[English][DC-Batman] Nora - Extra Chapter: If We Had Met in College 3.7— Who Is the Legend?

Robert sat in the shelter's dining hall.

Sunlight streamed through the windows, filling the room with a warm glow.

Several people were gathered around the long wooden tables.

Some were eating breakfast.

Some were discussing the day's patrol routes.

Others were sorting through the vegetables that had just been harvested.

Conversations drifted through the room.

In a world like this, such liveliness had become a rare luxury.

Robert sat quietly in one corner.

A tiny spoon rested in his hand as he patiently fed Max one bite at a time.

The little boy had already grown a few baby teeth.

He was finally able to chew soft solid food.

With every spoonful, his tiny mouth worked diligently.

Sometimes he would pause, staring up at Robert with wide green eyes, as though trying to decide what exactly he was tasting.

Robert never rushed him.

Only after making sure Max had swallowed would he scoop up another spoonful.

Before anyone had realized it,

they had already been living in the shelter for three months.

During those three months, Robert had often volunteered to look after Max.

Whenever Nora and Tim were busy,

he would happily take the little boy into his care.

Sometimes he carried him on long walks.

Sometimes they played with wooden blocks together.

Sometimes he simply sat quietly, watching the child nap.

Little by little,

Max had grown more and more attached to him.

Whenever he saw Robert,

he would immediately stretch out both little arms, asking to be picked up.

The thought brought a gentle smile to Robert's face.

He fed Max another spoonful of applesauce.

As for Tim...

Robert had to admit it.

His former subordinate truly was remarkable.

In only a few short years,

he had built a shelter this complete.

A defensive system.

Medical facilities.

Farmland.

Organized patrols.

Resource management.

Even education was gradually being restored.

For the survivors of the apocalypse,

this had become a place where people could truly live again.

There was only one thing...

Just a few days ago, they had finished a heated debate over how to deal with the infected.

Robert had always believed that those infected had once been ordinary people.

They were simply sick.

Just as people could fall ill.

If a cure could be found,

then one day they could be saved.

He had always believed that.

It was the conviction that had sustained his research for so many years.

But Tim had simply shaken his head.

He never dismissed Robert's efforts.

Nor did he reject his ideals.

Instead, he calmly said,

“I've thought about it.”

“And I've studied it.”

Then Tim placed one set of documents after another onto the table.

Every page contained experimental data.

Years' worth of research accumulated by the shelter.

He turned the pages one by one.

Explaining each finding in careful detail.

The conclusion, however,

was brutally simple.

The infected could not be cured.

Nor could they become a new branch of humanity.

Tim spoke calmly.

“Their reproductive systems have completely ceased functioning.”

“The virus can create new individuals, but that's not reproduction.”

“It's infection.”

“And the cost of that infection is that they've permanently lost the ability to bring the next generation into the world.”

He paused.

His blue eyes met Robert's.

His voice remained steady.

“They'll never have children again.”

“And they'll never produce a truly independent new life.”

After the meeting ended,

Robert remained seated alone for a very long time.

A very long time.

He thought about his own child.

About the past he could never return to.

Then he thought about Max.

About the little boy who smiled every day as he reached out to be held.

Finally,

his mind returned to the room he had once prepared for Max.

The crib.

The little fabric animals slowly turning above it.

If this world loses its children...

...what will be left?

Robert closed his eyes.

He sat there in silence for a long while.

At last,

he let out a long, quiet sigh.

Then he slowly rose to his feet

and walked toward Tim's office.

He knocked.

Opened the door.

Tim looked up,

meeting the eyes of the man who had once been his commanding officer.

Robert looked back at him.

Without the slightest hesitation,

he spoke calmly.

“I'll follow your lead.”

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Joban was a chef.

The chef responsible for preparing every meal in the shelter.

Before dawn each morning, he was already in the kitchen preparing ingredients.

Which cuts of meat needed to be used first.

Which vegetables should be cooked that day.

Which fruit would spoil if left for another day.

He remembered every detail perfectly.

The people in the shelter often said that the moment they smelled food cooking,

they knew Joban had started work.

Before the apocalypse,

he had worked at a luxury hotel.

Cooking had been his profession.

And his pride.

Until the day the virus broke out.

It was also the longest day of his life.

The entire hotel was overflowing with people.

Guests.

Servers.

Kitchen staff.

And countless people rushing inside, begging for help.

The once orderly lobby quickly became a living hell of screams and chaos.

Some people ran.

Some fell.

Some were tackled...

and never stood up again.

Joban didn't even know how he had escaped.

He only remembered running upstairs.

Until he finally hid inside a guest room.

Then locked the door as tightly as he could.

