I've been to your study and seen many linguistics books. Your computer is rarely shut down; when it wakes from sleep, I can see desktop icons, including online translation software. Based on the various subject assignments you've submitted in the past, analyzing your word usage habits, considering the extraordinary efficiency of the Quantum Ghost, it wasn't difficult to identify your account." Timothy felt no shame for casually doxing someone, was even proud of it: "So, can your pen really write the answers by itself?
Maybe. Sometimes, before my brain has even thought of the answer, my hand has already written it out on its own, writing by hand brings me special inspiration." Colt also had many questions. "So, are you doing this to give me money? Or did you have feelings for me back then? Did you write that love letter yourself?
This is a life-and-death question.
Timothy held Colt's waist, applying a bit of pressure to pull him onto his lap, kissed the corner of his eye: "Nothing can escape your eyes; you are a high-dimensional observer, Reader."
Colt glared at Timothy: So it was all just to give away money, you only had a slight interest in him, the love letter was written by an AI!
Timothy thought for a moment, then added, "I wrote the underlying code for the AI that writes love letters."
Colt leaned into Timothy's embrace, finding the embrace truly warm, decided to sentence him to probation: "Write me a handwritten love letter, at least 1,000 words long, because you deceived me—you said you weren't Wayne."
He didn't even say "deceived my feelings," perhaps he thought it was merely a financial transaction.
Timothy really wanted to ask whether Colt would choose him or a life-sized golden man if they were placed together. Well, considering he could produce Dream Treasure Chests, Colt would likely choose him.
Timothy worked hard on composing a love letter, while Colt adjusted his posture and continued to nestle in his arms, watching the virtual light screen projected from the Quantum Terminal, building models and analyzing data based on the information obtained from the Spiritual Power scan.
The alarm went off every hour, he would get up to stretch, using Spiritual Power to scan Barbara in the next room to obtain detailed data to enrich his models.
Timothy also took the opportunity to sneak into the kitchen for some coffee.
Colt went home for a visit this morning, while preparing breakfast for Joseph, he made a few extra portions and asked Joseph for permission to borrow his laboratory.
Joseph was dissatisfied with his son always cooking for others, so he huffed and puffed while slicing and toasting bread, exchanging a basket of simple sandwiches for the cola chicken wings his son had made, intending to save them for lunch while some people could just eat bread.
Joseph asked, "What kind of experiment are you doing?"
Colt sent him a complex chemical molecular structure diagram, then squeezed a large glass of juice and tossed a vegetable salad, leaving two lettuce leaves for Birdie before adding the dressing.
Joseph frowned at the screen. "You're making medicine, something to promote cell activity and promote rapid healing.. I've never seen these two molecular formulas before. What are they?"
One is a special energy similar to Spiritual Power, the other is a divine active substance," Colt said while peeling corn kernels for Birdie. "Both special energy and divine active substances are hard to find, so I want to find replicable substitutes based on their elemental attributes.
I suggest you try refining Poison Ivy's plants. Bruce has a collection, Timothy can definitely get his hands on them," Joseph said, setting down his computer. "So, your new direction is biomedicine? Is it that you don't like Quantum Physics?
"Studying the High-Dimensional World is cool, but I just happened to get a special medicinal liquid, someone is willing to cooperate with the experiment. It's almost time for the follow-up checkup, so I'm heading over first. You go ahead and keep busy, Dad. If anything comes up, just call me from next door." Colt hugged the insulated bag and rushed out with his basket in hand.
"It's New Year's Eve tonight, so you aren't allowed to stay out overnight. You better come back to celebrate with us, do you hear me?" Joseph looked at Colt's retreating figure, then glanced at the chemical molecular structure diagrams on the computer.
My son doesn't forget to study even when he's in love; such spirit is worthy of praise. But besides being more lively and rebellious, he is still immersed in his studies every waking moment, just like before.
"Is Drake up to the task?" Joseph muttered to himself.
..
Colt finished the twelfth full-body scan for Barbara and announced the results of the twelve-hour observation: "The activity of the rapid-growth cells has not diminished, the alien energy has not regenerated, the protective film has formed. The curse will not reappear within a year."
The girls cheered and embraced, hugging Colt's projection so vigorously that it crackled, they pulled out the static of old film reels before tossing Timothy into the air.
Barbara sent messages in the Bat Family group chat and called her family.
Colt and the other girls calmed down and offered a suggestion: "Human thought is a form of power. If you can carve the concept of 'you are very healthy' into someone else's cognition within the one-year protection period, the curse will lose the soil it needs to exist."
Barbara said she would consider it.
Colt nodded. "You can go home now. For the next week, the surveillance will be once a day. We'll agree on a location tomorrow morning; Tim will take me to find you."
