Bruce Wayne was born into the Wayne family, one of Gotham's four great houses.
He was extraordinarily talented and often regarded as the brain of the Justice League.
He always seemed able to predict his enemies' moves and defeat foes that others thought were far too powerful.
But though brilliant, his life was marked by tragedy.
As a child, he watched criminals murder his parents before his very eyes. That scene left a brutal scar etched deep into his heart.
When he grew older, his son Damian proved just as exceptional. Bruce rarely said it, but he had always been proud of him.
Yet just a few days ago, Damian was killed—murdered by the criminal known as the Heretic.
The grief nearly buried Bruce completely.
Negative thoughts swirled endlessly in his mind.
Why did his son have to die, while others were still allowed to live?
Seeing people happy only made him want to tear it all down.
"I can't control myself. Every time those awful thoughts come up, I feel nothing but regret. Why do I think like this? It's terrifying."
Bruce Wayne clutched his head. He didn't want these thoughts, but he couldn't stop them.
Especially when he was alone, the negativity wrapped around him entirely.
Sometimes, he feared that one day he might act on them by accident.
Dick Grayson placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "If Damian were alive, he wouldn't want to see you like this. Maybe we should find a way..."
As he said that, Dick suddenly thought of a psychologist who had recently come to Gotham.
Maybe if Bruce spoke with him, it would help.
But when Dick brought it up, Bruce immediately refused, even finding the idea of seeing a psychologist laughable.
"Damian is dead, and I, his father, go see a psychologist? What kind of joke is that?"
His words carried irritation, and it showed in his eyes.
He knew about the psychologist who had opened a clinic downtown.
He didn't know what skills this man, Lorien, had to establish himself in Gotham so easily, but either way, Bruce wanted nothing to do with him.
Seeing Bruce's resistance, Dick swallowed his words.
Forget it.
If Bruce refused, all they could do was wait for him to heal on his own.
With Bruce Wayne's resilience, he was bound to recover sooner or later. There was no need to worry.
For now, Dick and the others simply kept watch, making sure he didn't do something he'd regret. Beyond that, they didn't press.
...
Meanwhile, Lorien's business was doing well.
No matter their initial reasons for coming, once people entered his clinic, they stopped causing trouble.
After all, anyone who didn't learn their lesson after a few beatings had to be brainless.
As for those who came just to snoop, Lorien didn't care.
It was Monday.
After spending the previous night fooling around with Gwen and Wanda, he felt lazier than usual.
Around nine in the morning, he yawned and wandered idly through his clinic.
Suddenly, a man in a black robe, shifty-looking like a rat caught in the light, rushed inside.
With a guest here, Lorien led him into the consultation room.
"What seems to be the problem, sir?"
Lorien asked casually.
"I know you're a psychologist—supposedly very skilled. But I don't believe it."
The man sat down and spoke bluntly.
Hearing this, Lorien only curved his lips slightly. He wasn't offended.
Most people who came to him doubted his abilities. Some even believed psychologists were useless, with no reason to exist at all.
"Since you came here yourself, that means you still hold a bit of hope. Whether I'm capable or worth trusting—you can decide for yourself."
Lorien was very selective with clients. Back in the Marvel world, he wouldn't even glance at anyone who rubbed him the wrong way.
But here, his tolerance seemed to have grown. Or maybe, in his eyes, there wasn't much difference anymore between difficult clients and good ones.
"You're right. Whether you have the ability or not, I'll see for myself."
The man, wrapped tightly from head to toe, scrutinized Lorien with sharp, critical eyes.
This psychologist seemed far too thin, fragile even. Aside from his strikingly handsome face, there was nothing particularly unusual about him.
"Someone important to you has passed away, hasn't they?"
Lorien asked after observing him quietly for a while.
"You noticed?"
The man's eyes widened with surprise.
He couldn't understand how, after saying nothing of importance and revealing so little, Lorien had already seen through him—straight to the real reason he was here.
Before arriving, he hadn't believed in this psychologist at all. Now, he was beginning to.
"I lost my parents when I was young. And just a few days ago, my beloved son also died—"
The man shed his disguise, revealing a strong, resolute face.
"My name is Bruce Wayne."
He stared at Lorien as he spoke, clearly trying to see whether the doctor recognized the name.
Of course Lorien knew. He knew perfectly well.
The only surprising part was that Bruce Wayne had actually come to see a psychologist—and in such secrecy.
Lorien's expression remained calm.
Bruce, who had been watching his face carefully after revealing his name, saw nothing there.
"You're a man of deep emotion. The deaths of your parents and your son must have caused you immense pain."