That was the first time he had ever hated a hotel minibar.

When he opened it,

there were only a few bottles of soda.

And a few bottles of mineral water.

Nothing else.

He rationed everything carefully.

One sip at a time.

One day at a time.

But those supplies were limited.

Before long,

they were gone.

Every last drop.

Later,

he started drinking water from the toilet.

The first time, he threw up.

The second time.

The third time.

When his throat burned with unbearable thirst,

he drank it anyway.

Because when a person was truly dying of thirst,

pride meant nothing.

Eventually,

he had no options left.

He walked to the window.

From the twentieth floor,

he looked down at the streets below.

Abandoned cars clogged every road.

Some doors hung open.

Others had been crushed together in violent collisions.

The streets no longer resembled the city he had known.

Only yesterday,

he had watched a troop of monkeys running down the road,

a pack of wolves chasing after them.

The city that had once belonged to humanity

had become a paradise for wild animals.

Everything was so unfamiliar

that it was terrifying.

Joban slowly climbed onto the windowsill.

Both legs dangled over the edge.

A gentle breeze brushed across his face,

bringing with it a coolness he hadn't felt in a long time.

In that moment,

he suddenly thought of home.

He thought of his wife.

His child.

He remembered promising himself that he would visit them during his last vacation.

Instead,

he had chosen to stay behind and work overtime.

At the thought,

Joban let out a bitter smile.

His eyes slowly reddened.

He looked toward the horizon.

Evening was quietly settling over the city.

The setting sun painted everything in shades of orange and crimson.

But he knew.

Once the sun disappeared,

the devils would come out.

Those monsters would reclaim the streets.

If he jumped now,

it probably wouldn't take long before they devoured what remained of him.

At least...

he wouldn't have to endure the hunger anymore.

He let out a quiet sigh.

The hands gripping the window frame slowly loosened.

Only then did he realize

they had been trembling the entire time.

They were shaking violently.

Completely beyond his control.

Joban looked down at his trembling hands and couldn't help laughing bitterly to himself.

What a coward.

I can't even bring myself to die.

Just as he took a deep breath,

ready to lean forward and let himself fall—

a figure suddenly appeared on the rooftop of the building across the street.

Joban froze.

He couldn't believe his eyes.

The stranger stood on the rooftop,

looking directly toward him.

He had been saved.

Later,

he joined the shelter.

And once again,

he picked up the work he knew best.

He became a chef again.

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Joban remembered everyone's eating habits.

Who refused to eat cilantro.

Who liked mixing their mashed potatoes together.

Whose teeth weren't good anymore and needed their meat cut into smaller pieces.

Who always came back from patrol starving.

He remembered it all.

To him, remembering what someone liked to eat was simply another way of caring for them.

Of everyone in the shelter,

the one who left the deepest impression on him was the Major.

The Major liked sour flavors.

Lemons.

Tomatoes.

Pickles.

If something had a tang to it, he would usually eat a little more.

More often than not, though, what he preferred was convenience.

Not because he was picky.

Because he was busy.

Meetings often ran long, so he needed food he could pick up and eat immediately.

Something he could finish quickly before heading out on patrol.

Or grab late at night while still working.

So Joban decided to do something himself.

He built a small brick oven beside the kitchen.

Then he started making pizza.

Once the dough had risen, all it needed was a simple topping of tomato sauce and cheese.

It was ready in no time.

The Major would usually grab a slice,

reading reports while he ate.

Sometimes he became so absorbed in the paperwork that the pizza disappeared before he even noticed.

After a while,

Joban could tell exactly how busy the Major had been simply by looking at the tray that came back.

If the plate was spotless,

the day had gone relatively well.

If only half the meal was gone,

it meant he had become busy again.

And if...

the food returned almost untouched,

then something serious had happened.

Standing at the sink, Joban looked at the meal that had barely been touched.

He couldn't help letting out a quiet sigh.

He knew the Major had skipped another proper meal.

But there was nothing he could do except warm it up again...

or prepare something even easier to eat.

He wasn't particularly clever.

He couldn't research viruses.

He couldn't devise military strategies.

The only thing he knew how to do

was cook.

There was no other way he could help the Major.

Until one day,

the shelter welcomed its lady of the house.

At first, Joban had assumed the Major had always ignored Amy simply because he was too busy.

Every day he was occupied with countless matters throughout the shelter.

Who had time for romance?

But after Nora arrived,

Joban realized the truth.

It wasn't that the Major had never had the time.

It was that someone had already been living in his heart.

Nora was a wonderful young woman.

She was an exceptional fighter.

People said that the very first time she went out on a supply run, she had left everyone speechless.

She was kind.

She was willing to help anyone who needed it.

