Reincarnated as Gotham's beauty trash

It's been three weeks since I've lived at Wayne Mansion.

To be honest, I didn't get much useful information.

On the surface, this family is friendly and suspicious of you like a park built in the center of the city. In fact, it is a declaration form on the desk of a government employee, and it is difficult for you to see what is inside.

If it weren't for the people on the "mother" side repeatedly emphasizing to me that there is something wrong with Bruce Wayne.I almost doubt that I have lived the normal life I dreamed of, reading books and drinking coffee in the garden every day, and being a qualified lady.

It's a pity that, as Wayne's bedmate, there are always things that will give Brussy sweetheart a break.

Such as where he goes at night, such as the occasional scars on his adopted son Grayson, such as the occasional smell of blood wafting from the other side of the bed.

I really wanted to play dumb, but "mother" didn't intend to tolerate my fish in troubled waters.

After being warned, I picked a night when Wayne wasn't with me, got up, stomped my bare feet, and left the bedroom.

The most suspicious room in this home is the study, followed by the attic and the basement.

I chose the study room because I felt that they intentionally or unintentionally did not intend to let me approach it.

I'm like a ghost, literally a ghost, stalking the corridors.The plush rug muffles the last sound of my barely there footsteps.

Living in the dark for so long had gotten me used to night vision, and I took advantage of the darkness to go into a study I hadn't been near since I entered Wayne Mansion.

A wall, a book, they pressed on me from all directions and swallowed me whole.I am like a tiny insect ant in it.

I close my eyes and feel it with my heart.

windy.

Yes, there is a wind here that should not exist.

I groped along the direction of the wind and opened my eyes.In front of you is a wall of books.

It is obviously unrealistic to search for possible organs in so many books, but I have no other choice but to explore the past tentatively.

Pennyworth kept the house so well that there was no dust on every book.

I started thinking about another possibility of looking.

Wayne, he's a very dramatic guy, and I'm guessing his mechanism has something to do with his imprint.Examples include important dates, books that represent thoughts, or catchphrases.

I don't know him very well, at least a little better than the little papers that got around to Gotham.

I read the past book by book.

"The Prince"?

No, Wayne is obviously not someone who wants to get rid of the authority.

"Little Women"?

It's not right, love is definitely at the bottom of his ranking here, and he doesn't have a spiritual core that is very consistent with this book.

"lover"?

This is even more unlikely, skip skip.I can't imagine the look of this kind-faced, hard-hearted muscular man watching "Lover" in tears.

Just when I was hesitating and struggling, my eyes were taken away by the grandfather clock beside me.

I noticed that this ancient desk clock has its dial exposed, which proves that anyone can reach out and move its minutes and seconds hands.

I frowned and reached out to it.

"Lucille." The creak of the door stopped me.

Wayne stood at the door of the study, looking more like a ghost wandering the night than I did.

His hair was disheveled over his forehead, his eyes were dark, and his lips were chapped.It is completely different from the image of the Gotham prince in front of the public.

"Go back to sleep." He said to me, his voice hoarse.

I walked up to him and rubbed his bleeding lips with my hand.

In front of him, I put the fingers that had rubbed his lips into my mouth.

"Aren't you going to sleep?" I asked him, "I can't sleep when I wake up in the middle of the night and can't see you."

He smiled, his smile was more fake than the snowflakes displayed in the summer window, "I go out to relax, you know, I'm always depressed."

"Yes, you are a melancholy boy." I smiled indifferently, walked around him and walked out the door.

"Do you like watching "Lover"?" I asked casually.

He answered me very cooperatively, "I've only seen it once."

"What about "Little Women"?"

"I've read it several times. There are always so many books that I can't finish them."

We walked one after the other on the way back to the bedroom, the fluff of the carpet tickling me a bit.

He glanced at me, "Remember to wear shoes next time, it's getting cold at night."

"Thank you for your concern." I thanked you politely and asked at the same time, "Do you know you have a bruise on your chin?"

He stood facing me, and we observed each other, two poisonous snakes waiting for an opportunity.

