The pitch-black corridor resembled a gaping maw poised to devour its prey, and where that darkness spread lay an endless abyss.
With a click, the room's lights came on.
The edge of the light was razor-sharp, as though it had forcibly gouged out a piece of the impenetrable darkness. Yet as the door slowly closed, heavy shadows once more swallowed the light with irresistible force.
A hand clad in a black gauntlet released the doorknob. The dark figure braced both hands against the sink again. When he opened his eyes, the reflection in the mirror was not his own stern face, but a lunatic with green hair, pale skin, and a wide, grinning mouth.
"Do you think this is a hallucination caused by Fear Gas? Batman, stop being so naïve. You know this has nothing to do with that idiot's tricks. I never died."
Batman merely listened in silence.
The Joker in the mirror tapped the glass with one finger, as though he truly existed and could break through the mirror's barrier to return to the real world at any moment.
"I will always exist in the depths of your heart. You, me, or anyone else in Arkham Asylum—none of us can change that. Accept reality, Batman."
Water splashed as the faucet was turned on. Batman tore off his mask, bent down, and splashed cold water over his face.
As he raised his hand, he faintly felt pain in his right arm. Turning to look, he saw through his water-blurred vision that there was a cut on his right forearm. The wound had turned an unnatural black. He knew it was the result of Fear Gas contaminating his blood.
"Scarecrow..."
The low voice echoed through the cramped space. When Batman looked into the mirror again, everything that had appeared moments