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During breakfast, Merkel watched Schiller's somewhat clumsy folding of the newspaper. He hesitated for a moment before finally asking, "Sir, would you like me to help you?" Schiller didn't reply; he was struggling to prop up the newspaper so he could see it while using the fork to eat. However, he quickly realized that it was quite difficult, nowhere near as convenient as using a mobile phone. With a sigh, he simply put the newspaper aside.

Merkel once again marveled at the backwardness of 20th-century science and technology. Schiller focused on the food on his plate—a toast freshly toasted, accompanied by sausages, fried eggs, and stewed peas, all served with a perfectly warm cup of milk. He didn't have to cook or wash the dishes himself. Satisfied with his meal, Schiller leaned back on the chair, exclaiming at the decadence of the aristocratic life.

But just as Merkel was about to clean up the plate, he noticed something odd. He glanced at his watch and realized that Schiller had only been eating for 20 minutes, and it wasn't even 7 o'clock yet. There wasn't much left on the plate—a slightly overcooked crust of bread, some soup from the stewed peas, a knife carelessly left at hand, and a fork resting on the plate with the milk cup placed in front of it... Merkel thought that Schiller might indeed be unwell.

Putting aside the lack of ceremony and the haphazard meal process, the irregularity of the leftovers, and the completely uneven placement of the knife and fork, the milk cup being slightly off-center was enough to send the old Schiller into a day-long fit of agitation. If this had happened before, Merkel could only silently pray for the students attending his class today. The surprisingly normal eating process surprised Merkel, leaving him with no chance to say what he had in mind.

Just as he was about to find an opportunity to speak, Schiller stood up and said, "I'll go upstairs and take a nap. Please wake me up at around 9:30, thank you." Merkel widened his eyes, displaying a hesitant expression. Schiller looked at him and asked, "What's wrong?" "Are you saying that you plan to go upstairs and take a nap right after breakfast?"

"Well, is there a problem?" Schiller looked at his watch and said, "Aren't my classes at 10 o'clock? It's only 7 o'clock now. What else should I do so early?" "Um... Alright, if you plan to do that, I'll wake you up on time. Oh, wait! You just said 9:30, but..." "Gotham University is not far from here." Schiller walked upstairs while speaking, "Even if I ride a bicycle, I'll get there in half an hour." With that, he returned to the bedroom, leaving Merkel still feeling surprised.

At 10 o'clock, inside the classroom at Gotham University, it was filled with students whispering and chatting. Just then, footsteps sounded from outside the door, and everyone immediately sat up straight, stopping their conversations. The atmosphere in the entire classroom felt as if it had frozen.

The footsteps gradually quickened, and at this moment, the person rushing into the classroom was Evans. As he entered, he didn't even look at the situation on the podium and quickly said, "I'm truly sorry, Professor. It's the first day of the road opening, and the traffic was just too congested. I woke up at 6 am, left at 7, and only just arrived. I'm really sorry..."

Not receiving any response, Evans realized that he hadn't looked at the podium yet. As he glanced at it, he found that there was no one there. He widened his eyes, looking puzzled, and slowly walked to his seat, noticing Bruce sitting next to him, staring at the podium thoughtfully. "What's going on? Bruce, where's the Professor?" Bruce shook his head slowly, and Evans widened his eyes once again. Looking around, he noticed that his classmates' gazes were all fixed on him, so he stood up and said, "Don't worry, I'll find someone to call the Professor."

After about 20 minutes, Schiller, still stuck in the Manor district, saw a helicopter with the Wayne Group logo slowly landing on a lawn in Manor. Bruce got out of the helicopter, and Schiller waved at him through the car window. Bruce walked over and saw Schiller sitting in the driver's seat, speechless. He asked, "How did you end up here?" "Isn't that the question I should be asking you? Why are you here? And why did you take a helicopter?"

"Evans called your Manor, and your butler told him that you left about an hour ago. Based on Gotham's traffic, I guessed you got stuck here," explained Bruce.

