Chapter 11

Years ago, under the orchestration of Ms. Carter, Bruce Wayne had transferred a personal sponsorship fund to the Damon family’s account. Few within the foundation were aware of this, as it was intended to prevent anyone from using money as leverage to endanger the Damons.

It was a considerable sum, enough to change their lives and even secure a new residence. The Joker didn’t care much about the money itself but appointed a loyal subordinate to handle the expenses—at least to keep the bills in order and avoid glaring mistakes. They moved back into that two-story house, but on the official paperwork and bank statements, it was listed as a rental.

The Joker always paid attention to such details; they were what allowed his game to continue. He enjoyed these tricks, fooling everyone, and they never failed to amuse him—

Who, after all, was the actor on stage, and who was merely the audience watching the show?

Everyone assumed the Joker was the jester, simply because he was always laughing. He aimed to make everyone laugh, but sadly, they lacked his sensitivity to humor, couldn’t match his wit, were timid, disobedient, and prone to wandering about—nothing like the cooperation the Joker desired, which displeased him greatly.

But it didn’t matter. He had a perspective all his own, sitting alone in the audience watching everyone perform for him. Alas, the show ran long, and many characters exited the stage never to return. Fortunately, there were regular guests—like Batman—who was the most dedicated of all.

The Joker was a good audience. He understood that a performance couldn’t be all climax and lead roles, as that would cause aesthetic fatigue. In everyone’s eyes, he was also a performer who took breaks frequently. Even if a show wasn’t popular, once a scene ended, he would always wait to recuperate before returning.

...

During the New Year holiday, having already made his presence known enough as Arthur, with no other amusements to seek, the Joker took Megan back to Arkham Asylum.

When this small, fragile, and powerless little girl first appeared in the high-security ward of the asylum, the mentally ill criminals all stirred. The Joker put on a show of a benevolent father figure, which horrified and chilled them, but they also realized she belonged to the Joker.

She was the Joker’s plaything, and no one was allowed to touch her. To harm her would be to provoke the Joker himself, inviting his wrath and retaliation. He made this very clear.

Fortunately, none of them were fools—they knew what they could and could not do—so they silently accepted her presence and watched as the Joker expertly commanded his wind-up doll.

The inmates here had committed heinous crimes and were extremely dangerous. For the safety of other prisoners and patients, they were confined to this highly guarded area. In theory, the guards’ deployment and monitoring systems should have been the strictest here, but in reality, this area was often left with only high-risk criminals, and the monitoring system was unreliable at best.

The reason there were no guards was that they had been bribed or turned into insiders multiple times—either helping inmates escape or sabotaging the security system, sparking riots within the prison. They had stormed the control room more than once, causing greater chaos, and countless guards had been killed in the high-risk zone.

Due to the high casualty rate, whenever the asylum recruited guards and staff, even addicts desperate for work, homeless people, and gamblers pursued by loan sharks would shudder at the mention of Arkham. Eventually, the asylum quietly relaxed its control over the high-risk zone, allowing inmates a degree of freedom.

The Joker’s cell was a mess, scattered with little trinkets belonging to Batman—his trophies. He enjoyed collecting them, a compulsion of sorts, though he didn’t treasure them much, casually stepping on them.

He bent over the table, tinkering with his cane, modifying and adding small designs, and casually said behind him, “My new toolbox has arrived. Go fetch it for me.”

There was also a hidden secret room in his cell, which he rarely opened before. Usually, it served as storage for his precious collectibles and contraband from the prison. But now, with a child living inside, locking her in there for long would kill her. The Joker wasn’t willing to waste her just yet, so that secret door was frequently opened.

...

Hearing the command, Megan, dressed in thick clothing altered from a prison uniform, crawled out from the corner. A Batman poster was stuck to her head. The Joker turned and stared at her for a few moments, ignoring how ridiculous she looked, then curled his lips and said, “You know, Megan, the entrance to corridor B4.”

Even though some of the guards were on the Joker’s side, they weren’t always assigned to patrol here or willing to come near. So items brought in from outside were usually exchanged at the corridor entrance.

The Joker smiled at her, the corners of his mouth stretching to a terrifying degree, “I’ve taken you there before. You can find the way.”

