The Long Easter (9)

On a windless, cold night in Gotham, the air around the cathedral seemed to have frozen into a block of transparent ice. The icy moonlight shone through the windows at the top onto the Jesus statue, casting a long cross shape across the cold-colored floor tiles.

In the middle of the cross is a huge crack in the old church floor, a crack that resembles an Abyss, splitting the Shade of the crucified Jesus.

A faint light shone through the crack, as if something was floating faintly underneath, and in the two directions the cross on the ground pointed, there were two different figures.

The Batman on the left has a serious expression and tense muscles. Although he is still standing very straight, you can tell that he is ready to go.

Standing opposite him was Evans, who was kneeling on the ground with his head down. In the dim moonlight, his expression was not visible.

In mid-air, thin, veil-like clouds drifted past the moon, and the moonlight projected through the window flickered like plucked strings on a musical instrument.

A shadow fell over Batman, and the blue pupils in his eyes, visible through his mask, transformed into hands of varying lengths. As the moonlight dimmed again, the hour hand moved backward more than half a circle, and everything returned to ten hours earlier.

Cobblepot stood in front of the cabinet in the old house, watching his mother rummage through a pile of dusty old things. Cobblepot walked to his mother's side, wanting to take her arm and help her to her feet.

Mrs. Cobblepot waved her arm and pushed her son away. Cobblepot was a little helpless. He asked, "Mom, what are you looking for? We've already searched every cupboard in the house."

Behind Cobblepot was a junkyard, not only in the center of the living room but also at the bedroom doorway.

"I need an umbrella! It's raining, I need an umbrella..."

Cobblepot took the umbrella from the chair next to him and handed it to his mother, but Mrs. Cobblepot acted as if she didn't see it and continued to rummage through the bottom cabinet.

They searched from dusk till dawn, and from dawn till dusk again, until Mrs. Cobblepot was exhausted and went back to rest. Only then did Cobblepot have time to tidy up these old things.

In recent days, Mrs. Cobblepot's condition has improved, and she is less aggressive. However, she has become increasingly eccentric, rummaging through the house every day to collect clutter. Cobblepot cannot stop her and can only help her clean up.

He knelt on the ground, supporting his body with one knee, and then picked up the surrounding clutter and put it back in the cabinet.

The cabinet below the bookshelf mostly contains the collection of Old Man Cobblepot, such as picture frames and candlesticks. These items are not valuable, but when Mrs. Cobblepot is lucid, she will take them out and wipe them clean as a way of remembering Cobblepot father.

Cobblepot wanted to put the last picture frame back on the top shelf of the cabinet, but when he tried to put it in, he found that something was blocking it, preventing the frame from being fully retracted and the cabinet door from closing.

Cobblepot thought the things he had put in earlier were not aligned, so he reached in to straighten them, only to find an envelope-like object deep inside the cabinet.

Cobblepot took the envelope out and noticed a lot of dust on the back. Using the dim light of the living room, he wiped the dust away with his finger and discovered a line of beautiful cursive writing. "To Cobblepot..."

Cobblepot frowned. He was certain he had never received a letter like this before, nor would anyone send such a formal letter to a down-on-his-luck poor boy.

The envelope was made of very fine woodfree paper, and the English lettering on it was clear without any ink smudging.

Cobblepot turned the letter over and found that the wax seal had been broken. The stamp on the wax seal looked familiar to Cobblepot.

He opened the envelope and took out the letter inside, where he saw a familiar signature: "Carmine Falcone".

This is an invitation from the Old Godfather.

The text above is very brief; it's an invitation for Cobblepot to attend a funeral. The letter was written by Carmine Falcone, and the funeral will be held at Gotham Cathedral.

Cobblepot glanced at the invitation and found that it was indeed the Old Godfather's handwriting. But what was unusual was that below the main text of the funeral invitation, there was a line of small print. "Please be sure to attend, or I will personally greet you."

Cobblepot squinted; he hadn't forgotten his father, who had died attending his godfather's eldest son's funeral in the rain.

But the invitation made him feel very strange.

It is rare for someone to write such a formal invitation for a funeral, let alone for the deceased's biological father.

Cobblepot had seen the Old Godfather's handwriting before, and he could tell that on this invitation, Falcone's handwriting was very steady and the strokes were smooth, not at all like that of an old man who had just lost his eldest son.

Moreover, the small print was even more puzzling. It was clearly a threat. Who would force someone to attend a funeral?

Cobblepot vaguely remembers that the day after his father returned from the funeral, he developed a high fever. He was burning up, delirious, and lying in bed, unable to even utter a complete sentence.

