Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics-Chapter 4406 - 3496: The Study of Cats and Dogs (7)

Schiller lowered his gaze, ignoring the sense of familiarity brought on by the name, and like any ordinary university professor, he offered a polite smile to the young woman in front of him.

"Schiller Rodriguez, psychology professor at Gotham University. Which department are you from?"

"Hello, Professor Rodriguez. I'm studying journalism."

"Are you one of Professor Revens' students?"

"Yes, he oversees our foundation courses. I still have to submit my assignment to him tomorrow."

From just a few short exchanges, Schiller reached two conclusions: first, Kara Danvers was indeed Supergirl—her name, age, and major all matched. Second, she was likely not the New 52 version of Supergirl; she wasn't as rebellious or volatile, more closely resembling the older version of Kara, with relatively stable emotions.

Kara Zor-El was the cousin of Superman, Carl Ai'er, and also a descendant of the El family. However, her spaceship had been banished to the Phantom Zone for over 20 years before arriving on Earth, making her Earth-age younger than her cousin. Clark Kent had already graduated from university and had been working for over a decade, while Kara was just starting college.

Before the New 52 version, Kara had graduated, worked, entered a newsroom, and experienced a series of tumultuous events with her boss, a "lady demon" of the journalism world. During this period, Kara was more like a normal person.

The New 52 version of Supergirl, however, underwent a revamped setup: arriving on Earth unable to speak the local language; later showing no intention of blending into Earth's culture, consistently identifying as an alien, and possessing a more volatile temperament.

Schiller was relieved to have encountered the former. This Supergirl appeared quite normal, a perfect match for the currently radiant and sunny Gotham.

After a brief chat, Kara returned to training.

While cheerleading routines looked great on stage, the reality of daily training was tedious. Spending an entire afternoon correcting a single move was routine, and physical training followed once practice paused—just watching was exhausting.

Victor was animatedly chatting with the coach. The cheer squad's coach, a veteran of Gotham University, also moonlighted as a rehabilitation instructor for the sports department. He was an old acquaintance of Schiller's, and they would chat occasionally.

Schiller directed a portion of his attention toward Kara's training. She controlled her strength well, showcasing both agility and power without anything overly conspicuous. She appeared more mature and skilled than Superman had been as a new college student.

She also seemed genuinely fond of the sport. While rehearsing moves, she showed no signs of impatience. Like her peers, she tirelessly refined details and radiantly encouraged her teammates with cheerful smiles.

The conversation continued until their training session was over. Victor said to the coach, "Although the weather isn't as hot anymore, I doubt anyone would turn down some ice cream. I ordered delivery from that fizzy ice cream shop by the campus gate. Let's pick it up together in a bit."

Before the coach could respond, the cheer squad girls burst into excited cheers and rushed over, clamoring to collect the delivery. The coach called Kara and several other girls, leading them toward the gate.

Schiller spotted the delivery truck from afar, painted in bright red, white, and blue polka dots. The ice cream shop near the new campus area was none other than Harley Quinn's establishment.

After enduring last summer's heatwave, a slew of ice cream shops popped up like mushrooms after the rain. Harley, ever the savvy entrepreneur, seized the opportunity by opening a dessert shop primarily selling ice cream and fizzy soda. Its bold flavors and striking decor made it a hit among young people.

That said, the prices were steep. The most popular item, the jumbo fizzy float, went for five US dollars a cup. In an era when a bottle of cola cost only a few cents, this was considered quite expensive.

The fizzy float consisted of a tall cup filled with chilled fruit soda, loaded with ice cubes, and topped with a massive scoop of ice cream—emphasizing chill upon chill. One sip could send a brain-freezing jolt through your skull, but for Americans who habitually drank iced beverages, it was no big deal. The sales were robust.

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Still, for students, the price was a bit prohibitive. Usually, they pooled together for a single cup. This time, Victor ordered one cup per person, and as soon as the girls spotted the truck, they shrieked excitedly and dashed toward it.

Kara grabbed a grape-flavored fizzy float topped with mint chocolate ice cream. Additionally, there were lemon, pineapple, cherry, salted caramel, and maple flavors along with several smaller cups of soda.

Anna picked out a few and handed Schiller a yellow one; it was unclear whether it was lemon or pineapple.

Schiller didn't want to drink any, but seeing everyone else sipping, he grudgingly took a sip.

One sip was enough to confirm his instincts were right. The fizzy soda, theoretically refreshing, was actually loaded with an excessive amount of syrup, making it overwhelmingly sweet and icy. Schiller felt as though his taste buds had gone numb.

Holding the cup politely in his hand, he pretended to take another sip, admiring how the young women enthusiastically chugged their drinks without hesitation.

Kara came over and, flipping her hair back, smiled at Victor, saying, "Thanks a lot, Professor. We were planning to hang out at the ice cream shop this weekend."

"I hope I didn't disrupt your gathering. Best wishes for success in your upcoming competition." Victor raised his cup toward them, and the girls cheered, raising their own cups in response.

