novelonline Chapter 4473 The Darkest Night (1)
Chapter 4473 The Darkest Night (1)
Chapter 4473 The Darkest Night (Part 1)
It still rains in Gotham in early winter. After a cold night of rain, the few remaining leaves on the trees were swept to the ground. The asphalt roads gleamed with a cold, wet light, and withered leaves and grass swirled along the trickling water into the sewer drains. After the sun came out, the dampness from the earth rose, and the entire Gotham University campus was filled with the scent of damp earth.
In this kind of weather, wearing too many layers will make you feel stuffy, while wearing too few layers will make you feel cold. Most of the students coming out of the dormitory were wearing coats and scarves. After stepping into the drizzle, their shoulders were covered with tiny, glistening water droplets. It wasn't until they entered the classroom that they took off their damp coats, revealing shirts and overalls underneath.
Schiller, sitting at the podium, looked up and noticed that about 80% of the students were dressed in formal attire. Although they were looking down at their books, their raised eyebrows and hushed conversations revealed that they were not at peace with themselves.
The Christmas ball is just around the corner. It's an annual event at Gotham University, and students start looking for dance partners a month in advance, followed by endless rehearsals. They spend all their free time spinning around in clubrooms, from the moment the first snow falls until the bells ring on Christmas Eve.
Relationships built during those innocent, youthful years are rarely lasting. Most are driven by a surge of hormones, recklessly pursuing and embracing, only to turn away coldly or resentfully when the initial excitement fades. Yet, year after year, group after group of people repeat the same pattern.
Fine snowflakes began to fall outside the towering French windows. Schiller stood before the blackboard, a manuscript in one hand and chalk in the other. Gotham University maintained the tradition of blackboard writing and required professors to have excellent blackboard writing skills; these skills were also checked and documented, and included in the professors' evaluations.
The course Basic Psychology requires a lot of blackboard writing, so Schiller would often arrive early to finish most of the blackboard writing, leaving only a small number of exercises to write during class.
He would stop and glance at the manuscript after writing a few strokes. In fact, he already knew the content by heart, but blackboard writing required neat formatting, fluent writing, and special attention to detail, so he didn't write quickly.
Thanks to Brainiac, the students sitting below now have a good foundation in their studies; at least no one will ask how to understand the simplest copperplate cursive anymore. Schiller finished writing down a long string of technical terms, and when he looked back, most of them were copying notes, the classroom echoing with the rustling sound of writing.
"In the cognitive psychology section, addressing attention problems is a key focus. In the last lesson, I introduced several solutions to attention problems within the field of neuroscience. Next, we will explore the influence of our subjective cognition on how the brain processes information..."
"Please look at the blackboard. This section lists several subjective influences of perceptual information..."
Schiller straightened up and pointed to the blackboard. As soon as he stood up, he saw the classroom door open a crack. The students in the back rows felt the chill seep in and turned to look.
Through the crack in the door, Victor's face was shrouded in shadow, with only his glasses gleaming faintly. Schiller lowered his hand, nodded to Victor, glanced at the manuscript in his hand, and said, "You guys copy down the key points first, I'll be right back."
The students didn't say much. Schiller crossed the chairs, went to the doorway, and squeezed through the crack. The two stood in the shadows outside the classroom door. Schiller looked at Victor and asked, "What's wrong?"
“My student attempted suicide,” Victor said. “The night before last, he forgot to turn off the power to the lab before leaving, causing the cryostat to burn out overnight. I said a few words to him, and he threatened to hang himself in the lab.”
Schiller closed his eyes briefly, then said, "That's a good thing, isn't it? At least in Gotham."
"Yes. He didn't just blow up the lab. Gotham is really getting better. But I still need you to go and see, because if he really hanged himself in the lab, I'll be under investigation."
"Wait a moment." Schiller pushed the door open again and stood at the back, saying to the students, "Sorry, something happened in the Department of Low Temperature Physics, you'll find out soon enough. That's all for today. Be careful of the slippery road on your way to dance practice. get out of class dismissed."
The students immediately began to whisper among themselves. Some pulled out their phones to ask their classmates in the Low Temperature Physics Department what had happened. But most were excitedly calling their dance partners, ready to head to the activity room for another round of spinning.
Schiller grabbed his coat. While adjusting his clothes, Victor said, "We should focus on persuasion. After all, people with such fragile hearts are rare in Gotham."
"What do you think I'm going to do?" Schiller asked him, somewhat annoyed. "Give him a good scolding, and then make him hang himself in the psychology classroom?"
“If you give him a piece of your mind, I have no doubt he’ll blow up the whole of Gotham University,” Victor said, shaking his head. “Don’t give him that chance, okay?”
“Tell me what exactly happened.” Schiller picked up his scarf and walked out, with Victor following behind him.
The newly built Gotham University isn't entirely modern. While the buildings are made of reinforced concrete, their exteriors are designed in a Gothic style, mimicking stone architecture. And because land is plentiful, the entire campus has probably hundreds of useless doorways, becoming ideal shelters for fierce winds and blizzards. You'd better keep your mouth shut when passing through them, or you'll be drinking the northwest wind for dinner.
