Chapter 8 Inheriting Authentic Old London Official Speech: So, Humphrey is also...
Isaiah Thomas, true to his Earth-3 origins, delivered a flawless performance and effortlessly earned a piece of candy.
However, the reason he was able to get the candy so easily might simply be because the doctor was a respectable, normal person who didn't know that a four-year-old child's body could contain an adult's soul, and thus was easily fooled.
The candy felt nice to the touch; it was a pink gummy candy coated in coconut flakes and wrapped in a layer of transparent plastic wrap. The plastic wrap was unevenly folded, clearly indicating that it was hand-packaged.
This kind of handmade food is the easiest to poison, and doctors are not entirely without motive.
There must be someone in this world willing to spend a fortune to bribe this doctor into doing something. Thomas himself could think of several ways to profit from poisoning Wayne's heir.
Thomas left the examination room alone, thoughtfully closing the door to give Alfred and the doctor space to discuss the diagnosis and treatment plan.
He looked up and met Bruce's gaze.
Those eyes held the deep and sincere concern and worry of an eight-year-old child.
Thomas showed him the candy, and Bruce kept his word, holding out his hand to Thomas with the gummy candy in his palm.
Thomas Jr. reached out and took the candy; he could feel the warmth of the plastic wrap.
Bruce's eyes followed the candy. He watched Thomas squeeze the two candies, then put them in his pocket, unconsciously biting his lower lip as if the space between his teeth wasn't his own lips, but soft, sweet candy.
Thomas could tell that Bruce really, really wanted the candy, but he definitely couldn't give it to him.
So Thomas turned his head away and pretended that he had suddenly become interested in the kitchen at home.
“If you want to eat it, we can make it at home.” Thomas tried not to think about his cooking skills; he had never properly cooked in either of his lives, but that didn’t stop him from passing the buck to Alfred. “I’m sure Alfred can.”
Bruce seemed to agree with the idea, but he shook his head: "Tomorrow is the funeral."
So Thomas shut his mouth too.
He really didn't know what kind of expression to make towards the Waynes.
The sound of the door opening broke the silence again, and this time Alfred came out with the doctor.
The two exchanged some meaningless words using the template-like communication that adults are best at. Alfred handed over a thick envelope as he spoke, and then very gentlemanly escorted the doctor to the car.
Next comes the private conversation between Alfred and his two children.
Thomas was called in first, and he knew what Alfred was going to say as soon as he went in.
"You intend to terminate our cooperation."
He used an affirmative sentence.
Alfred did not refute: "Yes, I will not tell Master Bruce that you have a mental illness."
Thomas sat opposite Alfred, looking him in the eye: "There should be some left, right?"
“I also intend to help Bruce find the truth. It’s safer for him to go with me than to act alone.”
“Okay, I understand.” Thomas nodded.
To Alfred's surprise, Thomas Jr. did not force him to carry out the original plan; instead, he calmly accepted the facts.
"Because I think arguing is inefficient. Since we can't reach an agreement no matter what, there's no need to argue. Besides, I have alternatives."
Thomas Jr. has to observe and be wary of outsiders every day on Earth III. He is now a master of interpreting Alfred's expressions: "I don't know enough about psychology and I can't understand Bruce's treatment plan, so I won't prevent Bruce from receiving treatment just because I'm suspicious."
"Thank you for your understanding, young master Thomas."
Alfred was even somewhat relieved; although young Thomas was somewhat unusual, at least he was understanding…
“But I still have one request,” Thomas said. “I want to enroll in Bruce’s school immediately. I fully support your actions, but I also demand the right to remain by Bruce’s side and observe him.”
Thomas Jr. added, "This is obviously good for you too, Alfred. Bruce and I are both at school, so your 'co-custodial' idea won't fall through. And you can also free up time to prepare for the investigation, reducing the possibility of unexpected events."
It sounded very convincing, but Alfred wasn't buying it.
“You are not suited for school, young Thomas.” Alfred shook his head. “In my eyes, you have not disguised your differences well, and it would be dangerous for you to stay among people for too long.”
