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" I reported the police, I controlled the key administrator who led the way, I set up the traps in the room, I placed the ghosts in the corridors, and I even allowed Lorena to summon demons. All of this was to eliminate you in the boarding school..."

Schiller kept his head buried in the medical records, not even looking up as he commented, "Full of loopholes."

"From the part where you sacrificed Cooper to the demon, there were too many flaws in this plan. When I went to investigate Cooper's death scene, the first thing I saw was the magic circle. At that moment, any normal person would have connected this incident with some mystical factors."

"You revealed the solution right in the riddle. Did you really expect others not to be cautious?"

"The traps in the boarding school were a mess. The behavior of the key administrator was too impatient and goal-oriented. And the trap with the drawer and the key in the room... You intentionally placed a lock on the drawer and then put a visible key in an obvious place."

"If I'm not mistaken, the key itself is not cursed, but the moment you open the drawer, a fatal curse is released from the skull inside."

"You're definitely not an ordinary person." Constantine looked into Schiller's eyes and said, "You didn't open the drawer, but you knew what was inside."

Schiller ignored him and continued, "Do you think this is a computer game? A lock always comes with a key. As long as you have the key, you can open the lock, find clues, move on to the next level. Constantine, I've seen this pattern too many times..."

"After that, you lured us into the basement. Your excuses were unconvincing. No heroic police officer would act like you..."

Schiller looked up and down at Constantine, and Constantine understood his meaning. He tilted his head to the side and said, "Well, I may look like an overly indulgent, drug-addicted junkie. Those overly righteous lines don't match my appearance, but it doesn't matter. Even if I can't kill you, I can still buy time."

"Up to this point, my plan was going smoothly because I had indeed held you back. But what puzzled me the most was..."

"What puzzled you the most was why you failed?"

Schiller stood the pen upright on the table and smiled. "Actually, it's a very common cognitive blind spot. Constantine told me why you think 'Mad Liquor' is really a 'liquor'."

The other three present were momentarily stunned, and Gordon spoke without hesitation, "Why wouldn't Mad Liquor be liquor?"

Schiller raised the pen in his hand and said, "You know what? This is a carrot."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not saying that this pen is a carrot, but I call it 'a carrot.' The name of this pen is 'a carrot.'"

"Your behavior is like a foolish rabbit. You heard that I had 'a carrot' here, so you came hopping over. But this isn't a carrot, it's just a pen called 'a carrot.' So you took a bite, didn't get a carrot, and even broke your front teeth..."

"I named this mysterious liquid that can put people into dreams 'Mad Liquor,' so you really treated it as a kind of liquor, thinking that they would stay peacefully inside the bottle until you uncorked it and drank it."

"Let me give you another example." Schiller threw the pen onto the table and said, "Now, I'll call this mysterious liquid 'hexafluoroantimonic acid.' Would you still rush over to it without thinking and grab that bottle without wearing gloves?"

Gordon shook his head and said, "Although I don't know what that long string of chemical terms means, when I hear that name, I know it must be a dangerous thing. I would choose to go around it."

"You see, that's how it is. I named this liquid 'Mad Liquor,' but it's just called 'liquor.' I never said it would work only when you drink it. This liquid can be absorbed not only through the stomach lining but also through the respiratory tract and skin."

"And the bottle I placed on the bookshelf contains a concentrated solution. It needs to be mixed with regular alcohol to be consumed. Just a slight touch would immediately plunge you into a dream."

"Let me guess, this clever Mr. Constantine thought it was real liquor, so he not only didn't wear gloves when he took that bottle, but he might have even touched the stopper that had some liquor on it, and immediately fell into a dream..."

Constantine turned his head to the side, but Schiller continued, "It's like you set up a series of earth-shattering plans, only to be defeated by not finding a parking space."

"I admit, I underestimated your cunning and madness. So, what do you want?"

"You wanted to meet the Dream Demon Murphys, right? I can help you. I have a shortcut that was dug up earlier, which can save you a lot of effort. But you have to agree to one condition..."

"Go ahead, can it get any worse than this?"

"Since you were the one who killed Lawrence and started the Twelve Disciples serial murder case, you're responsible for finding the killers of Hawk and Ritchie."

Schiller looked at Batman and said, "Let him make amends for his sins first, and then we can judge these killers together. I assume you don't have any objections?"

"I can investigate these two cases on my own."

