Why does the sun rise in the east and set in the west?
Silo didn't really care much about the direction the sun rose from, because to him, the sun itself represented danger and weakness, so it didn't matter to him where this kind of weapon came from. After all, no matter which direction a missile came from—east, west, north, or south—you'd still have to fly into the sky to dodge it, right?
But when all your common sense tells you the sun rises in the west and sets in the east, and you inadvertently notice it rising from the complete opposite direction than usual, anyone would feel confused.
…Where the hell did they send me? Is the world about to end or something?
That was Silo's first thought.
And the second thought that flashed through his mind was—this is rare, I should get a good look at it.
But because the sunlight in Metropolis was too scorching, Silo was somewhat resistant to it, and in Gotham it was too hard to see—by the time you spotted the sun, it was already hanging high in the sky, with no reference value or aesthetic appreciation. Silo, who hadn't had any particular thoughts about it before, got stirred up by this, and coincidentally ran into a few days of bad weather, so his temper flared up—the more he couldn't see the sunrise, the more he insisted on seeing it.
Tim didn't know about Silo's mental journey. He'd just pulled an all-nighter, and his brain involuntarily stalled for a moment when he heard the question.
"Do I need to explain this through astronomy, or is this actually a philosophical question?" Tim tilted his head, meeting the gaze of the teenager hiding under the black umbrella—though the process was still obstructed by a domino mask and glasses.
"Quantum mechanics?" Silo muttered silently.
"What?" Tim didn't catch it, and the shadow of the umbrella happened to blur his lip movements.
"I do know at least that much, I'll have you know. As for philosophy—well, if I had to make a connection, the only philosophical confusion I've ever had was about my own birth," Silo replied.
"Right now I'm just marveling at how interesting the world is—completely opposite to the knowledge I was fed before."
Silo's choice of words was a bit strange, and Tim sensed something off. But that anomaly was explained once Tim investigated and found out that "Silo Sunlight" had never actually attended school in Metropolis due to health reasons.
This even further explained the other issues Tim had noticed in Silo.
Whether someone has prolonged contact with society does leave visible differences—the sense of dissonance Silo Sunlight carried probably stemmed from that.
Alfred stood behind Tim holding a tray, back straight, the lean old man lifting his chin and lowering his eyes. "I thought you were aware, sir, that getting to know a friend should be done through interacting with them, not by privately investigating their past, Master Tim."
Tim's body stiffened. He blinked, turned around to look at the old butler who had walked over, and let out a dry laugh: "A-Alfred? Good morning…"
"Good morning. It seems you do remember that you need to report to school today." Alfred calmly made a gesture of checking the time, paused briefly, then continued: "You have 23 minutes before you're late for class."
"Okay Alf, no problem Alf, I'm going right now!" Tim dashed off from the Batcave in a flash, quickly changing out of his uniform in the process.
Watching the lively little bird run off, a faint smile flickered across Alfred's face. But when he saw the middle-aged man walking down with a yawn, Alfred's smile faded. He looked at the encrypted files that had been tucked away on the Batcomputer and shook his head helplessly: "It seems Master Tim must learn to filter whether what he's studying is suitable for him. What do you think, Master Bruce?"
Bruce's yawn paused mid-motion. He looked somewhat bewildered and tentatively responded: "…Yes?"
"Such as the beginning of your friendship with Superman—it doesn't really have much reference value after all," Alfred said.
Batman, who conducted covert investigations, maintained constant surveillance, yet still earned the title of "World's Finest" with Superman: "?"
But Batman didn't mind much—he'd grown up hearing Alfred's sarcasm and was long accustomed to it. So he picked up the coffee beside him and fixed his gaze on the Batcomputer screen: "Someone's been collecting Kryptonite in Gotham recently. I suspect this is another conspiracy targeting Superman."
As he spoke, he opened the files Robin didn't have clearance for, narrowing his eyes at the information he'd noticed.
Alfred watched this father-son, partner duo who both tacitly hid files from each other on the Batcomputer, and shook his head helplessly.
By the time Tim changed clothes and got into the car, he yawned belatedly, squinting as drowsiness crept in.
Ever since he'd volunteered to become Batman's Robin, his sleep hours had plummeted. But the advantage of youth was that after pulling an all-nighter, he still looked somewhat presentable.
And Batman had also taught him how to restore his spirit in the most efficient and rapid way through meditation. On that front, Tim had already learned how to weave sleep into the gaps of daily life to keep his focus sharp.
Though Alfred would probably prefer he actually get a proper night's sleep in a real bed.