He truly believed this at first. But then—

He knew Megan quite well; she might have had some impression of the route. After all, being with him had slightly improved her condition, and he had seen everything. However, the Joker suddenly realized Megan never paid attention to the outside world—so—

She didn’t know which path corresponded to ‘corridor B4.’ Despite being in Arkham for several days, he had taken her to the cafeteria, and while communicating with inmates, he always made sure she followed behind. But without instructions, she never once looked up.

And when did the Joker ever carefully point out locations? He had a plaything to amuse himself with, not a real daughter.

Besides, this sick little girl might not even be literate.

The Joker's expression darkened as he stared at her for a long while, then finally said, “Follow me.”

Megan obeyed the order, trailing behind. Small and slow, she had no concept of chasing or hurrying. If the Joker walked too fast and disappeared from her sight, she would gradually stop and wait in place, ‘on standby.’

That was the drawback of having a wind-up wooden doll. But she was quiet and well-behaved, never wailing or throwing tantrums, lacking any self-awareness or independent thought. Yet here with the Joker, she received some measure of care. After all, he didn’t want children; he only needed this obedient and somewhat interesting thing to maintain, at least until his interest faded.

The Joker, in his prison garb, walked ahead. Whenever he reached a corner, he paused to wait for her, showing a hint of consideration. Yet as they passed, the criminals in the cells cast meaningful glances, first at the familiar Joker, then lingering on Megan.

When they passed Two-Face’s cell, he stood at the door watching. Like the others, he knew exactly what kind of madman the Joker was, but his attention was fixed on this ‘outsider’ who didn’t belong here. Yet she was the Joker’s—brought in by him.

The man with one half of his face youthful and handsome, the other half grotesquely scarred by acid, unexpectedly smiled. The unblemished side was gentle and kind, but his tone was anything but polite.

“Joker, you’ve broken the rules here.”

Behind the iron door, weighing dozens of kilograms and impervious even to explosives, he toyed with a coin in his hand. He had no interest in the Joker’s purpose or sudden change of plans, but their little conflict made him want to flip the coin for this child and see what fate awaited her.

The Joker turned back, delighted. He loved to put on a show, exaggerating his farcical, transparent act. “Oh! My dear Harvey, do you also love my Megan?”

Harvey Dent—Two-Face—and the other inmates, including those neighboring him,

They had all seen her.

...

That was the problem.

If a frightened, crying child had been brought in, they wouldn’t have paid her any mind. After all, as the Joker’s plaything, she was not expected to survive long. But Megan was uniquely different.

Yes, she was clearly troubled, as obvious as anything. Like she had no self at all, indifferent and unresponsive to the outside world, only reacting to the Joker. Her eyes saw no one but him.

Honestly, such a rare little thing made many inmates envious. But none had the Joker’s power, nor could they find another child like her. They all knew what other children were like—

Disobedient, prone to tantrums, full of bad habits. Nothing like her, so easy to manage, nor as beautiful.

Two-Face looked at the Joker’s obviously exaggerated fake smile. He was displeased that his possession was coveted, but ever since the Joker brought her in, he had made sure every high-risk inmate knew about her. He should have expected this.

If the toy wasn’t to be shared, then there was only one reason.

He said, “Your daughter... she’s quite something.”

Megan kept her head lowered, her eyes hollow and lifeless. When the Joker said, “Look up, Megan, smile for Uncle Harvey,” she finally lifted her gaze. But it lacked focus and bore no smile.

Both Two-Face and the Joker patiently awaited her response. After a long while, her eyelashes fluttered lightly. Her gaze first fell on the iron door, then slowly rose, seeing Two-Face’s face through the small window.

He chose not to scare her then. Actually, frightening a child with a terrifying expression was no great achievement. The unscarred half of his face wore a gentle smile, a friendly greeting.

“Hello, Megan.”

Her gaze was fleeting, devoid of strength or meaning. She was slowly processing the Joker’s words. The man before her was called ‘Harvey,’ but ‘smile’... she could not comprehend it, lost in deep confusion.

The Joker bent over, clutching his chest as he looked at his pitiful, ill daughter, sighing deeply. “She’s a good child. Be patient with her.” He said this to Two-Face. Megan was a dull creature, someone he allowed contact with, but warned not to harm—doing so would break his heart.

To be honest, the Joker hadn’t brought Two-Face here just to introduce him to Megan. He waved him off, paying him no further mind, and beckoned Megan, “No more delays. Keep up.”