When Bruce gradually regained consciousness, night had already fallen. He felt as though he had had a dream, but when he woke up, he had completely forgotten what it was about.
Bruce was starving, but there was no ready-made food to fill his stomach. He stood up, swayed twice, and fell back to the ground.
Sitting for so long in an improper posture had put too much strain on his pelvis, disrupting the blood circulation in his back and legs. Simply put, his legs had gone numb.
When Bruce fell, his elbow happened to strike the edge of a step. He cried out in pain and grimaced at his arm.
"Damn it, just my luck, huh?"
He said it, then suddenly froze. He realized there was no one else here now. He did not need to put on an act for anyone. So he pursed his lips and stood up again.
This time, dizziness hit him. Going without food for so long had given him some symptoms of low blood sugar, but fortunately, his body was naturally strong. After feeling dizzy for only a moment, he recovered.
Bruce slowly made his way outside, found the car he had driven here, and sat in the driver's seat. He let out a long breath, but just as he was about to start the car, he discovered that it would not start at all.
After trying repeatedly, Bruce had no choice but to get out and inspect the engine. The moment he opened the hood, he froze.
Because the entire engine was gone.
Bruce slammed the hood shut and looked around, but found no trace of the thief. This was nothing unusual in Gotham. The fact that they had left him the shell of the car at all was already rather professional of