The Doctor said it was pneumonia, but he died before he could be taken to the hospital. Cobblepot didn't receive any last words from his father, so he naturally didn't know about the funeral he attended.

But this invitation filled Cobblepot with skepticism.

He recalled his conversation with Evans. Cobblepot was a man who was very good at using words to persuade people and then extract information. During his conversation with Evans, he had also tried to subtly inquire about the Godfather's mysterious eldest son, but he did not get any useful information from Evans.

Cobblepot squatted in front of the cabinet and began to deduce. Based on the available information, he deduced that Evans should have been born before Albertos died. Although the age difference between the two was unclear, Alberto and Evans should have lived together for a period of time.

What puzzled Cobblepot was that Evans' descriptions of his older brother were always very abstract and contradictory in many ways. For example, he mentioned that Alberto was a very hardworking and ambitious person, as well as a genius with outstanding talent, who was simply a natural successor. However, he also always said that Alberto was frustrated because he could not complete the Godfather's tasks. In Evans' descriptions, the most frequently mentioned topic was the argument between Alberto and the Godfather.

The invitation he accidentally found at home rekindled Cobblepot's doubts about his father's death. With these doubts in mind, when he returned to his ward at Arkham Asylum, he began to guide Evans to recall more information during casual conversation.

"You said last time you wanted to join the university basketball team. You've been playing basketball since you were little, right? Seriously..."

Cobblepot, lying on the hospital bed, shifted his position and said with longing, "I envy families with many children like yours. Brothers are natural playmates. The brothers who live on the corner of my street are like that. I often see them playing soccer in the alley. Your brother must have played basketball with you too, right?"

"He..." Evans instinctively wanted to answer, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. Evans sat on the edge of the bed, stunned. Cobblepot asked him, "What's wrong?"

"No, it's nothing..." Evans shook his head and said, "It's just that I can't quite remember. I clearly remember that my brother and I were very close, and we should have played together, but when I think about it carefully, I can't remember anything."

"I'm sorry, I'm being a bit presumptuous, but yesterday I found an invitation at home. It was from the Godfather inviting my father to your brother's funeral. You should have attended your brother's funeral, right?"

"Funeral?" Evans muttered the word, then sat blankly on the edge of the bed, not answering. After a long while, he said, "I think... I'm sorry, but my childhood memories are not clear. I don't remember what happened at all."

Evans sighed and said, "I've been in a bad mood lately and I've been having a lot of dreams, which may be affecting my memory."

"I can't go into the church in Gotham right now, so I can't pray, which is making me feel frustrated. I also haven't seen the Old Priest in a long time; I used to enjoy talking to him."

Evans looked very upset, Cobblepot said to him, "Why don't you try writing to him?"

Evans shook his head and said, "Gotham's cathedral is in bad shape. There's a huge hole in the ground. It will take a long time to repair, and the work will be a bit dangerous. The Old Priest has moved away, and I don't know where he lives now."

"But you're the Godfather's son. If someone were to inquire, they should be able to find out, right?"

Evans thought for a moment and said, "Actually, I don't really want to bother that priest, after all, he rarely has a vacation."

"But he must feel lonely not being able to preach to his parishioners during such an important holiday as Easter, right? If you two had a good relationship before, you might as well go and keep him company."

Evans thought for a moment and said, "What you said makes sense. I'll have someone look for him. If we can find him, I can invite him to Falcone Estate for Easter."

"Your relationship with the Godfather..."

"It's not as bad as you think," Evans sighed again. "The Godfather isn't worried about my ambition; he's more worried about my lack of ambition."

"But I don't know why, when I'm with him, especially when we're having a serious talk, I always feel a bit anxious. It's like I desperately want to say something to him, but I can't say it."

"When I'm with him, I always act very extreme, even though I'm not like that when I'm with my classmates and teachers."

"Before I was admitted to the hospital, the situation was getting worse and worse. Several times, we almost got into a fight. I suspected that I might have a psychological problem, so I went to see Professor Schiller."

"So, you came here?"

Evans nodded, then said, "Now it seems I might not be sick, I just overthink things and have poor emotional control."

"If medical means can't relieve your emotions, you can also try turning to your faith," Cobblepot told Evans. "Although I'm not a believer, if you're a devout believer, perhaps everything will be alright on Easter Day?"

"I hope so."

As the moonlight outside the window deepened, Cobblepot heard Evans praying softly, a sound that echoed in the empty ward, making one drowsy.