"Is that so? Seems like you don't have enough assignments..."

Batman remained silent, and Schiller turned to Gordon. Gordon waved his hand and said, "As long as the murderers can be brought to justice, it doesn't matter. Without your help, we wouldn't have been able to catch this magic-wielding guy. So, do as you see fit. After all, you have the experience..."

"Hey, shouldn't you ask for my opinion?" Constantine shook his head and said, "I'm a rock singer, and secondly, an exorcist. I don't investigate cases."

"I heard that you're known as the 'Hellblazer' in the circles. Well, we have a 'Gotham Detective' here and a 'Chicago Detective' too. The three of you detectives can work together, and there shouldn't be any case you can't solve, right?"

"The focus of the Hellblazer is on hell... Well, if that's your requirement, then I'll do my best."

One day later, Batman looked at Constantine, who was slumped in the corner with a hallucinated and vacant expression. He glanced at the other addicts in this den, whose expressions were similar, and suddenly he understood the method Schiller had told him, which was to beat this person whenever and wherever he encountered him, without fail...

"How much did you take?" Batman asked in a deep voice.

Constantine spit out a word from his throat, "Cigarette..."

Batman grabbed his collar and punched him. Constantine regained some clarity and shook his head, saying, "Thanks, that's more invigorating than a cigarette."

Batman let go, throwing him to the ground. Constantine's shoulder bumped against the wall, but he paid no attention. He groped on his body and found a crumpled cigarette box, took out a cigarette, and then asked Batman, "Got a light?"

"When do you plan to investigate the case?"

"Can't you go instead? He won't be constantly watching me anyway. You said it yourself, you can figure it out on your own. So, why don't you go investigate? I'll stay here for a while. Isn't this perfect cooperation?"

"If I could avoid working with you, I wouldn't have seen you here."

"Heh..." Constantine chuckled with a low voice. His cigarette remained unlit, but he held it in his mouth. Leaning against the corner, he looked at Batman and said, "I can tell, you're a very naive boy. Just starting out, leaving your parents not too long ago, full of dreams of being a hero, wanting to strike at criminals and uphold justice..."

"But it won't be long before you realize that there are far more interesting things in this world than that..." Constantine's voice always had a hoarseness to it. He loosened his tie, appearing disheveled.

The lingering hallucinatory and pleasurable effects of the drugs hadn't faded yet, making Constantine seem somewhat mad. He tugged at his collar, looking at Batman and said, "You need to learn to relax a bit. Then you'll be like me, seeing that tiny bit of beauty that still exists in this damn world..."

"My child, why so serious?"

Batman's arm muscles instantly tensed up, and Constantine noticed this detail. He thought his temptation had succeeded, but in the moment he burst into laughter, a fist the size of a sandbag appeared in his field of vision.

Ten minutes later, with a swollen and bruised face, Constantine followed behind Batman, complaining, "What did I say wrong? Even if you're not interested in me, we can still have some fun. You know, I'm an open-minded person..."

Another ten minutes later, Gordon looked at the even more bruised and swollen Constantine and said, "You didn't actually listen to Schiller, did you? Batman, in my opinion, even if he's a criminal, you shouldn't... This is going a bit too far, isn't it?"

"Thank you for speaking up for me, officer. Got a light?"

Gordon took out a lighter from his pocket and handed it to Constantine. Constantine lit his cigarette, took a puff, and after exhaling the smoke, Gordon wrinkled his nose and said, "...God, what did you put in that cigarette? Damn it! Put it down! Are you really smoking in front of a police officer??? Put it down right now!!!"

Another ten minutes later, Gordon stood with his hands on his hips, looking at Constantine slumped in the corner like a pile of rotten mud. He rubbed his forehead and said, "I swear, I really didn't want to hit him, but he crossed the line..."

Gordon pinched the packet of cigarettes, took one out, and after removing the wrapping, he said, "Most people add a little something to the cigarette, but he added a little cigarette to the something. You damn junkie, aren't you afraid of smoking yourself to death?"

Constantine, who was getting high again, chuckled and said, "Tell me, if a demon consumed the soul of a junkie like me, would he also tear his face apart, crying and weeping like those stray dogs on the streets?"

Gordon looked at Batman and said, "He's beyond saving. Even in Gotham, I rarely see someone as rotten as this rotten person."

After saying that, he nodded and said, "Schiller was right. Whenever we see him, beat him up. Can't go wrong with that."

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