Harvey Dent was not dead. In fact, even Gilda was fine.
Jude looked at the news report and smiled with satisfaction. He was almost completely certain of his assessment because the system's notifications were never wrong.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION
Mission: Better to Redirect Than to Block
Status: COMPLETE (1/1)
Reward: Advanced Culinary Mastery - CLAIMED
He casually filled a decorative cornucopia with grapes, corn, small pumpkins, and cherry tomatoes. Today was Thanksgiving—another holiday, another side job. The cornucopia in his hands was exactly the item required for delivery.
"Even the protective cross charge count hasn't decreased. Harvey Dent is truly impressive! Ten seconds must've been plenty of time for him."
His smile faded as he continued reading. The second half of the news report seemed strange.
He couldn't understand why Harvey's wife had been hospitalized. If she'd been admitted for examination on the day of the explosion, why was she still there now?
Could there be some unexpected complication he wasn't aware of? He carefully recalled his memories of Harvey's wife, but honestly, he could only remember Harvey Dent's girlfriend who'd been kidnapped by the Joker in The Dark Knight trilogy. Obviously, these were two different people.
"Better go to the hospital and retrieve that cross necklace."
"Do you think what he said is possible? This isn't the first time I've heard—"
"Harvey Dent shot the Roman's nephew twice in the head?" Gordon's voice was firm. "I don't believe it. I won't believe it. And you shouldn't believe it either."
Harvey, who'd just entered the room, had no idea this conversation between Gordon and Batman had taken place. He was distracted as he peeled off the prosthetic mask.
Being two people at the same time felt amazing. Strangely, he seemed very familiar with the duality. Even felt a little reluctant to abandon it, as if he'd been born to be two people.
"So instead of charging the Irish Gang with murder—I'm going to let them walk. We'll spread word on the streets that we've reached a deal with them, then see how the Romans react."
"We can still charge them." Batman's voice emerged from shadow. "They confessed to murder, bombing your house, and sending Gilda to the hospital."
Harvey felt darkness creep over him at Gordon's mention of Gilda.
He'd tricked her into wearing the cross necklace from the package and led her away from the bomb's main impact area. Despite no external injuries, she'd fallen into a coma. She still hadn't woken.
Gordon's words really struck a nerve. Gilda's situation remained unclear, but if they prosecuted the Irish Gang conventionally, there would be no strategic gain.
"They can post bail in an hour. Bribe the judge. We still get nothing."
Batman watched the two argue in silence. This time, he didn't want to make the decision for them.
"Prosecute them, Harvey. For God's sake, or I'll go to the district attorney's office and find someone who will prosecute." Gordon's anger was palpable. Harvey's wife was hospitalized, and now Harvey wanted to acquit those bastards to solve the bigger case. It made Gordon furious. He couldn't stand watching unscrupulous villains who challenged justice walk free.
If Gordon didn't have this integrity, the Gotham PD would still be an umbrella for the gangs.
The Irish Gang was released on bail in less than an hour.
Gordon actually missed dinner. Harvey went to the hospital to watch over his wife. And Batman descended into the sewers with a Thanksgiving meal—where he found Solomon Grundy already eating another dinner. This reminded him of the friend Grundy had mentioned.
"Grundy? Who brought you this meal?"
The massive figure didn't answer, just continued eating. Batman glanced around the tunnel. Aside from sewage on the ground, everything had been consumed by Grundy. Solomon's friend hadn't left any investigative clues. Batman's instinctive reaction was to investigate anything he encountered.
But here—nothing.
Meanwhile, Harvey returned to the hospital.
Gilda still lay on the bed, showing no signs of waking. He took her hand, warming her cold palm with his body temperature. Sat beside the bed and prayed silently to God, hoping his wife would wake soon.
In this moment, Harvey seemed to transform back into the role of husband. It felt strange to him. For so long, he'd been forced to choose between Gotham and his family. He'd always chosen Gotham. Working longer hours. Confronting more crimes. Facing greater dangers. But he'd held on.
Yet he came home later and later. The cases grew more serious. Gilda's stress increased—she'd stayed in the city wholeheartedly, supported every decision he made. But her husband spent less and less time with her.
This city has taken my husband from me, she often thought.
Harvey remembered what they'd said long ago, about wanting a child to bring life to their family. To this day, that idea remained just an idea. Only today did he remember he was still a husband.
I'm sorry, he thought, guilt washing over him. He held her hand and fell asleep at her bedside.
A moment later, a nurse wearing a surgical mask pushed the door open. After a quick glance at the patients in the room, she walked straight to Gilda's bed.
Her footsteps were silent enough not to wake Harvey. She reached out and lightly touched the cross necklace around Gilda's neck.
It vanished into system inventory.
The nurse turned, scanned the room one more time to ensure nobody had noticed, and quickly left.
"Hey, John, look at this surveillance feed. Why'd it suddenly cut out?"
In the security office, the guard eating a hamburger turned to see the monitor his colleague pointed at. The screen showed nothing but white static like snow. He scratched his head.
"Really? That's bizarre! I'll go check it—hey, wait. Is the picture normal again?"
The two looked at each other, finally giving up on understanding.
"Whatever. It's normal now."
"Let me see." Jude muttered to himself, reviewing expenses. "Computer setup cost four thousand. Phone for it cost five hundred. Nurse uniform cost twenty. Intermediate Stealth Mastery cost four thousand. Custom low-yield bomb cost five hundred."
He tallied the asset points spent over recent days and sighed.
Over nine thousand points deducted. So much stress and worry. Being a good person was genuinely exhausting.
He didn't know how Harvey Dent managed to sustain it.