Another Transmigration

If Schiller had to write a psychological profile of Batman from the comics, his defining trait would not be caution, intelligence, or strategic brilliance, but suspicion.

Batman never fully trusted anyone.

His skepticism had become a school of thought unto itself. Skepticism and conspiracy theories were carved into his bones. The smarter he was, the more suspicious he became.

Schiller's answer had clearly plunged this young Batman into profound doubt.

Bruce had never imagined that someone could see through his heart. He had immense confidence in his disguise. Even Alfred, the old butler who had raised him since childhood, only understood part of him, never all of him.

Yet this professor, this refined Psychology Professor who looked like an utterly ordinary man, had given him the most impossible answer—and also the most accurate, most piercing one.

The moment he received that answer, the surging heat in Bruce's heart told him that he really had been waiting for someone to give it to him—it was time to begin his revenge.

But compared to the answer itself, the person who had given it was like a basin of cold water poured over his newly ignited bloodlust for revenge. Bruce did not believe it. He had never believed that someone could see the demon lurking in his heart, that swarm of shadowy bats, through psychology alone.

But Schiller said, "Consultation time is over. I have class to teach. Goodbye, Mr. Wayne."

Schiller believed Bruce would definitely agonize over it for quite a while.

Once Bruce figured it out, he should hurry up and become Batman to uphold justice. Why was he still attending classes? What classes did Bruce even have left to take? Why insist on making things difficult for this group of hardworking faculty members?

Schiller figured he would probably come around. By then, those gangs and criminal organizations would be enough to give him headaches. That way, Schiller could stay curled up at school and happily slack off on the payroll. At worst, he could fly to Hawaii during the holidays.

Schiller had a fairly good reputation at school because his name carried a lot of weight, though that was all the original owner's résumé. Schiller followed the principle of "you get what you pay for." The moment he sat down in class, he started lecturing; the instant the bell rang, he vanished. After-class questions? Not a chance.

He had been doing this for five days. Fortunately, the original Schiller seemed rather withdrawn too and had few friends. He had only been hired as a professor at Gotham University a few months ago and was not familiar with anyone at the school, so transmigrated Schiller had not exposed any flaws.

While eating that afternoon, Peter sent him a message: "Mr. Schiller, everything is terrible."

It came with a dejected chat emoji. Schiller knew this chat system was not a mind-to-mind connection. Only he used the system; Peter had merely met an online friend by chance on the Web, while Charles had received a message while browsing an education forum in his spare time.

The system transformed chats with these people into forms they could accept. Peter communicated through social media software, while Charles used a knowledge forum. If it were Thanos, perhaps it would be some kind of cosmic network signal.

So the other side would not find it strange. And the system only guaranteed that they would answer Schiller's first question. How the conversation continued afterward was up to Schiller. Therefore, his main chat partner right now was the ignorant, innocent, adolescent Spider-Man.

With an old fox like Charles, Schiller would not probe lightly without absolute confidence.

Schiller replied, "What happened, Peter? Things not going well with Gwen?"

"Oh, they really aren't, but that's not what I meant by terrible."

"Then what is it? Don't tell me you botched an experiment?"

"Sort of. I knocked over a piece of experimental equipment that looked very dangerous. One... dangerous creature inside escaped, and it bit me."

Schiller knew Spider-Man's Destiny had already been partially changed by talking to him. Through their chats, he had learned that Peter was Spider-Man from Marvel's Earth-616 main comic universe. Originally, this high school student should have been bitten while attending an exhibition. But because Peter had fallen for Gwen, he kept pouring his heart out to Schiller about how charming and adorable his classmate Gwen was. Schiller had been thoroughly annoyed by the little chatterbox, so he gave him advice and taught him how to pursue Gwen.

Gwen came from a good family and had found an internship at Osborn Group during the summer. It had originally had nothing to do with Peter, but Schiller suggested that he be bolder and apply for the same internship. Peter had excellent grades and actually got accepted. As a result, instead of being bitten by an exhibition spider, he was directly bitten by a spider from one of Osborn Group's experimental devices...

Either way, he was bound to get bitten. Spider-Man had been chosen by the Weaver among the Spider Totems. If he was not bitten today, he would be bitten tomorrow. No matter how things went, he had to take that bite. Schiller comforted the poor little Spider-Man, then went back to sleep.

Gotham's night was deep and heavy, perfect for sleeping. Bruce stayed awake all night, staring at the moon that had almost lost its shape in the thick fog. In his hand was a stack of files, and the name on the first page was Schiller Andel Rodriguez.

