Chapter 799: Deadly Jokes (Part 26) (Patreon)

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In a certain morning, Bruce stopped Schiller, who was about to leave for work, with a very serious expression. "Schiller, I think we really need to talk."

Schiller pushed Bruce's arm aside, trying to go out, and replied, "What's up? Don't stop me from looking for a job. Don't you know how tough the situation is right now? I've been here for several days, and I haven't found a regular job yet."

Bruce took a good look at Schiller. Several days had passed, but his clothes, shoes, and watch were all intact. He looked healthy and energetic, spending more than twelve hours a day searching for jobs without showing any signs of exhaustion.

Schiller attempted to leave again, but Bruce stopped him and said, "No, you can't go out. What you're doing right now is too dangerous. Can't you just find a job here in Living Hell?"

After some consideration, Schiller reluctantly agreed, "Well, maybe there's some reason to it. I've been wandering around here for days, and I haven't found any promising job opportunities. I haven't tried looking for work close to home. Fine, I'll give it a try."

Bruce sighed with relief, but that relief lasted less than half a minute as Schiller headed straight for the water purifier.

Bruce struggled to pull him back, and by now, he was nearly out of energy. He was more tired than he had been in the past few days combined, and he could barely stand straight.

Leaning against the nearby railing, he told Schiller, "You can't poison the water source, you can't threaten the local gangs here with chemical agents to provide you with job positions, and you can't collude with the newsboys to intercept purified water and sell it at a high price..."

Schiller considered for a moment and said, "Okay, then I'll go upstairs for a look."

Ten minutes later, Bruce stopped him again, saying, "No, you can't go to the rooftop! Don't mess with the greenery here; you can't dig it up to make money. This is a public facility..."

"Don't tamper with the plumbing! What? Owls? There are no owls!"

"Has Hans come to see you? You can't kill for him; you're not an assassin! You're a university professor!!!"

Over the next few days, Bruce came to a full realization of how serious the consequences could be when making decisions with a malnourished brain.

During these days, Bruce's main job was to follow Schiller as he searched for jobs. Each time, Schiller managed to create perfect job opportunities for himself.

In reality, there were only a few places with employment opportunities in Gotham East District, and to find a job without leaving the district, Schiller had to hover around the warehouse area, the food service area, the truck area, and Living Hell.

Schiller kept searching for jobs, but he never really found one. In the warehouse area, he started as a warehouse manager, falsifying records, stealing goods, and ensuring his basic survival. However, things took an unexpected turn when a gang leader discovered what he was doing.

In theory, this should have been the start of his misfortune, but Schiller talked to the gang leader and somehow managed to bring disaster upon the gang's warehouse. Today, they suffered a loss of 1200 items due to a truck overturn, and tomorrow, 800 items were lost in a warehouse fire.

The gang leader was furious and sought Schiller out, but Schiller presented him with another idea. As long as there were no goods, there would be no profit, and according to the gang's rules, no "protection fee" would be needed. In other words, if you replaced "protection fee" with taxes, many people would understand.

Out of the total 2000 items, 1200 were damaged in the truck accident and 800 were completely lost in the fire. This meant that the profit from these 2000 items was zero, and when reporting to higher-ups, the "protection fee" to be paid was also zero.

At the same time, the cost of transporting these 2000 items, storing them, advertising or facilitating trade added up to more than three times the cost of purchasing the goods themselves. Due to the loss of these 2000 items, all expenses turned into losses, and this portion of profit no longer needed to be proportionally shared upwards, essentially making it tax-free.

Seeing Schiller's actions escalate from petty theft to tax evasion, Bruce had to change the game rules. The warehouse area was definitely off-limits, as at this rate, they wouldn't be able to rebuild faster than the warehouse fires.

In the food service area, Schiller initially helped the food vendors' bosses eliminate their competitors, but he quickly turned his attention to the source of meat.

To get high-quality meat at a low cost, he had to focus on smuggling frozen meat. But Schiller felt that the cost of frozen smuggled meat was still not low enough, so he set his sights on sick cattle.

However, the number of sick cattle was limited, and it was a one-time deal. Schiller planned to collaborate with a veterinarian to disguise healthy cows as sick ones. Eventually, he started contacting ranch owners to collectively lower the prices of calf livestock.

To ensure the future food safety of Gotham, Bruce excluded the food service area from Schiller's activities. Schiller didn't object and turned his attention to causing trouble for truck drivers.

