"Before that, I want to ask you a question, Batman. Do you think you're special?" Schiller asked Batman with a smile.
"Everyone thinks they're special," Batman replied in a low voice. "Because people can only perceive themselves. To each person, this world contains only the self they can feel, and everyone else who appears in their life to play supporting roles."
"An interesting perspective," Schiller commented. "It seems you're quite interested in the cognitive school, but I'm not speaking from a cognitive standpoint. I mean in reality."
"Perhaps." Batman took a deep breath. The exhaustion from having just drained his strength loosened his tightly wound thoughts. It made the language center of his brain more active, so he was more talkative than usual.
"The richest man in the world is special wherever he goes. Gotham is no exception." Batman looked at the reflection of the tableware on the tabletop and spoke somewhat absentmindedly. Schiller raised an eyebrow and said, "I didn't expect the first identity you'd bring up to be the richest man in the world."
"Because every plan to rebuild Gotham swirling in my head revolves around one word—money." Batman let out the breath he had been holding, and it sounded like a soft sigh.
"Four years ago, you never would have imagined that one day, after finishing a life-and-death battle, you would sit in the final villain's room and discuss money with your Psychology Professor. And... you'd be short on money."
Batman covered his eyes with his armored gauntlet, then asked, "Why did you say you were Batman's victim? What did I do?"
Schiller picked up his utensils again and began cutting the food on his plate. "If you're curious about that question, then let's first discuss the broccoli. How did you and those two idiots break into