Smile (Part 1)

Several spotlights shone on Batman, making him squint, looking like a bat that had been sleeping in a dark cave but was awakened by an explorer's flashlight.

"I advise you not to make a move now." Schiller turned to look at Batman, but saw no expression on his face. He was no longer the Bruce who had just debuted. It was almost impossible to tell what he was thinking from his outward appearance.

"Why?" Batman's voice remained low.

Schiller turned back to the stage, the spotlight sweeping over him and making his glasses gleam. He said, "You'll have to be patient. The show is just beginning."

"I don't think there's anything worth watching." Batman remained unmoved, his expression serious. "Even if he moved the kidnapping to a theater, it's still just a crime. He's a madman."

"He is indeed a madman, but different from other madmen."

What's different about madmen?

"Then why are you sitting here instead of rushing down to stop him? Although I advised you, I couldn't stop you, and I couldn't stop you either."

Batman remained silent.

"Because he piqued your interest, because you were also wondering how the play would begin."

"Because the owl is your enemy, perhaps your indulgence is tinged with a sense of vengeful pleasure."

Just as Batman was about to deny it, Schiller said, "It's certainly interesting to see these actors suffer, but if you still think of him as just an ordinary madman, then you're the one who's going to suffer."

Batman's brow furrowed deeper, but the audience on stage drew their attention back to him. The Joker, holding the small iron rod he used to strike the triangle, held it to the mouth of a bound, obese man and said, "Alright, you choose an audience member and have him read the clues on the ticket to you."

"I, I..." The fat man was covered in sweat. After being suspended in mid-air by the rope for so long, he was exhausted. The Joker pouted, and suddenly, he straightened his body, then tucked the hair on both sides behind his ears, revealing his eyes.

He deliberately kicked his leg forward and took a step, as if marching in formation, until he reached another man next to him. He then took off the glasses the man was wearing and put them on his own face.

He held the small iron rod to his lips, as if holding a microphone, cleared his throat, and said, "Next up is an in-depth analysis from Jack, the world's most professional psychology expert."

Schiller in the audience narrowed his eyes, Evans instinctively moved to the side of the aisle, seemingly wanting to get away from his professor.

"You're making a complete fool of yourselves, buddy." The Joker walked over to the fat man and said, "Your arrogance is all built on a safe environment. You stand in a safe conference room, dressed in suits, using the wealth accumulated by your ancestors as capital, thinking you control everything, indulging in the thrill of being the Black Hand behind everything."

"But when your supposedly unbreakable great beliefs are put into practice, they turn into heartache over the loss of vested interests. In fact, you are no different from ordinary people who would feel heartbroken for a whole night if they lost five dollars."

"All great goals eventually turn into nothing more than the most mundane regrets and heartaches, and when you truly become like ordinary people, you lose everything."

"After that, what else is there? A fat, bloated body? A soul devoid of originality?"

"As actors, you are such failures that you can't even put on a good show on your own."

"What are you thinking? I know, I know everything. It's so difficult to beg for mercy from a madman..."

The fat man made grunting noises, his face turning bright red.

Just like the Joker said, even the most self-proclaimed mastermind Black Hand, suspended on stage by a rope, with everyone watching his ugly antics, cannot remain calm and collected.

"Since you don't want to choose, then I'll choose for you." The Joker pushed up his glasses and said, "I'm sure our Professor Rodriguez has been waiting for a long time."

The obese man seemed to choke suddenly, squeezing out a few words through gritted teeth. "No! No... this is against the rules..."

"Shut up!" The Joker suddenly went berserk again, frantically slapping the fat man's face with the small iron rod, rendering him unable to utter a word in rebuttal.

The obese man seemed afraid that he would do something drastic again, so he mumbled something and remained silent.

Schiller stood up from his chair and said, "It's an honor to be the first, but before that, I have a better suggestion for this game. Would you like to hear it?"

The Joker squinted at him, and everyone could feel the tense atmosphere on the field, as if an invisible battle had begun, with two madmen clashing over intruding on each other's territory.

"A better suggestion?" the Joker emphasized, grinning as he said, "You better make sure it's good, or I'll take it as a forfeit..."

"Of course, this gentleman wants me to give him a clue, but he can't just leave me with nothing. I'd like to add a rule that if they want the clue, they have to grant a request from the audience."

After a few seconds of stunned silence, the Joker burst into maniacal laughter and exclaimed, "Oh, you're a genius!"

Suddenly, his face darkened, and he said, "Do you think I would say that? What a terrible idea!"

Schiller interrupted him, saying, "Alright, then I take back that suggestion. I only have one question: may I lie?"

The Joker stared straight at him, his lips curling downwards in a vicious smirk, and muttered under his breath, "I told you, I hate this name."

"Why don't you let this gentleman decide whether to grant my request and obtain the real clues, or to do nothing and risk receiving a lie?"

"Say yes! Haru!" a shrill female voice rang out as a woman hanging higher up shouted, "Say yes to his demands! Do you want us all to get false answers? We'll die!"