But her kindness never made her hesitate.

When it was time to pull the trigger,

she never wavered.

Most importantly...

the Major listened to her.

Joban noticed it almost immediately.

The meal trays no longer came back nearly untouched.

At the very least, more than half the food was always gone.

Sometimes,

when Max left mashed meat unfinished,

the Major was the one who quietly finished every last bite.

He drank less coffee.

There had been a time when no one could even count how many cups he had in a day.

Now, people only occasionally saw him carrying a mug.

He slept more, too.

He no longer stayed awake until the early hours of the morning every single night.

The exhausted expression that had once looked perpetually on the verge of collapse gradually disappeared.

There was color in his face again.

He simply looked healthier.

Joban had never said it out loud,

but he was truly grateful to Nora.

Grateful that she had come to this place.

One morning,

Nora walked into the dining hall holding Max's hand as they came in for breakfast.

The little boy toddled forward unsteadily,

while Sam walked patiently beside him.

At that moment, Joban happened to be carrying a tray of freshly baked bread out of the kitchen.

As he looked up to greet them,

his eyes happened to fall upon Nora's right hand.

There was a ring on it.

Joban paused for a moment.

Then he smiled.

He asked no questions.

He said nothing.

He simply carried the most beautiful pizza he had baked that day

and quietly placed it on their table.

A quiet sense of contentment filled his heart.

He was only a chef.

Even if the world had become an apocalypse.

Even if everyone still struggled every day just to survive until tomorrow.

Seeing a scene like this

was enough to make him happy.

Because somewhere in this world, there was one less lonely person.

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My name is Max Drake, and I'm four years old.

I have my mom's green eyes and golden hair. Everyone says that one look is enough to tell I'm her son.

But I also have my dad's smart brain.

That's what Mom says.

Dad has never actually said it himself.

He just smiles and ruffles my hair.

Every morning, Mom comes to wake me up.

She gently pats my shoulder first, then pulls the curtains open just a little to let the sunlight into my room.

I almost never stay in bed.

Because I know that if I don't get up,

Dad will come instead.

He never gets angry.

He never scolds me.

He just stands beside my bed, looks at me, and calmly starts counting down.

"Three."

"Two."

"One."

Then he picks me up.

So I always hurry and sit up before Dad starts counting.

Mom laughs every single time.

After getting up, I go to the dining hall for breakfast.

Pizza is my favorite.

Uncle Joban makes the best pizza ever.

Dad loves pizza too, so sometimes we eat the same kind.

I always sneak a look at Dad's plate.

If his slice is bigger than mine,

I'll ask if we can switch.

Dad usually says yes.

After breakfast, it's time for class.

I have to sit at my own little desk.

And during class,

I'm not allowed to call Mom "Mom."

I have to call her "Teacher."

Teacher isn't quite the same as my usual mom.

Normally, Mom hugs me.

She pats my head.

She plays with me.

But once she becomes Teacher,

she's very strict.

That's not the time to be clingy.

Even if I wrap my arms around hers,

she'll only smile and say,

"Max, it's time for class."

So I always sit nicely.

Then, when class is over,

I can hug Mom again.

After lessons comes lunch,

one of my favorite parts of the day.

Because if Dad isn't busy,

he'll eat with us.

Dad is really busy.

People are always looking for him.

So lunchtime is the only time I get to sit at the table with him.

My favorite thing is showing Dad the pictures I drew that day.

Sometimes they're of Sam.

Sometimes they're of Robert.

Sometimes they're of all four of us together.

Dad always looks at my drawings very carefully.

After he's done, he'll talk to me about them.

Sometimes he'll even ask,

"What's this part supposed to be?"

Then I'll happily explain everything.

After lunch, it's naptime.

When I wake up,

I run outside by myself.

Because I know Robert will definitely be there.

And Sam will definitely be with him.

I love playing with them the most.

Sam runs with me.

She plays fetch with me.

And she'll lie down so I can hug her.

Robert usually sits in a chair,

telling me stories about the Outside.

The world beyond.

There are really, really tall buildings.

Lots and lots of cars.

Animals.

And scary monsters.

Sometimes the stories are so scary that I can't help running over to hug Robert.

After I hug Robert,

I always hug Sam too.

When evening comes,

after dinner is over,

Mom comes to pick me up.

Sometimes Dad comes too.

That's my favorite time.

Dad holds one of my hands.

Mom holds the other.

The three of us walk home together.

Along the way,

I tell them everything that happened that day.

Dad listens quietly.

Mom smiles and answers every now and then.

Sometimes,

Dad and Mom look at each other...

and then they smile together.

I don't know what they're smiling about.

But I think

it must be something that makes them very happy.