Barbara's gait was no longer stumbling; although slow, it was steady enough. She walked slowly up to Colt's projection and gave the cold-looking virtual figure a gentle hug.
Thank you, Colt.
Colt controlled the projection to pat her on the back. "You're welcome. I don't have a medical license or a pharmacist's license, so thank you for being willing to be a volunteer for the experiment. If I can replicate this medicinal liquid, you will have played a part in it as well."
I'm very glad I trusted Tim's guarantee." Barbara took out a signed authorization form. "I am fully authorizing you to use my bodily data; you can write it in your paper as you please and list me as Volunteer No. 1.
Colt liked this token of gratitude. Although he wouldn't publish any papers, since he didn't need to keep the data confidential, he could take the models directly to Tony for guidance. Tony's genius mind always provided him with inspiration.
After seeing Barbara off, Colt was busy organizing data, enriching the data models, recording the human body's reactions to different components in the medicinal liquid. This was a massive undertaking involving 40 trillion cells, causing even the Quantum Terminal to experience slight delays in processing speed. Colt felt as though he had exhausted his brain, he slumped over the desk to let his aching head cool down.
Timothy approached, his warm palm stroking Timothy's forehead before switching to pressing his forehead against Timothy's.
Colt wanted to say it was fine, that his Spiritual Power was still abundant and it was just a matter of heavy mental exhaustion. But his brain refused to function, his thoughts were so slow that he couldn't even trigger the process of converting text into speech; the cursor flickered in his mind before slowly fading away.
He managed to lift his eyelid halfway.
A light kiss landed on his eyelids, accompanied by a soothing, gentle voice: "Sleep, I am here."
Colt closed his eyes and truly fell asleep. This time, he didn't have those chaotic dreams, nor did he think of any memories that would leave him trembling with fear. As his consciousness gradually cleared, the world was quiet. The Spacetime Signal Stabilizer and the Spiritual Power guide were still there, but the hearing aid and the Quantum Terminal had been taken off.
Colt hugged the familiar Cole Duck tightly, burying his face in the pillow and smelling the faint, bitter aroma of coffee. The loneliness brought by the extreme silence was replaced by tranquility and peace, even his Spiritual Power felt too lazy to move.
The bitter aroma of coffee seemed to be mingled with the scent of roses.
Colt twitched his nose.
The fragrance was quite strong; in addition to the scent of the rose, there was also the smell of perfume.
Colt finally opened his eyes and saw a rose lying by his pillow, with an envelope pressed beneath it.
He sat up abruptly.
On the high-quality blue envelope, it was written: "To be opened by Colt Drake," in Timothy's handwriting.
Colt tucked a budding red rose into the buttonhole of his pajamas. Without thinking about how he had changed into them, he picked up the envelope and sniffed the perfume on it. He didn't know much about perfume—he couldn't distinguish between top notes or base notes—he just knew the scent wasn't cloying or overpowering. It was like clean lake water; it smelled quite nice.
He broke the wax rose seal, revealing a long love letter inside.
[Dear Colt:
This is a love letter.
My literary talent is somewhat lacking; when I think about writing love letters, my mind is left with nothing but good morning, good afternoon, good evening, sweet dreams. I truly wish I could say these things to you every single day, I hope that every time I open my eyes, I see you.
I won't apologize to you, whether it was secretly investigating your identity, intentionally approaching and testing you, or deceiving you by pretending I wasn't a Wayne.. I won't apologize, but I am willing to say "I love you" ten thousand times to make amends. Once in the morning, once at noon, once at night, once more in my dreams. Calculated at Bank of America's historical high annual interest rate of 21%, with compound interest, I would have to keep "repaying" it until the day I close my eyes for the last time.
Colt, you know. I became Red Robin because Batman lost his second Robin. Nightwing was unwilling to return, Batman needed a Robin, so with Penny's help, I put on that uniform.
I think I did a pretty good job; I fulfilled my responsibility to hold things together for Batman. When Nightwing chose to let Damian be his Robin, I felt anger deep down, but his choice wasn't wrong—Damian needed that kind of "tether." So, I chose to become Red Robin and successfully brought Batman back. I did what I wanted to do, I will always be proud of myself.
I never told anyone that during that time, I was at the lowest point of my life; mental anxiety and physical issues made my sleep extremely poor. I felt my heart becoming numb, that detective's curiosity was dying. I wasn't obsessed with being a vigilante; Batman's return, the shift in the tension with Red Hood—Red Robin was not indispensable to Gotham.
I had considered leaving, then you appeared.
On the day of the opening ceremony, you appeared in the auditorium. You walked into my world like a protagonist on a stage under a spotlight, practically glowing. Of course, I later realized it was your Spiritual Power that was glowing. But it wasn't the light that mattered; it was how you made my numb heart beat wildly and brought my dead curiosity back to life.
