With the academic pressure gone, Bruce returned to his Batman life of idling around during the day and fighting crime at night. The first thing he needed to do was check on the children he had rescued earlier.
The children he had sent to the hospital had basically recovered, but only their external injuries from the abuse had been treated. The physical weakness caused by long-term malnutrition still needed to be addressed.
Bruce had thought that when he returned to the hospital, he would find a group of children who had regained their spirits. Instead, when he arrived at the private ward he had rented at great expense, he found utter chaos.
An indescribable stench filled the ward. The pristine white walls had been smeared with filth that might have been vomit or excrement. Food scraps and shattered meal trays littered the floor. None of the children were in bed; some sat on the ground against the walls, while others had simply curled up asleep in the corners.
Bruce was furious. He called in the doctors and nurses and demanded, "What exactly is going on here? How did this place end up like this? I paid a fortune for the best ward and hired the best caregivers. How could it still turn out like this?!"
He could hardly be blamed for being angry. Back then, he had brought these children here as Bruce Wayne.
Moreover, he had gone directly to the hospital director, rented two connected premium convalescent rooms on the top floor, hired the most expensive caregivers available, and tipped every doctor and nurse. Yet even so, they had still allowed the children to end up like this. Anyone would have been angry.
But the doctors and nurses were helpless too. The head nurse stepped forward and said, "Mr.