"What? No serial killings? No crimes at all in the past three months? ...Ah, sorry, I wanted to ask, what is the name of the largest cleaning company in Metropolis?... Isn't it called Snow Mountain Cleaning Company? You've never heard of this name?"
After hanging up the phone, Shiller looked at Lucifer, who was grinning and said, "I just glanced along the timeline and resolved the root of this paradox. There are no owls in this world, and there have never been."
"Also, all the victims of these cases have come back to life, oh, your name is Angela, right? Now go to Anderson Psychiatric Hospital, you can see your sister there, no need to thank me."
"What nonsense are you talking about??" Angela yelled at Lucifer: "How can you make a joke about my sister? She just died not long ago!"
"I was being kind, I should be your benefactor." Lucifer looked at Angela and said: "Even if you don't appreciate me, you shouldn't point a gun at me, should you?"
"Constantine, what does he mean by that?" Bruce looked at Constantine again and asked; Constantine shrugged and said, "Literally."
Bruce wore that classic doubtful expression again, and began to dig into Constantine's words.
In the room, apart from Shiller lying in the bed, everyone else was arguing in a mix of high and low voices which was chaotic, like a large symphony orchestra but lacking in musical and artistic quality.
Right at that moment, a "bang" sound came, and everyone stopped.
Shiller took his hand off the railing that he had just knocked, put both hands together on the quilt, and looked at them expressionlessly, "Do you know? I'm on annual leave right now... "
"According to Gotham University's faculty welfare standard, professors like me get 12 standard annual leave days in a year, plus some other subsidised leave, which altogether make 18 days."
"The management of Gotham University told me that this is their excellent tradition, and no one can break it."
"Now, it is the second week since I left Gotham, the 14th day that is... Which means... more than half of my annual leave has passed."
As he spoke, Shiller sighed, trying to maintain a calm tone, but couldn't cover up his final moment of anger, "After more than half of my annual leave has passed, I still haven't managed to rest. I'll use civilized terms that human beings can understand for one last time..."
"All of you, get out!"
After everyone froze for a moment, under Constantine's lead, they began to form a line and exit.
Lucifer at the end of the line shrugged as he left the room, "Does a college professor only get less than 20 days of leave a year? Even my bar staff get a full 36 days of leave."
On the bed, Shiller's eyes shot open.
Half an hour later, Shiller, in the hospital hall with his suitcase, picked up the public telephone and said into it,
"Yes, it's me... Yes, ma'am, I'm calling to confirm that half of my annual leave has passed till today, right?"
"What nonsense are you saying, Professor Rodriguez?" A slightly sharp female voice came from the other end, it was the head of the administrative office of Gotham University, she said: "Didn't you leave on April 1st? Now it's only the 14th, you've only been on leave for 14 days, you still have more than 20 days!"
"Don't I only have 18 days of leave?"
"Oh, my God, Professor, what's with your memory? Didn't I tell you when you were leaving? Professors like you get a standard of 36 days of annual leave, you have taken 14 days, there are still 22 days, you must remember..."
"Of course, ma'am, of course, I remember. The great tradition of Gotham University, no one can break... I'll bring you special products, good night."
Picking up his suitcase, he walked out of the door, put the suitcase into the trunk, entered the driver's seat, sat down, started the car, and stepped on the accelerator. In one go, Shiller, with one hand on the steering wheel, tuned the radio knob with the other hand.
The vigorous road-rolling music rang, a red sun slowly set at the barren end of the land, and on a straight road, the Ford car was speeding towards the end of dusk.
Watching the car slowly drive off into the sunset, Constantine, leaning against the railing of the hospital rooftop, let out a puff of smoke and turned to Bruce on his side.
"You have to believe, Shiller is really a good guy."
Turning his head to Bruce, Constantine asked, "If a being as great as God promises to grant you a wish, what would you choose?"
Bruce's lips moved a little, but in the end, he remained silent.
Constantine turned his head back and looked at the car that had disappeared on the horizon, and the still desolate and lonely sunset. He extinguished his cigarette, exhaled the last puff of smoke and said,
"Shiller chose 36 days of annual leave."