Wayne rubbed his chin, "I fell, on the stairs."

I looked at him and smiled, "Probably."

I am thinking about a question.

Why is the person in front of me always so obsessed with so many people, even though Brucey is just an appearance, a fragile, painted skin ghost skin.

Afterwards, there must be something emanating from his soul, passing through the hypocritical shell, beckoning to those in front of him, and attracting them.

If I compare him to something.I would think of Sirens.Dangerous and fascinating legendary creatures.

Give people love, but also give people despair.

Why am I thinking of this?

Is it because I fell into the siren's trap unknowingly, like those sailors sailing on the sea?

I think about what happened the other day.

It had been a long time since autumn, and the weather had turned cooler. In addition, now that the sun is setting, the orange-red sunset coats the buildings, streets and alleys of Gotham, and the coolness is like thousands of invisible needles nailing into the human body.

I gathered up my windbreaker and hurried on the streets of Gotham in the evening.This is a rare moment when I can travel alone, which is convenient for me to connect with my "mother".

Due to the security issues in Gotham, there are few pedestrians on the street.An elderly couple walked slowly arm in arm. The husband held the dog leash in his hand, and their golden retriever pulled them towards home. A loving touch.

I walked behind them for a while, watched them walk into a residential apartment building, and turned to leave when the lights on a certain floor came on.

The wind came in through my neckline, and it was a bit cold. Some of the shops on the street had been locked, while others hadn’t, but employees in uniform could be seen tidying up the shops and preparing to close.

In contrast, neon lights gradually came on, and other shops hung "open" signs.Fall asleep during the day and wake up at night.

I sat on the bench and waited for the connector to arrive.Not long after, a tall and strong man sat on the bench behind me. We were back to back, looking like two unrelated passers-by.

The man pretended to put on the headphones, and said bluntly, "'Mother' is very dissatisfied with you. Your report is too perfunctory."

I whispered, "There is no flaw in their daily life, at least everything is normal in front of me."

"'Mother' will not accept excuses." The man said, "Keep looking, the person appointed by 'Mother' must have his abnormalities."

"Or—" he suddenly lowered his voice, "are you in love with him?"

I remained silent, and the man sneered.He turned around suddenly, and the sharp knife was pressed against my neck, and my throbbing blood vessels were under the blade.

He threatened in a cold tone, "You fell in love with the enemy, and that is our enemy. Have you thought it over clearly, are you going to betray 'mother' for a waste?"

I really want to say that since he is useless, it proves that he has no problems.If he is not a waste, then it is not difficult for me to fall in love with him.

But considering the sharp metal on my neck, I hid my true thoughts, "'Mother' gave me a new life, and anyone who violates the will of 'Mother' will be punished."

This sentence is basically panacea, and the instructors who train us repeat it in their ears at least dozens of times a day.

Also in front of us is the bloody head of the traitor, whose eyes were never closed even in death.I used to have a few moderate nightmares because of this.

Not anymore, I don't dream.

The tip of my nose felt the coolness, and the water splashed on my skin.The man withdrew the blade and whispered threats in my ear, "You know the consequences."

"Don't let 'Mother' down."

I looked up and saw countless drops of water falling from the sky.It's raining, I didn't bring an umbrella, I only wore a slightly thick coat.

The man behind me was nowhere to be found, and I was sitting in the rain, like a drowned chicken in a mess.

The rain fueled my mood, and I looked around, people hurrying home, and occasionally someone glanced over and turned their head quickly.

This being Gotham, kindness is a luxury for the poor.And I'm not as good as the poor, at least they know where they come from and where they go, and what they're going to do tomorrow.

These are answers that are out of my reach.I don't know my past, and I don't know what I can do in the future.

After 'Mother' brought down Wayne, should I go to the next rich businessman's house to find news for my mother?

Or maybe Wayne beat 'Mother' and freed me from her clutches.Even though the odds are slim, what can I do then?

The marriage between me and him is fake, I have no academic qualifications and family, and I have no ability to survive except for a beautiful face and a bunch of messy spy skills.