Schiller had no idea Batman had investigated him from top to bottom. In the depths of his Dream, he heard an alarm from the system, but he slept too deeply. Unaware of anything, he was swept by a flash of blue light—

The system alarms became more frequent, yet Schiller still did not wake up. Something seemed to be obstructing the system. Finally, after a burst of garbled noise, Schiller vanished outright.

"Emergency protection system activated. Locating universe... locating universe... receiving universe confirmed. Writing identity information... writing failed... writing... writing successful."

When Schiller woke again, he rubbed his eyes and was immediately dazzled by sunlight. What the hell? Gotham City actually had a sunny day?

He pulled open the curtains—and outside was sunny, bright... New York City.

Completely different from Gotham's weather, which was rotten as shit, New York was clear and sunny. Even early in the morning, the sunlight was already scorching. Schiller looked out the window and realized he was probably in some high-end apartment in downtown New York City. When he turned around, he saw a chaotic pile of things on his desk, along with liquor bottles. Beneath one of them was an ID badge.

"Schiller, Psychiatry Department Doctor at New York Presbyterian Hospital... and an attending physician? I transmigrated again?"

What the hell, Schiller thought. Before he could even start swearing, his phone rang. When he answered, someone on the other end shouted, "Doctor Schiller! Where have you gone? You absolutely cannot miss today's joint consultation! Did you get drunk again?! Get here immediately!"

Schiller's ears hurt from the shouting, but when he remembered that he was now a Doctor, there might be a patient in critical condition. Since he was here, he still had to do the work.

Schiller immediately grabbed his ID and went downstairs to find a car. There was no way someone living in such an upscale apartment did not own one. He found a fairly new Mercedes-Benz in the garage downstairs. Its key matched the one he had, and when he pressed it, the car actually unlocked.

Fortunately, Schiller had come to New York for an academic exchange in his previous life. With the car's navigation, he arrived at Presbyterian Hospital, New York's largest hospital, as quickly as possible.

The moment he entered, the girl at the front desk hurried over and said, "Doctor Schiller, please hurry. The joint consultation has already started."

Schiller did not know what kind of Character Design he had this time, so he merely nodded coldly and headed upstairs.

Fortunately, someone led the way. Schiller arrived at the conference room, and when everyone saw him, the room fell quiet for a moment before the discussion resumed. Schiller sat in the seat deliberately left for him and observed without giving anything away.

It seemed he was a fairly famous Doctor, probably one of the leading figures in his department. The people seated across from him were clearly not from the Psychiatry Department. One Doctor looked particularly arrogant as he said, "Indeed, there is a reason to let those mystical experts take a look first. Otherwise, he might pretend to be crazy again and try to grope the nurses on the operating table."

Schiller glanced at his name badge. Stephen. Stephen Strange. Doctor Strange. Well then, he had come to Marvel again.

Schiller could not be bothered with him. Judging by Strange's appearance, his Car Accident was still a long way off. At this point, he was just an extremely selfish, unbearable bastard whom everyone hated.

Schiller silently read the medical records, but Strange found him unpleasant to look at. There was no particular reason; Schiller clearly had been drinking the day before and had even arrived late for the next day's consultation. Strange was somewhat of a clean freak and could not stand Schiller's unprofessional attitude. Besides, he had always thought Psychiatrists were all frauds playing at mysticism. In short, he found Schiller utterly detestable.

Throughout the meeting, Strange kept picking at him. Schiller simply recited the standard procedure and ignored him completely. After the meeting ended, Strange even deliberately bumped into him.

Schiller was thoroughly irritated, but then he considered that Strange would be taught a lesson eventually. His accident was probably only a few years away. If he were not so insufferable, Schiller might have warned him. But now, Strange could just go suffer through his plotline on his own.

Right after the consultation ended, Schiller checked his phone and received a call. The voice on the other end was pleasant but anxious. She asked, "Doctor Schiller, has your consultation ended? Could you come to Stark Tower now? Tony is in very bad shape..."

Tony Stark?

What point in time was this? Had Iron Man been kidnapped? Or had he already returned?

Schiller did not even have time to look anything up on the Web, because Stark Industries had already sent a car to the hospital entrance. He could only hurry into it. A beautiful woman sat in the passenger seat, looking somewhat businesslike. She said, "Ever since Tony came back, you know how he was at the last diagnosis. He has started losing his temper for no reason and doing crazy things. Last night, I heard him crying..."

"Miss Pepper? Are you all right?" Schiller asked tentatively. Pepper covered her eyes and said, "I'm sorry, but please make sure you put your heart into this treatment."

Schiller understood. This was probably after Iron Man had returned from being kidnapped, after learning that his company's weapons had been used in unjust wars. As for Schiller, Pepper had likely hired him as Stark's psychiatrist because she had been too worried during Stark's inner struggle.