Laughing American comics, I am becoming more and more like a clown

But that's the way it is, especially since this is a world created by comics, movies, TV series, and novels...it cannot change on its own, and change only comes from external forces.

"When will I become you?" Lucien asked.

"After I disappeared?"

"Will I meet myself again?"

"Perhaps?" The clown laughed, "This is something that can only be encountered by chance... You are my rare luck."

He seemed like a normal person: "You know, there are some problems in my heart, but no matter what, when you know that there is someone who truly loves you... you will understand the beauty of that moment."

"Are other clowns like this too?"

"Not necessarily." The clown explained patiently:

"You were just a piece of clay at first... In this form, you have a lot of plasticity. All the clowns will regard you as their past, but fortunately, I met you first... and then I began to shape you."

"Every time you admit, whether truly or falsely, that you're a clown, you're one step closer to me... You go from real to fake, and from fake to real... It's like childbirth, like clay being refined in a kiln, until the moment you fall in love with me and hate me at the same time—this is as it should be, we all end up like this, hating ourselves and loving ourselves at the same time."

"But at that point, you become a piece of ceramic... you no longer have the chance to become another clown."

"Some clowns will love you for your likeness, some will ignore you, and some will try to break you and hurt you."

……

From beginning to end, the Joker never treated Lucien as a complete person.

"Then how can I not be you?"

So Lucien asked.

"My dear, guess why I use the metaphor of porcelain." The clown's expression was both compassionate and cruel:

"The meaning of ceramics is that even if you smash yourself, crush yourself, and grind yourself into powder... you will always be ceramic, and you will always be in my shape."

……

He did not save me from death, nor from suffering and sin, he only saved me from happiness.

—Marguerite Yourcenar

……

This is the core purpose of the Joker... This is not a harmless character that plays with deception and ambiguity.

He was just better at disguising himself and more reserved, revealing his murderous intent only when he had bitten his prey's neck and the outcome could not be changed.

……

"If I'm not mistaken, you've already sensed the influence I've exerted on you when you were with Bruce Jr., right?" The Joker shook his head.

"You've abandoned everything just to find an origin strong enough to resist my influence... Honestly, you're quite decisive. It's a pity." He smiled, "It's a little late."

"It's not just late... you also misjudged your own psychology. You didn't take depression seriously, right?"

"This disease is so common, so insignificant among a group of mental illnesses, that you tend to overlook its lethality."

The indifference to the world brought about by depression is particularly obvious when the surrounding pressure decreases sharply and there is no memory.

This made Lucian unable to fit in.

……

He didn't speak.

Lucien couldn't blame himself...it had to be like this, what else could he do?

Then he asked, "What happens next? Will you replace me? Resurrect in my body? Or will I eventually become you?"

"You will eventually become me... This is already a motto, an established fact." The clown stood up and walked towards the sea.

The voice came from afar, like the truth engraved on the level of rules:

"You will eventually possess my personality, my wisdom, my physique, my world... You will eventually possess everything of mine!"

He walked into the waves, into the sea, where soft ripples floated his tattered clothes and white foam washed away the bloodstains...

He walked in, from the feet, to the legs, to the waist, to the chest, to the neck, to the mouth and nose... until the last seaweed-like hair.

He was like the little mermaid in the fairy tale who turned into foam... and disappeared.

……

Only Lucian was left here, in a disheveled, loser-like manner, his gaze fixed on the eternal sunset in the distance, copper-red, like pouring magma.

He remembered a passage from "The Hunchback of Notre Dame":

"At this moment, he has been elected as the Pope of Fools and is parading on a sedan chair made of colorful brocade. Surrounding him are noisy crowds who mock this ugly monster with ridiculous praise..."

"The last rays of the setting sun illuminated this pathetic revelry and shone on his distorted face."

"This was originally the sunset, but we mistook it for the dawn!"

----

Tragedy is never the worst day. What is really bad is the day that is like a nightmare, lingering, inescapable, and eternal.

It is a written, fixed, and unchangeable ending.

Chapter 119 Kill me

Catwoman is dead.

Or rather, Harley Quinn is dead.

Die in the evening, when the dusk is beautiful.

- She committed suicide by inserting the knife into her brain through the only remaining eye socket. She killed the last beautiful thing in her life with her own hands.

……

And on the windowsill there was a letter with a poem written on it:

[Come and cling to me forever, no matter what you become.

Drive me crazy, but please don't leave me in this abyss where I can't find you.

----

This makes perfect sense.

Harley Quinn, disguised as Catwoman, discovered the difference after shaping Lucien into the Joker, and became completely disappointed, eventually committing suicide.

No one can say anything.

……

Is that right?

……

Lucien, dressed in black, stood in the room where the urns of famous people were stacked, watching Oswald place the new one in the reserved space.

No matter how glorious these people were when they were alive, they are now sitting here in dull and pathetic silence.

Lucian's eyes swept over the names one by one - Man-Bat, Firefly, Two-Face, Scarecrow, Welding Dog Man... He didn't recognize any of them, or rather, these names were just symbols to him. He knew their glory, but could not touch it.

Oswald wiped his glasses with a handkerchief and leaned on his iconic umbrella in the other hand. He had already taken off his top hat, revealing his sparse head, which was also a mixture of black and white.

This arms dealer, who was chasing profits, began to sigh with rare emotion:

"These psychopaths... they messed up Gotham and even lost their lives for it."

"I've said it before, madness won't last long... They'll all die."

The umbrella head fell to the ground with a dull sound, and he turned and left... The short penguin man had a hunched shadow.

Lucian watched his back disappear, slowly raised his eyebrows, and involuntarily let out a short chuckle from his throat. The solemnity and seriousness on his face disappeared, and he even looked a little relaxed.

…He didn’t leave, but walked over to the nearest box and tapped his fingertips on it, as if he was testing the sound of an unfamiliar piano.

But as he moved, his fingers became lighter and lighter, and even his footsteps were following a certain rhythm.

Maybe a tango, maybe a waltz.

Maybe hip-hop, maybe waltz.

The broken tone was accompanied by a drunken posture... He was like Arthur dancing alone in front of the mirror after killing the Wall Street elite in 2019.

This is also true...

……

He knocked on Harley's door... She looked at the man in front of her who looked like a wet puppy in surprise: "What's the matter?"

Lucien heard Beethoven's Fifth Symphony: Fate playing in the room.

Known for its strong rhythm and melody, it expresses the struggle against life.

Lucian then smiled, somewhat sadly and confusedly: "Please... can you tell me who I am?"

Harley understood what "Joker" meant, and naturally understood the source of his emotions at the moment, and couldn't help but feel pity for him.

Then the door closed behind them.

……

Lucian's fingers moved through Scarecrow, Poison Ivy, Slipknot, Killer Croc... and landed on the brand new box belonging to Harley Quinn.

……

He was jealous of the Joker… How could he not be jealous of the Joker?

His Jenny is fake, but the Joker's Harley is real.

……

To avoid being interrupted, Harley paused the song about fighting against fate.

The wheelchair turned to face Lucien. She said gently, "Dear, you know... you won't find the answer from me."

She was one of the murderers who caused Lucien's identity confusion, and even Lucien should hate him.

"I'll just tell you—you're a clown."

Despite this, Harley still treats her child like a mother...Lucian is not the clown she wanted, but he is the clown she hatched with her own hands. In a sense, they can be called mother and son.