Maybe I could go to a restaurant and get a job as a waitress, serving plates between tables in a short skirt, standing behind the counter and cashiering.

Just as I was struggling with whether to serve the plate or settle the bill at the cash register, a shadow hung over my head.

I looked up again, and this time what greeted me was not the rain, but an umbrella.

Wayne is standing behind me, where the man who threatened me with the knife was just now.He held up an umbrella to block the growing rain.

"Your clothes are wet." He stated objectively, "You catch a cold easily. I drove here, get in the car."

I was picked up by him disheartened, and I wanted to sit in the back seat, but he opened the passenger door, "It's easier to get the heater."

"Oh."

I obediently sat in the passenger seat and watched him turn on the heater and turn the wind towards me.

The car drove in silence, and he didn't ask me why I came out, or why I was sitting there like a fool in the rain.

I'm embarrassed to say that I still kind of expect him to ask me if I'm cheating or something, which reminds me of a late-night family comedy.

"Lucille." Wayne called my name suddenly and solemnly.

"You deserve a better life," he said, with absolute certainty.

It was at that moment that my heart skipped a beat.

Thinking about it now, I still have a lot of questions.

Is this part of Wayne's acting?Is he out of sincerity, or out of pity for the weak.

I don't need his sympathy, whether the sudden beating of the heart at that time is a sign of being shaken after being deceived and seduced.

None of these can answer me, because the only person who can answer my question asked me this question inadvertently.

I decided to be a smart guy and ask him questions too.If you want to worry, let everyone worry together.

"Do you think lies can bring truth?" I asked, "Your tolerance for me is nothing more than because you believe that you have seen my kindness, and you think I can be saved, so you have a kindness attack and want to pull me out of the fire pit."

"Can you assure me," I stared into his eyes, "that this wasn't part of my plan?"

He didn't speak for a long time, and in the silence of the night, there were only the two of us at the door, in the corridor, and even on this entire floor.

After a while, he opened his mouth and said, "I will tell whether it is true or not."

"You are so arrogant." I said calmly.

This seemed to irritate him, and he was speaking faster, or maybe not, just my imagination.

"Lucille, you've been around since you were eight years old as long as you can remember. They trained you and taught you how to seduce a man with your beauty. Have you ever wondered why they sent you out now? Mission? Have you ever wondered why they treat you differently than other artificial wives?"

I was a little angry, the unspeakable part of my heart was roughly ripped out by him and left to dry in the sun.

"Maybe they just picked someone at random. Mr. Wayne, Bat, you can't guarantee that your guesses are all right, can you?"

"I can't," he admitted frankly, "but I know you belong here, you were never his."

"Lucille Crane, you are the youngest daughter of the Crane family. Your parents died in a car accident before you disappeared. Whether it was an accident or not, I cannot give you a definite answer. But you should have An uncle, your life will not be like this."

"You know now?" I tilted my head, showing my indifference, "I remember that no one in the Kelan family is alive. Where did your inference come from?"

He looked at me without averting his eyes, "I used your DNA sample to match with the samples stored in the hospital database by the Cranes."

"...Wow." I said coldly, "Thank you, but the news is not very happy."

The Cranes died in a car accident before I was adopted by "mother", and Bruce's investigation only confirmed that I was indeed an orphan.

Do I need to be happy?

"You used to have an uncle," he emphasized, grabbing my shoulders, and his tone became more urgent, "He shouldn't have died! Don't you understand, you were taken away from your life by them!"

"Evidence," I pushed him away, "I want to see the evidence."

We are technically hostile, should I believe what he says, think he's on the good side, and help me instead of committing yet another deception?

Will sailors at sea bet on whether the mermaid singing on the reef is the innocent and kind little mermaid in Danish fairy tales, or the vicious and man-eating sirens in legends?

So far, this man has not shown any weakness in front of me.He is a cunning hunter who only attacks and keeps me back.

But he refused to show the slightest possibility of being mastered by me.