Alfred was being too tactful. Thomas Jr. never pretended; he disdained to, disdained to blend in, and had no concern whatsoever about anyone noticing his unusual nature.
“Don’t worry, the people in the two worlds are very different, but people are the same in both worlds.” He leaned back relaxedly. “Deception, exploitation, manipulation… these are essential skills for social life. Alfred, instead of worrying about me, you should worry about Bruce. He didn’t get any candy and he’s in a bad mood.”
Then Thomas took out the two candies, unwrapped them, smeared some coconut flakes on his lips, wrapped the candies in a damp tissue, and threw them into the room's trash can.
Looking at the candy in the trash can, Alfred said to Thomas, "Living in a crowd while always wearing a mask, and even telling lies to your closest relatives, will be exhausting."
“I’ve seen so many worlds,” Thomas Jr. retorted. “No one can be completely themselves in a crowd; everyone is the same.”
“I just think you can tell Bruce your concerns, and he will understand.”
“Bruce is an eight-year-old boy, and I’m asking him to doubt his doctor.” Thomas threw the candy wrapper into the trash can as well. “It will make him resistant, which will be detrimental to the next stage of treatment.”
"I am enough for someone who doubts and is wary of everything."
Seeing that he couldn't persuade Thomas, Alfred shrugged.
“Okay, but remember,” Alfred said, “one lie needs to be covered up with a thousand more.”
At least be honest with your family.
But Alfred didn't say it aloud; he planned to teach Thomas a lesson through his actions.
“I’m glad we were able to reach an agreement on my studies.” Thomas could tell that Alfred wanted to take a loss, but he didn’t point it out.
He wasn't worried at all that Alfred would use the candy in the trash can as a pretext. Thomas Jr. had countless excuses for why the candy was in the trash can without arousing Bruce's suspicion.
He trusted Alfred's abilities, and Alfred trusted his eloquence. Both knew that directly complaining to Bruce was the stupidest approach, and such a foolish plan, which couldn't deliver a decisive blow, was something Alfred would never use.
He left the room quietly.
Bruce immediately noticed the coconut flakes on Thomas's lips and asked absentmindedly, "Is it good? What flavor is it?"
“It’s very sweet and delicious,” Thomas replied earnestly. “The outside is coconut flakes, and the inside is strawberry flavored.”
"I heard from the doctor that this is Turkish delight. She said she made it herself and it has a very traditional flavor."
Bruce opened the door with a stiff face and some nervousness. He was really worried about Thomas's diagnosis, but he didn't want to show it in front of Thomas, so he started to cover up his emotions with some trivial words.
He carefully closed the door tightly, waited a while, and then suddenly opened it again to prevent Thomas from eavesdropping outside.
Thomas was quietly reading on the sofa when he heard the door open and looked over in confusion: "Is it over?"
Alfred couldn't have only spoken for such a short time, could he? Bruce is a real eight-year-old; how could their communication be so efficient?
Could it be that I misjudged Alfred's intelligence in this world, and he actually told Bruce directly about me throwing the candy?
Under Thomas's suspicious gaze, Bruce awkwardly closed the door.
“No need to worry so much, Master Bruce,” Alfred said casually. “The guest rooms are very soundproof. As long as young Thomas isn’t some slime monster who can squeeze through the crack in the door, we’re perfectly safe.”
Bruce glanced instinctively through the crack in the door.
Alfred stared at him with a worried look.
"...Alfred, I know you know I know Tommy won't suddenly turn into a slime and crawl in, right?"
“But he might suddenly turn into a primary school student and go to school with you, Master Bruce.” Alfred took a sip of the tea on the table.
Bruce hadn't even settled into his seat when he heard the news and jumped up from his chair: "What? Wait, Alfred, Tommy is only four years old!"
“Yes, I remember it vividly.” Alfred deliberately teased the only real child in this world’s family, answering him slowly, “I even changed his diapers.”
"That's not the point! The point is that Tommy shouldn't be in school; he has mental health issues..."
Alfred completely agreed; young Thomas was utterly unfit for school. But since he hadn't objected earlier, he now had to help young Thomas complete this plan.