You look at me as if I am your entire world; I don't think anyone could remain calm under the gaze of your Violet eyes.
I tried to unravel the mystery of Ghost, while you proactively handed the clues to me. On a Thursday evening during the first week of school, you opened the first Dream Treasure Chest; our connection deepened, the erased memories suddenly returned, reminding me of our past.
My heart felt as if it were being squeezed by something, my emotions were frozen.
Colt, what does it feel like to be forgotten by the world? Are you afraid? Are you lonely? Is the connection a cry for help to me?
When I discovered that you had no memories of the past, I was even relieved that you had forgotten as well, because the pain of being ignored by a stranger is less than the pain of being ignored by an acquaintance or a friend.
Your memories are returning, you are gradually remembering more, including the memories from before you became Colt Drake. You occasionally confuse me with a fictional character, but you have never denied my reality, you are even willing to share with me that you are the [Reader]. I am so overjoyed that you are drawing closer to me, that you choose to take my hand, I will hold onto you, I will never let go.
I love you, Colt, not because of a detective's curiosity, nor because of Red Robin's surging desire to save others, I simply love you.
I love your beautiful face, I love the way your eyes always gaze at me, I love how you always respond to me in time. I love your gentleness and your bravery, your selflessness and your honesty, I love how you walk from dreams into reality..
Please believe that no matter what happens in the future, my love will never fade. If you want to blow up Arkham, I will block Batman for you, let us become accomplices.
That's all for now.
Yours truly, Timothy Drake.
December 31st, afternoon.
Colt engraved every single word and every punctuation mark into his mind.
When he asked for a love letter, he never expected to receive such a surprise! Timothy's literary talent was not any less than his detective talent; this love letter was far more sincere and touching than any roses, gemstones, or moonlight!
Colt couldn't wait to give Timothy a hug, a kiss, or even more..
He didn't even bother to put on his shoes as he rushed out of the room.
In the downstairs hall, Alfred was processing ingredients, while members of the Wayne family came and went, some washing vegetables and others tending to the grills, all busy preparing a grand feast.
Dick, Jason, Cassandra, Stephanie, Duke, Damian.
Colt counted the heads, but couldn't find Timothy.
He returned to the room, picked up the hearing aid and quantum terminal neatly placed on the bedside table and put them on, followed by the positioning watch.
Timothy was in the garage, discussing with Bruce and Joseph that the ray gun for the Leap Mech—the specialized ray gun for the mech—was five meters tall and weighed 300 kilograms, with the accompanying spare power pack adding another 100 kilograms, an ordinary person wouldn't even be able to lift it.
While listening to the discussion in the garage, Colt searched for the place where the love letter was hidden, but his Spiritual Power scan suddenly stalled when it scanned the inside of the drawer.
There were some sanitary products in the drawer! Items needed when a couple takes things to the next level! Joseph had prepared a full set of similar items for Colt as well.
Colt's heart was pounding like a drum.
He naturally had intimate contact with Timothy as well, but it was all progressing step by step according to the dating schedule, currently at the stage of mutual assistance. At most, they had progressed from using hands to using mouths, for the time being, there was no need for tools.
"It's nothing; I would only need to worry if Tim had no expectations and was completely unprepared," Colt thought to himself.
He took a deep breath, hid the love letter in the crevice between the wall tiles at the head of the bed, walked calmly toward the garage.
Timothy spotted him the moment Colt poked his head in, so he imperceptibly changed his posture and secretly beckoned him with a finger.
Bruce noticed Timothy's eyes suddenly light up, the faint sense of death in his emotions vanishing without a trace. He became lively and joyful, his hands tucked behind his back, fingers seemingly beckoning something, the sweetness on his face was completely unmistakable.
Tsk, young people.
Bruce cleared his throat, announcing the end of the discussion: "I'm going to check on the kids; they'll probably be fighting each other soon."
"Leave Timothy behind.." Joseph was speaking when he looked up and met his son's flushed face.
Not only was his face flushed, but his eyes were watery and shimmering, his hair was disheveled, he was barefoot, wearing pajamas that were clearly a size too large, with a red rose tucked into the buttonholes of his collar.
What did Timothy Drake do to you?!
Joseph wanted to roar.
Colt held Timothy's hand and looked at his father with wide eyes; although he said nothing, everything was written in his eyes.
Joseph covered his forehead and waved his hand. "Timothy, just go take a look. Bruce, come back here and move this over to my side to test it."
The way he commanded his boss so confidently made one worry whether he would still be able to go to work at the company normally after the New Year.
Bruce glanced at Timothy, who was running off happily, picked up the ray gun used by the Leap Mech.
He carried it! He actually carried 300 kilograms! Is he even human?!
Oh, so Bruce is Batman, then there's no problem!