There must be back and forth in the dance, and only two people can be regarded as qualified dance partners.

I sat in the living room with only one small light on, closing the papers he handed me.

I took a deep breath and he stood by the window with his back to me.

It was a good time to carry out the assassination, but I knew that if I did, he would squeeze my wrist mercilessly and take my weapon away.

The files were prepared early on, and there was even a transparent folder.

As I said, he was already prepared.

"10:48."

He turned his head.

I repeated, "At 10:48, setting the manor clock in the study to this position will open the passage to your secret cave, won't it?"

10:48, the time when the Waynes were killed.

As I said, he likes to give instructions with special meaning.

"And the dry well in the garden. I noticed that the flowers and plants next to it were almost trampled by you. As a deserted dry well, you took care of it too carefully."

I met his gaze, "That boy is Robin, right, there is no dispute. Let me think, the size of this mansion does not meet your technological needs, and the Batmobile cannot be parked in the parking lot."

I stomped on the carpet with my feet, "It's underground. That's your bat cave. You really are a cave creature. I checked the address of Wayne Manor. The cave? It's very convenient."

He has been looking at me quietly and silently, not commenting on my child's angry speech.

I felt a little boring, so I put my hands on my forehead, "Forget it, it's up to you."

"What do you want to know?"

He didn't answer me, but left the living room in my presence.

Is it time-consuming to communicate with me?

I was a little depressed, "If you don't want to talk to me in a subjective sense, just pretend I didn't say it."

Not long after, just before I got up to leave, there was a loud bang from the kitchen.

I was trembling with fright, and I almost thought that "mother" was going to tear my skin apart and buried me and this non-speaking mammal.

Amid the billowing black smoke, the butler Pennyworth rushed down from upstairs and looked at me in blank dismay.

We stared at each other in embarrassment, and together we witnessed Wayne calmly walking out of the black smoke with a scorched plate.

What's that thing on his plate, a nuclear fusion reactor?

Does he feel that the conversation has collapsed and plans to poison me to death first?

"I don't seem to be very good at dealing with the relationship between the oven and the potatoes." He made amends to himself.

The butler's expression was that of seeing a weed growing in his precious garden.

He raised his eyebrows, "About what time tomorrow can I contact the maintenance workers?"

Wayne still didn't give up, "I can fix it."

"I believe you can do it." Pennyworth nodded perfunctorily. "After all, few people have the ability to make potatoes into military bases. Superman will bow his head for you."

I swear I saw him curl his lips, I wasn't dazzled.

Pennyworth politely and kindly ushered him out of the kitchen and dived heroically into the black smoke.

Wayne, like a kid in trouble, sat next to me with his hands tied.

I couldn't hold back my curiosity, and tentatively said, "If you want to reduce my combat power, there is a better way. I will accept tranquilizers and the like."

Pausing there for a moment, not only deliberated but also replied helplessly, "I just want to make you a cup of hot coffee, it will make you feel better after drinking it."

Do you serve a Martian potato for coffee?

His expression remained unchanged, and his lips buzzed and told me in a low voice, "Dick probably put the potatoes in the oven. He probably wanted to get something for himself while Ah Fu wasn't paying attention."

"What about his people?"

Wayne's voice dropped a pitch, "Forget it." He added, "Maybe hanging out with a good friend."

It's not an illusion, he definitely accentuated the group of words good friend.

"...so where's the coffee?"

He looked at me innocently, and I realized that Wayne's friendship drink had probably hit GG in the kitchen.

"If you don't mind that the glass might smell of smoke, and I poured the frothed milk into the tray with shaking hands..."

"Excuse me, thank you, you're welcome."

What follows is relatively simple.

It cannot be said in the same way, how we escape from the control of "mother", how to travel between cities, and fight with a group of killers is not easy to say.

The easier part is the emotional part, because we don't have time to think.We are just angry, wondering, racking our brains, solving problems.

In the end, the "mother" collapsed, Bruce took a little girl who had been hidden in an underground cave for training, and we both ended up in the hospital.

