I train Batman in a horror world

"Ugh!!!!!"

"I can't write it!"

The great writer Jack slammed his fist on the desk, making a loud bang.

He grabbed the completed novel manuscripts, tore them to shreds, and scattered them on the ground as scraps of trash.

Jack then covered his face with his hands and let out a long sigh.

This shouldn't be the case.

He must have been bursting with inspiration, his ideas flowing freely, and he wrote a brilliant plot. Then, with his excellent writing and gorgeous language, he was sought after by major publishing houses, leaving a strong mark on the history of literature.

From then on, he was crowned with the title of a great writer and reached the pinnacle of his life!

This is how things should have gone!

Instead of not being able to write a single word by now!!!

Jack slumped back in his chair like a lump of mud, letting out another frustrated sigh.

The hotel's environment is so tranquil, perfect for writing.

But why can't I write it?

Jack loosened his hands and placed them on his stomach, his gaze drifting around the space like a fish swimming freely.

Suddenly, he noticed the desk lamp on the desk.

The light emanating from the table lamp was exceptionally bright at this moment.

It's like...

"Snapped!"

Jack suddenly slapped himself. "You should be thinking about the plot, Jack, instead of staring at the lamp like an idiot!"

"..."

The desk lamp dimmed briefly, then returned to normal after a few moments.

Jack, of course, didn't notice this phenomenon.

At that moment, he came up with a brand new idea and actively devoted himself to the creative process.

"Da da da..."

In a corner out of Jack's sight.

Bruce hid behind the threshold, squinting as he watched Jack write.

After a while.

He turned to look at Fowler: "Are all novelists like this? Or is it just him...?"

Fol shook his head: "I don't know, but I've heard that most creative people have some kind of problem."

Bruce nodded in deep agreement.

He had a strange feeling.

That's Jack...

It doesn't seem as bad as I imagined?

Bruce meant that since Wendy had said not to disturb Jack while he was writing.

The atmosphere in that space should be very serious.

But Jack came across as... completely like an idiot.

"Listen, kid, it's a bit unrealistic to expect you to go back right now, but what I want to say is..."

Fowler whispered in Bruce's ear, "If you wake up Jack while he's writing, I won't get involved in what happens afterward. The reason is simple: I'm afraid."

"But I will guarantee your safe passage. If you are ever in any life-threatening danger, I will take you back immediately."

"Until you're ready again, have I made myself clear?"

Bruce nodded solemnly: "I understand, thank you for your kindness."

"..."

He had personally experienced Fowler's cowardice, so there's no need to elaborate.

Similarly, he also believed it was a reminder from Fore.

After all, his actions were indeed somewhat reckless.

He hadn't even figured out what to do after disturbing Jack.

I haven't thought about what to do if I fail to wake Jack up from his writing.

In the future, he must prepare a countermeasure in advance when faced with this situation!

And there's more than one!

......

Jack temporarily put his novel writing aside again.

He was thinking.

Did I just miss something?

Is it inspiration?

For a moment, my mind seemed to be drawn to some inexplicable emotion.

Forget it, I don't want to.

Instead, think about what it would be like if you created a groundbreaking masterpiece!

What should I do when I encounter those enthusiastic female book fans who come to me?

No, Jack!

You already have a wife and children!

But writers are all known for their womanizing ways.

It should be fine.

Jack was thus immersed in his beautiful fantasy.

Bruce tiptoed to the other side of the desk like a kitten without even noticing.

"Knock knock—"

The sound of fingers tapping on the desk jolted Jack awake, and he stared warily at his surroundings.

Damn it!

Didn't I tell Wendy that I shouldn't let anyone disturb me when I'm creating?

But at this moment, there was nothing in sight...

"Look below..."

The sound suddenly rang out, coming from in front of the desk.

Jack straightened his back, raised his head, and glanced at the other side of the desk.

A handsome little boy with a melancholy air came into view.

"Who are you?!" Jack exclaimed in surprise.

"I...wait!? You don't know who I am!?" Bruce's brain froze for a moment!

"Should I know who you are?" Jack asked, puzzled.

Bruce hadn't anticipated this situation.

He had always believed that Jack, like Wendy, would see him as another child of theirs.

Bruce tentatively asked, "Aren't I your son Tony?"

Jack rolled his eyes: "Don't you have parents? You want someone else to be your parent?"

Bruce: ......

Fowler whispered, "In a way, wouldn't you call this facing your fear head-on, kid?"

Bruce roared, "No one will think you're mute if you don't speak!"

"whee!"

"..."

Things have developed in a way that has completely exceeded Bruce's expectations.

Why wasn't Jack affected by the hotel?!

Isn't he the one who should be most affected by the hotel?

"Although I am very unhappy about others disturbing my creative process, I can let it go since you are a child."

Jack stood up, his adult-sized shadow instantly enveloping Bruce.

"Who are you? Why are you in this hotel?"

Bruce was not intimidated by Jack's actions.

He countered, "You have absolutely no feelings for me?"

Jack hissed.

Are all kids these days so neurotic?!

Do you have feelings for him?

Jack scrutinized Bruce for a while.

Hmm...it looks pretty good.

But I'm not a pedophile, so what kind of thoughts could I possibly have?

"Listen, I'm asking you a question, not the other way around!"

The little boy in front of him fell silent, showing no intention of paying any attention to him.

Jack spoke again, his tone menacing:

"Hey! I'm talking to you!"

"Do you have any manners at all?!"

Jack, who had worked as a teacher for a time, knew very well what the key to solving children's problems was!

So he raised his voice even higher and shouted:

"Do you believe I'll call your parents or not?!"

"..."

The boy in front of me finally reacted.

He glared at himself angrily, then stood on tiptoe to peek at the contents of his novel.

"Just scatter some rice on top and let the chickens peck at it a couple of times; that would be better than what you've written!"

"Hey!?"

Jack had never experienced such a shock before!

You can attack him, but you can't attack his novels!

He rolled up his sleeves, ready to show this little brat what an adult's big pussy really looks like!

suddenly.

A sharp female voice rang out!

"Tony!!! ...

The tone sounded somewhat familiar to Jack.

"Wendy?" Jack could hardly believe his wife could make such a sound.

Bruce was also stunned by the sudden scream.

Is this the response to breaking the rules?

But why was it Aunt Wendy who responded?

Wendy's words immediately came to mind.

"If you keep doing this, Mommy's really going to get angry, Tony!"

"Daddy broke Danny's arm like this before, Tony. You have to be good and don't make Mommy angry!"

"Remember this: don't disturb Dad while he's writing, or he'll get angry and there will be serious consequences."

"..."

Sweat streamed down Bruce's face.

No, no, no!!!

Disturbing Jack's writing is a rule.

But once this rule is broken, a new rule will also be broken!

That means Wendy will get angry!

"Snapped!"

Something suddenly slapped my face.

Bruce snapped back to reality and looked at Fowler with a puzzled expression.

Why did you hit me?

"Hit you? I'm telling you to run!"

After saying that, Fore pointed to the corridor ahead.

A slender, graceful figure could be vaguely seen at the end of the dark corridor.

As the figure approached, the lights on both sides of the corridor seemed to be controlled by something.

It flashes on and off.

The figure was getting closer and closer.

Followed by.

The noisy sound of a fire axe scraping against the carpet filled the air.

Wendy's face flickered in and out of focus under the light of the wall lamp.

"Bruce, Mom said not to disturb Dad when he's writing."