The West Coast night was hazy and dreamlike, unlike the bustling, fast-paced East Coast. The dim sunset vanished among the blurred, delicate branches, while the lights and shadows of the steel jungle stretched at an incredible speed. Beneath the bar lights, the shadow of a wineglass was as long as an intercontinental railway.
When a slender hand set down the glass, it carried a hint of anger. Lucifer put down his phone with his other hand, furrowed his brow deeply, then picked up the glass again and drained the little wine that remained.
"What's wrong with Schiller?" he asked in confusion. "He was rambling, then suddenly hung up on me..."
Leaning against the bar, Lucifer lightly tapped the counter with his fingers. He raised his head as though looking at something nonexistent in the air. Several seconds later, his eyes slowly widened.
"What is going on?!" Lucifer sounded even more astonished.
"Why is Schiller still... Oh, wait, what's this now? Damn, so that day was only the beginning? Are those two sick? How could they..."
"Good Lord! Batman! What have you done? You screwed up Schiller's exam and even sent him to prison? That's way too much!"
"Hey, wait, so it was Schiller's other personality?"
"Oh, so Batman figured it out... Right, Schiller always used to tell me that communication was the best way to solve problems..."
"Wait a minute, why was Schiller sent back again? What the hell is Batman doing..."
Lucifer's expression changed several times before finally settling into deep confusion.
It was hardly Lucifer's fault. Most people would indeed have found it difficult to make sense of this whole series of moves between Schiller and Batman.
In truth, Lucifer was not particularly controlling. He had few friends he truly recognized, and he did everything he could to