Both of them wrapped themselves tightly in their clothes, hands in their pockets, and pursed their lips as they walked through the porch. Victor turned around, letting the strong wind hit him, and said, "A sensitive little boy, strictly controlled by his mother. After starting university, he lived off-campus because he couldn't get along with his roommates. He's always distracted when he's working; he's broken other people's flasks before, and the people in the lab don't really like him."
"Did they isolate him?"
"No. In fact, it's impossible to isolate them, because everyone does their own experiments and there's not much communication between them."
Is he sloppy?
"No, it doesn't look too bad, though it does look fairly tidy."
"Not the meticulous kind?"
"No, it's barely acceptable. The cuffs and collar are relatively clean, but the shirt isn't particularly ironed. It certainly can't compare to our Mr. Rodriguez."
“That’s all in the past,” Schiller said. “Merkel is doing very well at the store and doesn’t seem to have any intention of going back to being a housekeeper.”
"But then there's Brainiac, right? I really don't know where you got that smart iron that can connect to Brainiac."
“I need to repeat these things because I’m sick,” Schiller said. “But the little boy you’re describing seems perfectly normal.”
"So he's just a little fragile, right?"
Schiller shook his head and said, "It's not because you insulted him."
"what?"
"His suicidal thoughts were clearly not because you blamed him. It was just that he was ashamed to admit the reason, so he wanted you to take part of the responsibility."
"What the hell?" Victor turned around as they passed through the howling wind in the doorway. The two of them walked up the spiral staircase together. Because of the bad weather outside, they didn't choose the shortcut, but instead planned to go through the administration building and take a detour to the experimental area.
But before they could even enter the laboratory building, Mrs. Edson stopped them in their tracks. "Chick has already been taken to the upstairs meeting room."
"Didn't I tell them to wait in the lab?"
“Yes, but it’s too cold there,” Mrs. Edson said. “Cold temperatures aren’t good for his mood. He needs a warmer place to have hot tea to cope with even worse weather.”
Victor pursed his lips; he sensed the displeasure in Mrs. Edson's tone. Schiller gently nudged his arm and said, "Take us there, madam. The weather will improve."
Mrs. Edson didn't say anything more. She took the tray and led the two upstairs. Entering the reception room, they found several students, most of whom Schiller didn't recognize; he only knew one of them, whom he had met once at the Gotham Police Department.
"professor……"
"Professor, you've arrived."
"Sorry, he said he didn't want to wait there, so we..."
“It’s alright,” Victor said. “You guys go back to class now.”
Mrs. Edson opened her mouth to speak. Schiller said, "I know you still have to rehearse for the Christmas ball. Mrs. Edson and I will be fine here. Go on."
Victor had been watching Chick sitting on the sofa. He noticed a slight unease creep onto the shy boy's face when Schiller mentioned the Christmas ball.
“You should let them stay here,” Mrs. Edson said. “He needs the company of his peers. You’ll scare him.”
The student who had met Schiller once had already left the room with the other students. Mrs. Edson tried to call them back, but the students walked so fast that the door closed without a sound.
Schiller took off his coat, handed it to Mrs. Edson, nodded to her, and said, "Thank you, madam."
Mrs. Edson had no choice but to put down the tray of hot coffee she was holding and hang up his coat for him.
Schiller sat down opposite Chick, looked him over, and said, “It’s not shameful to not have a dance partner. Even if someone gave you a signal and then stood you up, that’s their fault. You don’t have to be so extreme.”
Chick's face turned pale. Victor quickly patted Schiller on the shoulder. Mrs. Edson froze. She looked at Chick and asked, "So you are..."
“I didn’t!” He stood up, trembling all over. “Just because I made a small mistake, he scolded me in front of so many students…”
"Is the new dance partner who stood you up among them?" Schiller looked up at him and said, "They won't laugh at you for getting scolded by the professor, but they will definitely laugh at you for wanting to hang yourself in the lab."
Victor couldn't help but give Schiller another look. Chick seemed to have completely lost his mind: "I said it wasn't because..."
“Brainiac has all your phone chat logs,” Schiller said in a low voice. “He knows best whether you were dumped or not. If you insist on accusing Professor Fries, he can ask Brainiac to check your phone when he is being questioned. Although it won’t be made public, if the investigation finds nothing wrong, everyone will know that you didn’t commit suicide because of this. Who knows what rumors will spread about it.”
Chick began to tremble. Mrs. Edson, still feeling sorry for him, brought him a cup of hot coffee and said, "Don't be afraid, child. Tell us what's wrong. We can help you."
“I am…I…” Chick’s face went from pale to flushed. He stared intently at Victor, as if he wanted to vent all his anger on him.
“You do have some problems,” Schiller said, turning to Victor. “Between a student and you, he actually thinks you’re the pushover. You should reflect on whether you’re too good-natured.”