain peace?"

"I don't want to accuse you with harsh words. I just want to tell you that your so-called maintenance of peace only preserves the peace of the Upper Class. The chaos I incite is the choice of most of the ordinary people in this city."

"If you continue to stand by the wealthy, naturally there will be those who oppose you. But if you realize that false peace is nothing but a cover for oppression, then perhaps you can use your little magic tricks to do something for the common people. They would appreciate it."

Brad put down his glass and said, "I do not get involved in the affairs of Human Society."

"Then it seems you don't intend to stop me, well and good." Shiller nodded and said, "I was worried that you'd use your magic to tip the scales. It's best if you choose to stand aside."

Brad choked on his response.

"Regarding the capsules, all I can tell you is that I've indeed dealt with some entities and obtained something from them. I won't misuse these things, but you're in no position to plead for mercy from me."

"It's dangerous," Brad said patiently. "I don't know who you're dealing with, but they definitely have ulterior motives. While it may seem like a convenient method that can't be cracked, the price you have to pay for it could be unimaginable, possibly even beyond Death."

"Can you save me?"

"It depends on who you're contracted with," Brad said earnestly. "If I recognize them, I might be able to intercede for you."

"Who do you think it is?"

"This power feels alien to me; I can't be certain, that's why I invited you here. Can I see the capsule?"

Shiller did not refuse, taking out a red wine capsule from his bosom and handing it to Brad.

Brad examined the capsule for a long time, his expression growing increasingly solemn. After a while, he placed the capsule on the coffee table and said, "I'm sorry, but this power feels foreign to me. I don't seem to recognize the owner of this power. I might not be able to help you."

"Then is our conversation over?"

"Of course not. What I mean to say is, stop using this power, especially on ordinary people. It's not good for anyone."

Brad stood up slowly and then said, "I've seen many who claim to have made deals with Devils to save others, but that's a false premise. Devils won't help you save people; it's all just a scam."

"Which of your eyes saw me trying to save people?" Shiller asked, somewhat baffled. "Have those who took the capsules seen all their diseases cured?"

Brad opened his mouth but ended up saying, "Using it to kill is even worse. Devil's power will amplify the evil in your heart and one day it will become unmanageable."

"So everyone who took the capsules is dead?" Shiller asked again. "Where are their corpses? Can you show them to me?"

Brad was left without words again because indeed, those who had taken the capsules weren't dead but merely unconscious.

Shiller looked up at him and said, "Your sermon might be cliché, but I'll take it as you looking out for me. Anything else?"

Brad, holding his glass, watched him helplessly.

Shiller also rose from the sofa, fastened the buttons of his suit, and then said, "Before you preach to me, you should make clear your own stance. If you are of the Human race, think about whose side you really want to be on. If you're not, consider the reason you're interfering with the Human race's own choices."

Brad was briefly stunned. Shiller shook his head and said, "I really don't get it with you people, so good at long-winded speeches with no central idea; you think you're thoughtful, but always act before thinking; seemingly profound but can't even comprehend the most fundamental issues."

He looked up at the room's decor, said, "You owe an apology to the designer. I suggest you elevate your level of thought to match a house that appears so scholarly. If you're really pressed for time, you could give the house to me."

After Shiller left, Brad stood still and contemplated for a while. Then he put down his glass, extinguished the flames in the fireplace, and when he stepped out the door, he wasn't on the alleyway of Bourbon Street but before the door of a church.

He walked into the church. A tall man, dressed as a janitor and handling a broom, was sweeping the floor. When he turned around, his eyes looked desolate, akin to a dying man.

Brad walked over and sat in the first row of pews. The tall man put the broom aside and came over to sit as well.

"Paul, do you think I'm meddling too much?"

The tall man known as Paul tilted his head in confusion and looked at Brad, "What's wrong, Father?"

"I just met a very strange person," Brad said. "He told me that I shouldn't meddle in the affairs of human society. Do you think that's true?"

"You just want to make this city a more peaceful place," Paul shook his head.

"But what if chaos is what people choose for themselves?"

"Then you should educate them," Paul said after a moment's thought. "Isn't that what a priest does?"

"What should I teach them?" Brad leaned back in his chair, staring at the huge cross at the center of the church. "To be quiet, to endure, to obey God's will... until they die?"

"Of course, that's how it should be," Paul said. "If everyone could listen to God, there would be no wars and no death. Isn't that a good thing?"

"What if some don't listen?" Brad turned his head to look at Paul, "Have you watched the news? Have you heard about the Death Games? It's a level of evil that would shock Devils."

Paul stroked his own hair, "I've been in the hospital for some time and haven't heard of any evil things. But I think if someone is doing that, then you should go and educate them to be quiet."

Brad let out a long sigh. Looking at Paul, he asked, "How are you feeling? Are the chemotherapy effects still bad?"

Paul gave a pale smile, "Cancer is incurable to begin with, everything is just a delay. But it's good to live a few extra days."

Brad suddenly thought of Shiller's focus on the Audine Company today. He asked subconsciously, "Which brand of medical equipment did the hospital use for your tests?"

Paul was startled, then shook his head, "I don't know. I'm not well educated; I don't understand these things."

"You don't need an education for that, Paul. Next time you go for a check, take a look at the label on the machine. If you can't remember the words, then remember the pattern and draw it for me when you come back."

"Alright, if you need it, I'll try my best."

Brad left the church deep in thought. Paul watched his figure, silent for a while.

Soon, new visitors arrived at the church. A man dressed in a suit, exuding an elite vibe, walked in. He seemed to have met Paul before, and as soon as he entered, he said directly, "I hear your health is getting worse. Have you thought it through?"

Paul cast his eyes down, seemingly in thought. The man grew impatient, "Only we have the capacity to provide you with the best medical care to keep you alive. And all you need to do is put on a little act with those criminals. If you miss this chance, all you can do is wait for death."

Paul gripped the broom tightly, "I can agree to your terms, but I won't commit crimes."

"Don't worry, we're not asking you to commit crimes, but rather to become a police officer. Alright, big guy, I'll come pick you up tomorrow at this time to take your measurements. Once the uniform is tailored, you'll replace that damn Batman and become Gotham's new hero."

"I don't want to be a hero; I just want to stay alive."

After the man left, Paul stood under the cross until another figure appeared behind the cross.

A woman flipped down from the cross. Paul stared at her fixedly. When she removed her hood, revealing a face nearly hideous from chemical burns, Paul seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

"They really came to me. They said they would help me to continue living, and they'd provide me with a uniform and weapons to fight Batman."

"I told you I didn't lie to you," the woman's hoarse voice echoed in the church. "You are the last descendent of the Vare family. Batman stole everything from your family. Now is your best chance for revenge."

"Yes..." Paul murmured, "I will take back everything I've lost."

He turned back, his resolute face divided into two starkly different shades by the towering cross's shadow—one side light, the other dark.

"Sorry, God. I meant to be an Angel... but I'm dying." His soft murmur faded into another night in Gotham.

Leaving the church, Brad took out his mobile phone. He didn't dial any number; he just pressed the call button.

"Hello, it's me, the priest who invited you during the day. I think what you said makes a lot of sense; maybe we could talk again?"

Shiller, who was frustrated with his research, roared into the phone, "Talk, talk, talk! Was everything I said today wasted?!"

"No, it's just that I've been thinking about what you said..."

With a "Snap", Shiller hung up the phone, unable to help complaining, "Annoying! Why doesn't anyone understand plain language here?!"

Soon, the phone rang again. It was still Brad's voice when Shiller picked up. Shiller didn't listen to what he had to say, but roared into the phone.

"I'll repeat it one last time—give me the house!"