Of course, the truck drivers were spared, thanks to JokerJack, a hero named Jack who protected their turf. He drove Schiller, who wanted to establish a trucker's union, out of the area. This time, it was a victory for the people of the lower levels.

Despite this, Bruce still removed the gathering places of truck drivers from Schiller's job search area. He didn't want to wake up early in the morning to find two Jokers sitting at the foot of his bed, demanding explanations.

Since he couldn't go anywhere else, Schiller decided to stay in Living Hell. However, even in Living Hell, Schiller couldn't suppress his desire to find a stable job.

After accumulating some initial capital, Schiller started speculating in real estate. Speculating in real estate as an individual was indeed challenging, but Schiller excelled at painting a rosy picture and then luring a group of people into the pit.

Living Hell in the East District had a prime location, excellent amenities, good living conditions, and unique sanitation conditions. It was also the only school district. How could he resist speculating in real estate here?

Of course, Bruce wasn't naive. He realized that the end result of real estate speculation was to drive out all the residents who originally lived there, leaving all the houses empty for investment purposes. This would further widen the wealth gap and bring even greater chaos.

During this period, in order to stop Schiller from creating various job opportunities and expanding investment avenues, Bruce barely slept at night, woke up early in the morning, and hastily ate his meals. He was even more disheveled than he had been while homeless.

When he was homeless, he had to confront a crazy reality, but now he had to deal with a lunatic who had no qualms about anything, even in this insane reality.

Bruce realized that the fundamental reason Schiller had an advantage here was that he had no morals.

From this, Bruce also realized that Schiller's initial doubts about living in the slums were reasonable. In Schiller's eyes, living in the slums was not difficult at all; it was like coming home.

This made Bruce wonder whether all the hardships he had experienced here were because he wasn't bad enough.

When he had exhausted his last ounce of strength and could barely leave his room, leaning against his bed, he asked Schiller his first question, "Do you think I deserve this, don't you?"

Schiller pulled a chair and sat at the edge of his bed, peeling a fresh apple. He replied, "I know what you want to ask. Are good people supposed to be held at gunpoint?"

"You realize that you're going through all this difficulty here not because you're not smart or not hardworking enough but simply because you're not bad enough."

"You don't want to harm others proactively, and you're not willing to abandon your conscience for the sake of survival materials. This leaves you with no advantage in this competition, and you've found that following the rules here only leads to death."

Bruce could now be described as emaciated. In just over two months, he had become so thin that you could clearly see the shape of his skull. His eyes were deeply sunken in their sockets, and his handsome face, which had once troubled him, was gone.

He now resembled a true East District resident, and not just any resident, but one from the lowest levels. However, his blue eyes still shone brightly, like a blue sky that Gotham had never seen before.

"If in a city, good people have no way out and can only die in such a society, then perhaps this city is beyond salvation, isn't it?" Schiller looked at Bruce.

Bruce remained silent, not giving an answer.

"I admire your persistence," Schiller stood up, turned toward the door, and said, "I'm a person with persistence too, so I'm going to look for a job."

In the moment Schiller turned back, Bruce saw a smile on his face.

After the door closed, he hurriedly climbed off the bed because in Schiller's last smile, he saw a terrifying madness.

Now, he understood the reason behind all these anomalies. The person sharing the room with him was not a professor but Gotham's eternal nightmare.

Bruce mustered the last bit of his strength to get up. He knew he had to catch up with Schiller. A force compelled him to do so.

After the almost fading laughter disappeared, another force erupted from within his chest.

He stumbled out of the door, but there was no sign of Schiller outside. However, Bruce knew where he had to go.

In the production workshop of the ACE Chemical Factory, Schiller stood on a platform beside a massive chemical mixing tank, holding a match in his hand. Bruce noticed the "No Open Flame" sign on the tank's side.

Schiller seemed oblivious to Bruce's presence as he stared at the flame of the match. Bruce struggled to climb up to the platform, using his last ounce of strength, and fell to the ground.

The two figures appeared minuscule under the fluorescent glow of chemical compounds. The round storage tanks resembled suns, while Schiller and Bruce floated above the fire of that sun.

Bruce had no strength left; the prolonged torment had left him incapable of fighting anyone. He could only watch as Schiller lit another match, and behind the flames, he saw Schiller's maniacal smile.

Bruce closed his eyes in pain, and a hoarse voice escaped his throat, lower than the wind in an endless desert, "Joker..."

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