My name is Max Drake.

I love Robert.

I love Sam.

I love Uncle Joban.

I love my dad.

And I love my mom too.

I hope every day can be just like today.

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Nora opened her eyes.

She stared quietly at the ceiling, making no move to get up.

Her mind was completely blank.

For one brief moment,

she couldn't even remember where she was.

She blinked.

Her gaze slowly drifted toward the familiar desk, the wardrobe, and the tiny cracks that years had etched across the dormitory ceiling.

Right.

The dorm.

Not the shelter.

Nora let out a long breath.

Closing her eyes, she muttered under her breath,

“Oh no...”

“A dream eater... getting lost in a dream.”

She couldn't help finding it a little amusing herself.

A Baku, nearly unable to tell the difference between dreams and reality.

But that dream had lasted so long.

Time inside dreams had never matched reality.

And this time...

it had been four whole years.

Four years of living.

Four years of memories.

Four years spent together.

It had been so long that she had almost forgotten only a single night had passed in the real world.

She remembered the final scene Tim had chosen to end the dream.

Max getting his vaccination.

After all, the entire plan had revolved around two major goals.

The first:

eliminate the infected.

The second:

give everyone genuine immunity.

And the children...

were the final missing piece.

She still remembered four-year-old Max sitting in the clinic.

Normally fearless,

the little boy had become visibly nervous the moment he saw the syringe.

The instant the needle went in,

he burst into tears.

He cried so hard that tears and snot ran together.

Nearly everyone in the shelter came running to comfort him.

After all...

he had been the youngest child in the entire shelter.

The child everyone had watched grow up together.

Everyone adored him.

The memory made Nora smile.

Then she slowly turned her head toward the bedside.

The familiar infant simulator lay quietly beside her.

Completely still.

Nothing like the little boy from her dream—

the one who ran,

laughed,

pouted,

and refused to let go of Robert.

Suddenly,

Nora found herself missing the Max from her dream.

That clever little rascal.

She slowly reached out,

wanting to pat the Max beside her.

But halfway there,

her hand stopped.

Her green eyes widened slightly.

She stared blankly at her right hand.

Resting quietly on the ring finger

was a ring.

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Tim opened his eyes.

He stared quietly at the ceiling, not moving for a long moment.

For an instant, he wasn't entirely sure where he was.

His mind was still inside the house at the shelter.

Several seconds passed before he slowly blinked.

His gaze settled on the familiar wooden ceiling,

then on the morning sunlight filtering through the window.

Right.

Wayne Manor.

Tim raised his right hand and draped the back of it across his eyes,

shielding them from the bright morning light—

and hiding the lingering weariness in his blue eyes.

It had been a long dream.

Too long to feel like a dream.

Too real to be one.

Even now,

he could still vividly remember the sound of footsteps across the shelter's wooden floor.

The smell of freshly baked pizza.

The weight of Max's tiny body whenever he ran over and wrapped himself around his leg.

And...

Nora.

The truth was,

this dream had been his plan from the very beginning.

After the last movie ended,

he had started to suspect that Nora was hiding far more than she had ever admitted.

So this time,

he had deliberately chosen a film with almost no major characters.

Very few actors.

Very few roles for someone else to inhabit.

He wanted to see what Nora would do

if there was no one for her to become.

And she had.

She had appeared exactly as herself.

No Rose.

No Motoko Kusanagi.

No borrowed identity at all.

Just...

Nora.

The good news was that his experiment had succeeded.

He had finally seen the real Nora.

He had also discovered pieces of her past that she had never shared with anyone.

The bad news...

Tim let out a quiet, helpless smile.

He seemed to have...

become far too immersed in the dream.

They had even ended up with a child.

Thinking of that,

Tim slowly closed his eyes.

Fragments of those four years drifted through his mind.

Building the shelter together.

Planning the farmland together.

Attending research meetings together.

Revising patrol routes together.

Talking across the dinner table.

Watching Max slowly grow up.

His first time rolling over.

His first steps.

The first time he called him Dad.

His first day of school.

His first vaccination.

One memory followed another.

There had been nothing dramatic.

Nothing earth-shattering.

Just an ordinary life.

So ordinary

that it truly felt as though they had lived together for four years.

Yet Tim realized

he had loved those days beyond measure.

Not because they had defeated the virus.

Not because they had built the shelter.

But because...

through every one of those days,

Nora had been there.

At the thought,

Tim slowly raised his right hand toward the sunlight.

Golden light settled across his long fingers.

His gaze rested on the back of his hand.

Then drifted to his ring finger.

It was empty.

There was nothing there.

No ring that had accompanied him for years.

Tim simply looked at it,

his eyes lingering there for a very long time.

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