Having confirmed that Kara wouldn't cause any trouble, Schiller simply treated her as an ordinary student, not investing further attention. But just as they were leaving, Kara called out to him.

"Professor, could you do me a favor?"

"What's the matter?"

"Our major assignment next week involves interviewing a Gotham notable. I heard you're a renowned psychologist. May I have the honor of interviewing you?"

"When were you thinking of doing this?"

"Whenever you're free. Tomorrow morning or evening works for me, or the day after tomorrow at noon?"

"Tomorrow morning," Schiller replied. "You can find me in my office—sixth floor of the administrative building, third room on the right."

"Great, thank you so much, Professor! I'll start preparing my interview questions tonight—I hope my queries won't come off too abrupt."

"Not at all. Go ahead, miss."

Kara flashed Schiller a bright smile, waved, and left.

"Spending time with them makes me feel younger," Anna said while stretching. "It's a pity the math department never has this kind of vibrancy. Opening the door is like stepping into hell—surrounded by tortured souls."

"Not your fault—it's math's fault," Victor quipped.

"Did you hear? Professor Crane is back." Schiller sighed, "The chemistry department was so short-staffed they had to call him back."

"Jonathan Crane?" Victor raised an eyebrow. "That guy's trouble. He'll definitely try to take over my lab. He barely works with a handful of reagents, but he insists on monopolizing an entire cryogenic lab... No way, I need to send my team over immediately."

"Don't worry. Isn't Pamela working on her doctorate with you? She's not one to be intimidated by Jonathan." Schiller shook his head. "I still have papers to review—I'm heading back to the office."

Schiller parted ways with Anna and Victor, returning to his office alone. The new space was spacious and brightly lit, boasting floor-to-ceiling windows with remote-controlled curtains. Schiller grabbed the remote, drew the sheer curtains halfway closed, and settled at his desk to read through documents.

The fabric curtains diffused the sunlight into soft, subtle streams that floated gently on the polished marble floor. The greenery in the room exuded a refreshing aroma that mingled with the smell of coffee and the sun-warmed scent of wooden bookshelves, forming a lingering and pleasant bouquet.

Diana placed two cups of coffee in front of Clark and Bruce. Bruce rested both arms on the tabletop, cradling his coffee cup. Clark sat upright, explaining Kryptonian history to Diana.

"It's genuinely fascinating," Diana commented. "Forgive me for using so casual a word to describe your homeland, but for a civilization to perish in such a manner, I can't find a better way to express it."

Clark shook his head, seemingly unaffected by anyone's remarks about Krypton. He simply said, "At present, we're facing two issues: potential Kryptonians arriving, and the ongoing chaos caused by two pairs of Batman and Superman rampaging unchecked in Metropolis."

"The latter is a significant problem," Diana remarked, sipping her coffee. "I think we need to have a talk with them."

"Can you organize it, or should I call Hal back first?"

"To avoid you accusing me of recklessness again, you can call them back first. But I think I should handle it alone; otherwise, I fear they might have adverse reactions."

"It's settled then. I believe Hal can return as early as tonight; Arthur and Oliver might arrive tomorrow morning. Lex will arrange for a vehicle to pick them up from the airport."

"I heard Oliver made a trip to China and has been writing ever since. Do you know what Arthur's been up to lately?"

"His father fell ill. He's been caring for him at the Port of Mercy," Clark said. "He's essentially handed Atlantis entirely over to Mera."

"Is his condition serious?"

Clark shook his head. "Don't underestimate the resilience of Atlanteans. Despite being a half-blood, he carries the queen's lineage—he's already recovered."

"That's good." Diana paused before adding, "About half a month ago, Hera summoned me. It seems she's decided to abandon Zeus. I'm not sure if this works in our favor."

"What's her attitude?"

"She appears to be extending goodwill toward me, but I doubt she holds a favorable opinion of anyone from Paradise Island."

"At the very least, she's willing to make overtures toward you. It might signal a shift in the Olympus dynamic."

"Let's hope so. Zeus's indecision and ineptitude have caused untold suffering for the gods. Hera is more resolute, but I just hope she doesn't lead the gods down another extreme path."

During their discussion, Clark had already messaged Hal. Diana noticed his new phone and praised it, immediately earning a Death Stare from Bruce.

"Alright, Bruce. I'd love to use your invention, but you need to actually make it first," Diana said, teasing. "Hal's coming back soon. If you keep acting up, he'll definitely lock you in the hamster wheel again."

"I won't let him catch me," Bruce replied. "Last time, I was careless; this time, he won't stand a chance."

"Can't you resist rummaging through his files? With hundreds of Sectors in the cosmos keeping him busy, you're adding to his workload," Diana said, exasperated.

"I was testing new equipment, not intentionally provoking him. He's ridiculously petty," Bruce scowled. "He claimed I destroyed two months of work, but at most, it was half a month. He's such an exaggerator."

"Alright, you'd better behave for now..." Clark said.

"I need to borrow Lex's equipment," Bruce abruptly announced. "Take me to the Luthor Building."

"Borrow equipment? What for?"

"To develop a new phone."