Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics

The pale knight felt something was amiss, especially upon seeing the third identical vending machine at the entrance of his office.

Firstly, he never drank sodas. Secondly, he didn't have any coins. Lastly, even teenagers who particularly enjoy hitting vending machines wouldn't need three identical machines to serve as punching bags.

But this was just the beginning.

There was a recreation room opposite the Mayor's office, normally inaccessible to others, primarily used for entertaining guests.

On the first day, a pool table was moved into the recreation room, but for some unknown reason, another was brought in today.

The pale knight went to check and found only one pool table inside; the previous one had disappeared.

Most absurdly, on the third day when he came to work, he saw someone moving another pool table inside, yet there was still only one table inside.

The three vending machines at the entrance had also disappeared.

The pale knight was almost convinced he was seeing ghosts.

These past few days, he hadn't even processed any official documents, instead camping out at the entrance to his office, observing what was being moved in daily.

At first, it seemed normal, just pool tables, dartboards, and tabletop football games. Later, it started changing to vases, tea sets, and statues stored inside wooden crates.

Though not a wealthy man, the pale knight was not ignorant; those items clearly looked expensive.

The key issue was that these items only entered and never left, and would disappear from the room within a day.

The pale knight almost believed there was a mini black hole opposite his office.

He asked his assistant what was happening, and the assistant merely told him it was a normal procurement. He further inquired about where the procured items were going, and the assistant said they were normal losses. When he asked why they were lost, the assistant suggested that he should take a good rest.

This plainly illogical response made the pale knight even more suspicious.

By the fourth day, he couldn't stand it any longer; he didn't leave after work, choosing to stay at the office entrance, determined to see where these items ended up.

Turned out it really was haunted. After a thin mist passed through, the items just vanished into thin air.

The pale knight rubbed his eyes repeatedly, unable to discern what was happening, and when he checked the surveillance, it had captured nothing.

But at that moment, the pale knight suddenly recalled a rumor circulating in Gotham, about the haunting at Arkham Asylum.

It was said that the previous director, Tuck, had died in such a horrible manner that his ghost was trapped inside Arkham Asylum, continually harassing those trying to enter the asylum. Apparently, it had driven several people insane.

The pale knight almost immediately guessed, it must be Shiller's doing.

He called Shiller, expecting to argue back and forth, but Shiller admitted outright: "I took those items, they're currently stored in the director's office at Arkham Asylum."

The pale knight was stunned by his brazenness. Holding the phone, he asked, "Why did you take those things?"

"Because you didn't want them."

"How could I..."

"Oh, so you did want them? Then I'll return them."

"No!" The pale knight hastily interjected. His office was already crammed with a huge coffee machine; adding four large pool tables, three vending machines, two tabletop football games, and a dozen vases—where would he even stand? Hang them on the balcony?

"I don't want them." The pale knight emphasized again, saying, "I just want to know why you're doing this."

"Why do you care why I am doing this?"

"How can I not care? I..."

"Did it spend your money?"

Shiller's question choked the pale knight. Indeed, it hadn't cost him any money because he had none.

"But you can't use municipal funds to buy these, right?"

"Why can't I?"

"This money should be used on..."

"Can you decide who gets to use it?"

The pale knight was left speechless again, because he indeed couldn't decide. These donated funds were controlled by the elite.

"Fine, but since you can get them to buy these things for you, can't you buy something more useful?"

"Firstly, they're not buying it for me, but for you."

"Huh?"

"Weren't these items sent to the Mayor's office?"

"But I didn't accept them."

"You did accept them, you just didn't want them, so I took them away."

"I didn't accept them!"

"But you didn't refuse them either."

"This can't be considered acceptance, because these will ultimately stay in the city hall for the next mayor..."

At this point, the pale knight faltered, as these items weren't in the city hall anymore. Forget the next mayor; he himself couldn't get a handle on the situation.

"How exactly did you persuade them to buy these for you?"

"Once again, they're not buying them for me, but for you. They're naturally happy to buy them for you, so you can play and not work diligently. They want to corrupt you with money."

The pale knight opened his mouth to speak: "But how could I use up four pool tables in two days? Don't they find that absurd?"

"It's simple, you're a psychiatric patient. When you have a flare-up, you can't control yourself and you love smashing things. It's normal to have larger losses."

"But I'm already cured! Wasn't it you..."

"Don't talk nonsense, don't talk nonsense! Who told you you're cured? I'm a professional psychiatrist, and I say you're not well. I've already issued a professional diagnostic proof for you. Even if they take you to court, you won't have to pay."