Bruce Wayne shared the results of his investigation, hoping to help Lorien better understand the situation.
"Billy defeated the monster, but those two thieves escaped. Even their accomplice disappeared without a trace."
As he spoke, Bruce frowned. "The last location we tracked them to was Mount Everest."
Lorien's eyes darkened. If he'd had any doubts before, he was now almost certain those thieves were the same people he remembered.
Still, the thought only lingered for a moment. He quickly composed himself, a faint curve returning to his lips. His calm expression never wavered.
Bruce looked at him with genuine admiration.
As expected of a psychologist—utterly unshaken, no matter how tense the situation.
But the next thing he was about to say, Bruce suspected, would test even Lorien's composure. A small part of him almost looked forward to seeing the man's reaction.
"Initially, we thought the museum thieves were just small-time crooks trying to sell stolen art. But later I found out they were actually searching for magical artifacts. They planned to summon two monsters—Shabak and Tian Shi. Both are incredibly dangerous. If you don't understand just how dangerous, I can explain..."
Seeing Lorien's expression remain unchanged, Bruce assumed he didn't grasp the severity and prepared to elaborate. But Lorien shook his head.
"No need to explain. I understand."
He wasn't surprised because he already knew. There was no reason for him to react otherwise.
"You want me to find where these people are, right?"
Bruce didn't confirm it outright, but Lorien could tell from their reactions.
"Alright. Leave it to me. I'll have an answer for you in two days."
He stood up after speaking.
"Now that this is settled, I'll be taking my leave."
"Of course."
Some things could've waited until Lorien was at work, where Bruce could've spoken to him as a patient. But Bruce couldn't wait even one night, so he'd chosen to drag him in like this.
He'd expected it to be hard convincing Lorien to help. After all, the man always seemed detached, uninterested in anything. Yet not only had he agreed, he'd even given a precise deadline—two days.
From what Bruce had come to know about Lorien, that meant exactly two days—no more, no less.
Watching Lorien and his two women leave, Bruce finally felt a bit of relief.
...
Afterward, as Lorien, Wanda, and Gwen walked away, Gwen asked, "So, you're actually going to help? I thought you'd stay out of this."
"I'll do what I can."
Lorien thought about the various rewards he'd received from his past check-ins. Finding a few people would be child's play.
His face showed no hesitation at all. Seeing that, Wanda's earlier worry faded completely.
The next day, just as promised, Lorien sent over the information.
The case that had given Bruce and his team such a headache was resolved effortlessly.
"Lorien, you should come with us."
Bruce truly believed Lorien had made the biggest contribution to the operation. They didn't want to take credit for it. But Lorien couldn't have been happier to hand it over.
It wasn't his job in the first place. He'd already found their targets—what more did they expect?
No chance.
Outside of work hours, Bruce could never find him. Even when he showed up at Lorien's home, there was always some excuse.
At first, the Justice League thought he was just being modest. But when Lorien went out of his way to avoid them, even they had to realize—he simply didn't want to get involved.
They couldn't make sense of him.
Even Bruce, who thought he'd begun to understand Lorien after a while, still couldn't figure him out completely.
But since Lorien had made his stance so clear, they eventually stopped trying to contact him.
No more visits to his clinic, no unexpected calls—nothing.
Lorien's life became peaceful, almost leisurely, and he enjoyed every minute of it.
Days without interruptions were truly wonderful.
He thought so as he opened a book, leaned back in his chair, and rocked gently while reading.
Time slipped by, minute after minute.
Then, without warning, a tall man in a black cloak silently entered his counseling room.
As the man approached, Lorien immediately closed his book, straightened up, and gave a polite smile.
"Hello. How can I help you?"
"I'm looking for someone."
The man's voice was low and heavy, carrying an unmistakable weight.
Lorien raised an eyebrow. "If you're looking for someone, you should go to the police, not to a psychologist like me."
"I made some inquiries before coming. The person I'm looking for is here."
"Who?"
"A boy, about twelve or thirteen years old. His name is Billy Batson."
Looking for Billy?
Lorien's expression shifted slightly at the name. Then he smiled. "The person you're looking for isn't here."
Whoever this man was, he was clearly late to the game.
Lorien studied him closely.
"You're a wizard—a powerful one."
At those words, the man stiffened, his voice growing even lower. "My identity doesn't matter."
He didn't ask how Lorien knew. After all, cloaked figures could be many things—but this psychologist hadn't hesitated for even a second before identifying him.
"Go to the Justice League," Lorien said calmly. "The person you're looking for is there."