"What's wrong with you?" Bruce asked, looking very puzzled. "What's wrong with me?" Schiller was also puzzled, misunderstanding Bruce's meaning. He waved his hand and said, "Well, I just had some bad luck, got stuck in heavy traffic. Next time, I'll try to leave earlier. You can tell the students that this class is now a self-study session..." Bruce circled around the car, opened the passenger's door, and sat in the passenger seat, turning his head to squint at Schiller.

"Is there a problem?" Schiller asked, looking back at him. But Bruce continued to stare at him without saying a word, so Schiller said, "Alright, you little rascals, you're free to go. Happy now?" Bruce's eyes narrowed tighter and tighter, revealing a very typical expression of suspicion. When Schiller caught a glimpse of this expression, he couldn't help but turn his head and give Bruce a once-over, saying, "Don't tell me you want me to ask for leave from other teachers too. That would be going too far, wouldn't it?"

"What's going on with you? This looks like more than just a simple anxiety attack. Have you taken a mental test recently?" "My mental health is fine," Schiller said, gripping the steering wheel with one hand and inching forward with the traffic flow. He continued, "Don't forget, you have a bill to pay. If everything's fine, go take care of your company and make some money." Bruce stared at Schiller for a long time, and when he saw that Schiller didn't respond further, he could only push open the car door and walk away.

When he returned to the classroom at Gotham University and informed everyone that the class was now a self-study session, there was no excitement among the students. They were whispering to each other. "Oh no! If this class is a self-study session, the next one will surely be a big exam. Professor must be testing whether we can study independently. If we fail..."

"A self-study session? Devil's self-study session! How could that devil allow us to study freely? This must be a trap!" "We had such a long break, and he's not giving us an exam? Bruce, are you sure you didn't misunderstand?" "Stop talking and hurry to the library. Don't forget, the freshmen will be fighting for seats with us!" "Let's go, let's go! Bruce, are you coming? I'll save a seat for you..."

When faced with this question, Bruce did hesitate for a moment because he couldn't be sure if this was really Schiller's trap.

Although Bruce's grades didn't have much room for improvement, if he were to set a new low, Schiller would surely call Alfred and Bruce could forget about going out for night patrols. After hesitating for less than a second, he said, "Save me a seat, please. Thank you."

When Schiller arrived at Gotham University, it was already lunchtime.

After he entered the office, all eyes were on him. Anna, who taught advanced mathematics, walked up to him first.

She looked him up and down before saying, "Just now, your student, Evans, found me after the advanced mathematics class and asked me to check on your mental state because he heard from Bruce that you had a class at 10, but you didn't leave until 9:30."

"Of course, being late in Gotham is nothing new, but being late due to traffic, is it your first day in Gotham?" Schiller sighed and said, "Why do you all think that an average three-hour traffic jam is normal?"

"An average three-hour traffic jam is certainly not normal, because the average used to be five hours."

"There are only 24 hours in a day!" Schiller raised his voice.

"There are a full 24 hours in a day!" Anna raised her voice as well.

At that moment, Victor walked in with books and materials in his hand.

It seemed that he had just finished his class. When he saw Schiller sitting at the desk, he walked over, placed his things down, and then knocked on the partition, saying, "Let's go, it's time for lunch." He turned to Anna and said, "Anna, don't be like this.

Being late is perfectly normal, especially since they suddenly announced the road reopening last night.

Everyone was frustrated, so there's bound to be more cars on the road."

"Both Schiller and I are from out of town, so it's normal for us to be unfamiliar with the traffic situation here." Then, he said to Schiller, "Forget about it, it just gives your students a break. I think you've been pushing them too hard before.

Education can't be rushed." After saying that, Victor came over, took Schiller's arm, and led him to the cafeteria.

To Schiller, Victor could be considered his best friend in Gotham, and vice versa. Because their relationship was so good, Victor knew all about Schiller's quirks.

He didn't care at all about Schiller's sudden choice to leave late and be delayed by traffic. What's the big deal? It's Gotham, and plans can get frozen in ice here.

This relaxed mood only lasted until they sat down to eat together. Victor saw Schiller pick up a piece of broccoli with his fork and put it in his mouth.

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