Another male voice chimed in, "That's right, we choose the first one!"

Schiller patted the back of the chair in front of him, making a slight noise, and said, "I'm letting this gentleman choose."

"He's just a low-ranking member of parliament; he represents nothing..."

"Yes, that's right!"

"How can such an important decision be made by a low-ranking member of parliament?"

"We should vote, and the votes should be distributed according to rank..."

"Only senior councilors can make decisions, don't forget that..."

"You old geezers! Even at a time like this, you're still thinking about..."

The Joker's shoulders suddenly began to shrug, and his laughter changed from a low chuckle to a loud laugh. After a while, as if he had laughed until he was tired, he wiped his eyes and said, "This is really... kind of interesting."

Haru trembled, his fat lips twitched, and he uttered a few words, saying, "I choose... I choose the first one. I can grant him one request. Please tell me the truth!"

Before the Joker could even begin, Schiller took his own turn, saying, "Alright, my request is—remove the mask, sir."

"No! No... I can't..." Haru cried out in terror, his eyes constantly glancing at Falcone.

"I regret it!!! I want to choose the second one..."

"You won't get another chance," the Joker said with a grin. "You already said you'd agree to his request."

As he spoke, he ripped off the fat man's mask, revealing a large, fat head and ears underneath.

"Wild Boar Harris." Falcone smiled, clearly recognizing him. "Didn't your father Bruno teach you? If you put on a mask, never take it off."

Haru was ashen-faced. His true identity had been exposed, and not only him, but his family, his power, and his wealth would all never see the light of day again.

The mask is not afraid of the Godfather, but the person beneath it is. The mask will not die, but the person beneath it will.

The people who had been arguing on stage fell silent. The Joker then strode to the center of the stage, opened his arms, tilted his head, and asked them, "Why are you all so serious? He chose the result you wanted, why don't you smile happily?"

"Mr. Jack, may I reveal the answer now?" Schiller was like a ruthless NPC going through the motions.

The Joker looked disappointed, like a child, and said, "What a pity, I should have included an interview segment here. I wanted to play a little longer."

Ignoring his reaction, Schiller picked up the crumpled piece of paper, unfolded it, and read aloud, "Artemis is more beautiful than Athena..."

It was obvious to the naked eye that the group of people hanging on the stage were stunned for a moment, and then fell silent, each with their own thoughts.

The Joker tapped his triangle and shouted, "Alright, that's all over. Next! Next! You'd better sit down, it's none of your business..."

Schiller readily agreed and sat down. Batman said to him, "You're a real devil."

"Likewise."

Then, the Joker walked up to a tall, thin man and slammed the triangular iron into his ear, making the man shake his body frantically, trying to get away from the madman.

"It's your turn, who do you want to choose?"

"I choose... I choose Little Falcone!"

The Joker first smirked sharply downwards, then twitched the muscles around his nose, revealing a somewhat fierce expression, before laughing again.

"Then, please welcome Evans Falcone!"

He waved his arm, and a spotlight shone on Evans. Schiller, standing beside him, slapped the back of his chair and shouted, "I protest! Why is he introduced by a host? And why is he followed by lights? This is discrimination! We all bought tickets; we paid the same amount of money!"

"Protest invalid."

The Joker then turned his gaze to Evans, Evans paused, seemingly surprised that someone had chosen him. Three minutes into the play, he already couldn't understand what was going on, and now he was busy unpacking crumpled paper from the popcorn bucket, trying to piece it back together into a complete sheet...

Suddenly, he twitched, a somber expression creeping onto his face. He stood up and said, "First of all, my name is not Evans."

He gave a sinister smile and said to the tall, thin man, "Secondly, you can make another choice: option one or option two?"

"I choose two! I choose two! It's his turn to give the answer!"

Alberto's cold voice rang out. "The answer is that the button in your hand corresponds to that fat man."

When Alberto uttered those words and they landed on the ground, the entire arena fell silent; no one had expected this answer.

The answer Schiller had given earlier was like a mythical riddle, full of incomprehensible metaphors, and even for the people of Gotham, it was a bit premature. But the answer Alberto gave the next second was so straightforward.

It's like a problem where the first sub-question asks you to find the general solution to a calculus equation, and the second sub-question asks you what you ate for breakfast.

"Wait!" said the tall, thin man who was hanging there. "You're lying. This doesn't match the first answer at all..."

"Because you chose number two, it might actually be a lie," Alberto said with a shrug.

But the tall, thin man heard his companions begin to whisper among themselves.

"Haru is too heavy. He's very close to the ground. Even if the rope is lowered slowly, his belly will definitely hit the ground sooner than the others..."

"Yes, and this madman might have written several answers in completely different styles, so maybe that person wasn't lying..."

"Anyway, Haru won't live much longer. Falcone knows his true identity, he's doomed!"

"Whether he dies sooner or later, he's going to die anyway..."

"Then let's press it..."

"Press it..."

"Why not?"