In the psychiatry department, she met a depressed patient who had come for a consultation. Naturally, he was another nightmare impostor. Harley merely pretended not to know, maintaining a professional, businesslike demeanor.
In fact, she had already roughly guessed that the hospital itself was one enormous nightmare, while the other nightmares within it played different roles, setting traps and pitfalls for her.
But so what? The more people played a game, the more interesting it became.
"You say you have depression. Do you have a medical record?" Harley had the patient lie on the chair—the kind of long couch found in every psychologist's office, where people could lie down, relax, and talk.
"Yes, Doctor. Take a look." The impostor patient handed her a notebook, on which a bat symbol had been neatly drawn.
Harley nearly laughed out loud at the sight.
Yes, this time the nightmare was impersonating Batwoman—more precisely, Bruce Wayne—but pulling out a bat notebook was just too funny. Wasn't that exposing his secret identity?
Although every villain who had made something of themselves in Gotham knew Batwoman's true identity, not ruining the game while playing it was an unspoken rule everyone followed.
Batwoman knew they knew his identity, but he could not openly acknowledge it. That was simply how the game was played.
Was this nightmare trying to make her laugh to death? The female doctor bit down on the barrel of a ballpoint pen, smiling as she thought:
If that was the case, then this trap was somewhat interesting. Batwoman was a serious person, never smiled, and had no sense of humor. If his image in the dream showed a sharp contrast, it could pique her curiosity.
Then, once she followed the standard psychologist workflow and started chatting, the other side could drop some huge punchline