"Based on our comprehensive assessment of certain hidden and unspeakable objective facts, we can most likely frankly regard this plan as the undisputed best solution under the current special circumstances."
Alfred didn't want to lie to Bruce, so he tried to confuse Bruce by mimicking the way a British cabinet secretary spoke.
Although Alfred's skills weren't quite up to par, he was good enough at keeping Bruce in check.
Bruce thought for a moment, then finally uttered only one word: "Pardon?"
"It means that it's best for young Thomas to go to school with you, Bruce, and he's in first grade." Alfred himself thought Thomas's plan was simply outrageous. "I can't tell you the reason. But there's no need to worry about young Thomas's mental state; the doctor said he doesn't have autism."
"What about depression?" Bruce was very perceptive, instinctively recognizing a key element of British official jargon—the absence of a specific denial implies its presence.
Unfortunately, Thomas Jr. simply felt that life was meaningless and that he didn't care whether he lived or died. Although he was much more extreme than the average person with depression, he did not actually have depression.
"No, young master Thomas does not have depression."
Bruce looked at him disapprovingly.
Alfred shut his mouth, his face showing no emotion whatsoever.
For once, he felt a little guilty.
It should be Isaiah Thomas who feels most guilty.
A note from the author:
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Although it looks like the ninja was manipulated by Big (Alfred was somewhat relieved at that point), Thomas is actually quite honest and well-behaved right now. He didn't cause any trouble or make a scene before revealing his identity, which is to say, to put it more abstractly, he killed someone and revealed his identity because his family's lives were threatened (Alfred definitely didn't know that the gunman wouldn't kill Bruce; from his perspective, Thomas killed the person to avenge his parents and protect Bruce)... So, in Alfred's eyes, the Owl is currently a good kid who has gone astray.
I don't want to go into detail about the funeral...it's unnecessary, and I don't want to dwell on the child's sadness anymore; writing about the child's sadness makes me sad too. So, the next chapter is about Butler vs. Night Owl—guess who wins! [sunglasses]
I've already brainstormed two side stories: one is an "what if" scenario where Little Thomas is reborn in Lincoln March and his position is stolen by Catfa to become his claws, and the other is a chaotic battle between Batman/Batman/Owl/Tomcat/Owl shippers (given the mental state of us Gotham people, I feel like it would be hilarious to write). So I've already come up with all of these, why do I still have to write? (playing the victim) (A trashy author who starts thinking about side stories before even finishing Chapter 10) (Not a writer whose motivation is greatly reduced during finals week) (I really do need to listen to calculus online lectures for inspiration) (feeling guilty) (eyes shift)
The pace is a bit slow now. My original plan was to finish the two chapters of Thomas' childhood story, and then move on to the sub-adult owl rampaging and tormenting people everywhere.
Now I'm so engrossed in writing about the Bat-like characters (no problem, the old man is also a Batman, so the Wayne brothers are Bat-like characters too!) I've lost all interest! While writing, I kept wanting to add some brotherly affection and Alfred's doting on the children, which means the childhood storyline might have several more chapters. Now I'm like a two-faced person, my left and right brains fighting each other. On one hand, I'm thinking the childhood storyline is too bland and I need to write about the crazy Owl's fighting prowess; on the other hand, I can't help but desperately write about the mutual affection. The children in the original story are already so miserable, what's wrong with the fanfiction being a little sweeter? I'm not some damned DC, so just because the children like sweet treats doesn't mean they have to eat them! [heartbroken]
So, barring any unforeseen circumstances, the next few chapters will likely remain quite uneventful, and it will be some time before the CEO of the Owls officially goes berserk and overturns Gotham (regardless of whether he's a hero or a villain).
Playing Hades II, I got beaten up like a ball rolling around on the ground. What kind of enemies are these? This Zero Heat is even stronger than the first game's Three Heat! I'm speechless. There's no shield, no electric bloodline, no wheelchair. [Heartbroken] The old man still held back. Old Deng's barrage was so brutal. [Crying] But I just stubbornly refused to use my divine power. This is my last act of defiance as a noob...
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