Here I am not using the identity of Wayne's wife, and the outside world is unaware of my existence.I'm just an unlucky ordinary patient who was robbed and brought in for treatment.

The only good thing is that my identity has been moved to the public. It is not realistic to appear as an orphan of the Kelan family. This family did not leave me much property inheritance under the toss of "mother".

Lucille Crane, as said above, was an ordinary-looking blonde.

My situation is better than Wayne's. After a week, I can run and jump. At this time, he is still lying on the hospital bed, waiting for his adopted son to bring him food.

Our ward is opposite to each other, and I would occasionally drop in in my hospital gown and laugh at the pitiful ability of this rich man to peel apples.

"You're free," he said to me. "Any ideas for a new life?"

Sitting on a chair in the ward, I thought carefully, "Maybe I will wash dishes in a restaurant, or cashier in a coffee shop."

He looked at me, hesitant to speak.

I smiled at him, "I'm an adult and can take responsibility for my own life, you don't need to worry about everything about me, good man."

"It's not for this reason." He only said one sentence silently, and swallowed it back in the middle of the sentence.

I didn't want to do reading comprehension for his thoughts, so I waved him, "Goodbye, have a good rest."

I didn't tell him that I was going to be discharged soon, packed up my nonexistent luggage, and tiptoed out of my ward.

I was still hesitating whether the medical bills of the hospital could be paid on credit, but after asking, I found out that Wayne had settled it for me a long time ago.

As far as the prophet is concerned, he is as annoying as ever.

After leaving the hospital, I took my new social identity and started a self-reliant life.

I didn't serve the dishes or cashier, I was in the bookstore to help others watch the store door.

The place where he lives is in a small attic two blocks outside the bookstore. The environment is dirty and messy. Every night when he returns home, there is a chance that he will bump into a man who comes to beat him up.

I can understand, after all, some people in this world have no eyes, and some people have no mouth.

My life and his seem to be separated from here.He is the darling of the headlines by day and a vigilante by night.

And I am a poor bookstore clerk no matter day or night.A year's salary is not as expensive as this hairspray.

In fact, not many people would come to the bookstore. The boss was kind and would take in some children whose mothers went out to work in the slums and had no one at home. They came to do their homework after school.

Sometimes I get harassed by hooligans here, and it is because of my good skills that the boss took me in as a clerk with poor hands and feet.

Some of the books here can be borrowed for free, and I will look through them when there are no guests.

When the weather is fine and the sun shines on the counter, I will put my meager ID cards on the table and count them one by one.

I don't hate this kind of life, I like and enjoy it.The intrigue and exploitation part went away from me, cut out of my life.

I have no contact with him again.Occasionally, I would have the illusion that a customer who came to the store was his disguise, but after careful observation, I was sure that the guy was just here to buy homework for the children in the family.

Is his kid going to learn calculus by now, seriously?

One day when I took out my precious documents to look up, I found dust in the card case.

I took out my ID card and was going to wipe it with a piece of paper, when a note fell out of the card case and floated in my hand.

There is no signature, but a string of phone numbers on it, and a small hospital stamp can be seen on the edge of the paper.

I looked at it for a moment, picked up the note, crumpled it up, and threw it into the trash can.

Then I used the second-hand mobile phone I saved to buy, and dialed the string of phone numbers.

After a long ringing, someone connected.

I preemptively said, "I watched Lover and now I understand why you only watched it once."

There was only the sound of shallow breathing.

I put my feet on the counter and lay down lazily in the creaky old office chair, "There are also "Little Women" and "The Prince". I still prefer to read mystery novels."

"Really?" The other side finally replied, "Doctor Glass, you can go and see it."

"Okay." I replied.

There was only the sound of the wind, and the threatening snort of stray cats fighting for territory outside the window.

Wayne's breath fluctuated a little, and he said softly, "I've been... waiting for you to call."

I spread out my hands in the sun, my hands full of calluses from training.

For a moment I thought I caught the sun.

"You've waited." I replied, "Would you like to come over to search for books next time?"