Because his parents had no idea about his current Robin side gig, and to keep his rarely-home parents from catching on through his attendance records, Tim still needed to maintain his attendance while keeping his grades at least above average.
Tim Drake wasn't lacking in talent, and if his grades dropped too sharply, his parents would absolutely come home just for that.
Tim moved like a ghost, arriving at the classroom silently and taking his seat.
The other students were all in their proper places doing their own things, no different from any other day for Tim. No one noticed his arrival.
Tim felt a flicker of pride—when he didn't want anyone to notice him, he could always pull it off.
But today, there seemed to be a small hiccup.
"Drake? How did you do that?" A familiar voice sounded beside his ear.
"What?" Tim looked up.
"I just turned my head, and you were already sitting in your seat, but I'm sure you weren't here a second ago!" Silo rested both hands on Tim's desk, leaning forward with intense curiosity.
His senses had been a bit dulled recently due to his physical condition, but not to the point where his perception would fail him like this. Silo never doubted himself, so he chose to doubt Tim instead.
Silo had only been in Gotham for a week. In the past few days, his attention had been diverted by the stubborn sun that refused to let him look at it, pushing his other goals to the back burner.
This morning, he'd finally gotten what he wanted, so his attention had returned to other things.
Like this school he hadn't really paid much attention to.
He was always alone.
His previous way of learning was just having a pile of knowledge dumped straight into his brain—he rarely had opportunities to study or interact with others.
That made Silo curious about ordinary schools, which was why he'd come to Gotham without hesitation through the enrollment route.
But the best way to dispel an illusion is to possess it. Once he actually stepped into a real school and the initial novelty wore off, Silo found it rather dull.
He'd been thinking about whether to just give up when—hey!—he noticed an interesting little ghost!
Timothy Drake. Silo had heard the name through other students' conversations—a rich kid, an unsociable "nerd."
Silo could tell the disdain and jealousy in how they talked about Drake, but Silo didn't care about that—if anything, it was the kind of life he preferred and was used to.
"So, how did you do it? Or are you not actually human? No wait, you definitely are human… Do you have super speed too? Can you fly? Can you turn invisible?"
When his questions went unanswered, Silo could unleash a focus and curiosity more passionate than anyone else's. Just like how he'd persisted an entire week to see a sunrise that was especially dangerous for him!
Persistence wasn't a virtue—it was something people mocked. But Silo didn't care. He only cared about what he wanted.
Even through his glasses, Tim could see the brightness and passion in those blue eyes.
It was the first time he'd been this close to Silo's eyes. This transfer student of his had a pair of unforgettable, beautiful blue eyes… Why hadn't he noticed them before? Because of those old-fashioned glasses?
"Sorry? I'm not really sure what you're talking about." Tim brushed it off.
That made Silo purse his lips: "Your answer sounds like a little robot. Don't be so annoying, Timothy."
"Huh?"
"What, you think your answer was brilliant?"
"No, I mean—what did you just call me?" Tim hesitated.
"Timothy? You don't like it? Then I'll call you Timmy? Little Tim? That sounds pretty cute." Silo twirled a finger by his ear happily. "Since you like it, I'll call you Little Tim!"
"I don't think I said anything just now?" Tim declined tactfully.
But obviously, Silo Sunlight didn't understand rejection.
"I'll take that as agreement." He said it with absolute certainty.
"I refuse." Tim answered decisively.
But Silo froze for a moment, tilting his head in confusion: "Huh? Why does that answer sound a bit familiar?"
Tim inwardly cursed. He remembered that he'd just refused the other boy's "Little Robin" nickname this morning, and his response had been exactly the same—even the tone was no different.
But just as Tim was about to salvage the situation, the bell rang. So Silo kept his thoughtful expression and quietly returned to his seat without waiting for Tim to explain anything.
There were two people between them, and the teacher happened to walk in just then, so Tim had no chance to dissuade Silo of his suspicion during class.
Tim was subtly nervous. If it were anyone else, he wouldn't be so worried, but because Silo Sunlight had spent years at home without much social contact, and as a Metropolis native didn't know Gotham all that well, he could easily overlook Tim's outward concealment tactics and cut straight to the heart of the matter.
The most brilliant aspect of Batman's hidden identity was that Bruce Wayne's existence was so conspicuous—over a decade of cultivation meant no one would ever shift the concept of Batman onto him.
But Silo, whom Tim was so anxious about, was currently thinking about something entirely unrelated to Tim.
—The sun's been beating down on me lately to the point of exhaustion. I really need to find that Kryptonite as soon as possible.
They said Gotham was crawling with Kryptonite, didn't they? That guy wasn't lying to me, was he?