Chapter 50: In What Way Is It Not a Kind of Ox?

Harvey Dent was not dead; in fact, even Grida was unharmed.

Mackenzie watched the news report with a broad smile. He was almost completely confident in his judgment because the system’s prompts were never wrong.

Casually, he filled a cornucopia with grapes, corn, small pumpkins, and cherry tomatoes. Today was Thanksgiving, another holiday symbolizing another task, and the abundant horn in his hands was exactly the item required to fulfill this gig.

“Even the usage count of the protective amulet necklace shown in the system hasn’t decreased. Harvey Dent really is impressive... ten seconds must have been plenty of time for him.”

At this thought, his smile faded, for the latter part of the news report was puzzling.

Why was Harvey’s wife hospitalized? He couldn’t understand. If her admission on the day of the explosion was for examination, then there was no reason for her to still be in the hospital today.

Could something have happened that he didn’t know about?

He carefully recalled everything about Harvey’s wife, but in truth, the only image that came to mind was the girlfriend of Harvey Dent, who was kidnapped by the Joker in the Dark Knight trilogy—clearly, these two had nothing to do with each other.

“I should visit the hospital and retrieve the cross necklace.”

-----------------

“Do you think there’s some truth to what he’s saying? This isn’t the first time I’ve heard—”

“Harvey Dent shot the Roman’s nephew twice? I don’t believe it. I won’t believe it, and neither should you.”

...

Harvey, who had just entered the room, was unaware of the conversation between Gordon and Batman. He was momentarily distracted as he removed his mask.

At the same time, being both men... the feeling was strange, yet somehow familiar, almost as if he were born to be two people.

“So, no murder charges against the Irish Mob—I plan to let them go. We’ll leak some rumors to the streets, say we’ve reached an agreement, and then see how the Romans react.”

“We can still prosecute them. They admitted to intent to murder, blew up your house, and sent Grida to the hospital.”

Hearing Gordon mention Grida, Harvey’s mood darkened.

-----------------

He had tricked Grida into wearing the cross necklace from the package and had shielded her from the main blast radius. Though she showed no external injuries upon examination, she remained unconscious and had yet to awaken.

Gordon’s words struck a chord within him, for Grida’s condition was still unclear. But if they pursued this course, there would be no gains...

“They can post bail within an hour, bribe the judge, and we’ll still have nothing.”

Batman watched their quarrel silently. At a time like this, he did not want to make decisions for either of them.

“Prosecute them, Harvey, for God’s sake, or I’ll find someone at the district attorney’s office willing to charge them.” Gordon’s voice was filled with anger. Harvey’s wife was in the hospital, yet they were considering releasing those bastards without charge to solve the case. It infuriated him. He had always hated seeing arrogant criminals flout justice and walk free.

If it weren’t for Gordon’s integrity, Gotham’s police might still be a shield for the gangs.

...

Harvey was wrong—the Irish Mob was bailed out in less than an hour.

Gordon had truly missed dinner. Harvey stayed at the hospital to watch over Grida through the night, while Batman took a Thanksgiving meal into the sewers—and there he found Solomon eating another meal, reminding him of the friend Grandi had mentioned.

“Grandi? Who brought you this meal?”

But the big man didn’t answer and continued eating.

Batman scanned the surroundings. Apart from the sewage on the ground, it seemed Grandi had devoured everything. Solomon’s friend left no clues to investigate—instinctively, Batman wanted to probe into the matter.

Meanwhile, Harvey had returned to the hospital.

Grida still lay in bed, showing no signs of waking. He took her hand, warming the chill from her palm with his own body heat, and silently prayed to God by her bedside, hoping she would awaken soon.

At this moment, Harvey seemed to have returned to the role of husband, a feeling somewhat foreign to him. For a long time, he had constantly had to choose between Gotham and his family—and he always chose Gotham. Longer overtime hours, more crimes, increasing dangers—but he endured them all.

Yet, his return home grew later and later, the cases he handled more severe, and Grida’s pressure mounting as well. She had wholeheartedly followed Harvey in staying in this city, supporting every decision he made, but her husband’s time with her grew ever shorter.

This city had taken her husband away, she often thought.

Harvey recalled a conversation from long ago—the wish to have a child, to bring a little life into their family. But to this day, it remained only a wish. Only now did he remember that he still bore the identity of a husband.

“I have failed my wife,” he thought, guilt gnawing at his heart as he held her hand and dozed off by her bedside.

Moments later, a masked nurse entered quietly, glanced briefly at the patient, and walked directly to Grida’s bedside.

His footsteps were light, not waking Harvey. He reached out and gently touched the cross necklace around Grida’s neck, which then vanished.

He glanced around the room to ensure no one noticed, then quickly left.

...

“Hey, John, look at this monitor—why did it suddenly go dark?”

In the surveillance room, a security guard eating a burger turned to see that the screen his colleague pointed at was flickering with static, scratching his head in confusion.

“That’s weird. I’ll go check—huh, the image is back again?”

They exchanged puzzled looks but gave up trying to figure it out.

“Whatever, it’s working now.”

...

“Let’s see, the computer set cost four thousand, the phone five hundred, the nurse’s outfit twenty, intermediate stealth mastery four thousand, custom bombs five hundred...”

Mackenzie muttered the expenses he had racked up lately, sighing.

Over nine thousand spent, and still so many worries. Trying to be a good person was truly exhausting.

He wondered how Harvey Dent had managed to endure it all.