[English][DC-Batman] Nora - Extra Chapter: If We Had Met in College 3.6— Who Is the Legend?

On a peaceful morning, Nora carried Max on her back as she followed Robert through the farm, tending to the crops together.

Standing among the rows of corn, Robert skillfully snapped off each ripe ear before passing it back to Nora.

Nora took the corn and placed it into the basket, occasionally bending down to pick a fully ripened tomato growing nearby.

Max had been awake for quite some time.

Strapped securely to Nora's back, he looked around with wide green eyes.

Every now and then, he reached out with his tiny hand, trying to catch the swaying corn leaves in front of him.

The entire Central Park was as quiet as ever.

Only the soft rustling of the crops in the wind filled the air.

Occasionally accompanied by birdsong.

And the sound of Sam's paws crossing the grass as she patrolled nearby.

This had been their life for the past month.

So peaceful that it was almost possible to forget they were living in the apocalypse.

Just as Robert picked another ear of corn and was about to hand it to Nora,

a completely different sound drifted in from the distance.

The two people and the dog stopped moving almost simultaneously.

The air suddenly became still.

Together, they turned toward the southern sky.

Nora narrowed her eyes, staring into the distance.

Her expression gradually became serious.

The sound grew louder.

Closer.

A steady, heavy rhythm beating against the air.

She knew exactly what it was.

The sound of helicopter rotors.

Robert saw it too.

Far off on the horizon, a helicopter was flying toward them.

His expression changed instantly.

The relaxed posture he had carried moments before disappeared as years of surviving the apocalypse took over.

He immediately stepped forward,

instinctively placing himself between Nora, the baby, and the approaching aircraft.

Sam lifted her head and barked continuously at the sky.

Her tail stopped wagging.

Every muscle in her body shifted into a state of alert.

Within only a few minutes, the helicopter had reached the area.

It didn't fly past.

Instead, it began circling overhead,

as though searching for a suitable landing site.

Judging by its flight pattern,

it intended to land somewhere nearby.

Robert's expression was full of conflict.

For more than a year, he had hoped to encounter other survivors.

Now that they had finally appeared,

he found that he couldn't relax at all.

Because he didn't know whether the people aboard were friends...

or enemies.

He didn't know whether they represented hope...

or another disaster.

But no matter what,

he had to find out.

As he stood there in silence, lost in thought,

Nora gently tapped his shoulder from behind.

Robert turned around.

Nora's expression was calm.

Her voice, however, was unwavering.

“Give me a gun too.”

“Let's go see who's there.”

Robert hesitated.

His first instinct was to refuse.

She was still carrying a baby.

It was too dangerous.

But the words stopped before they left his mouth.

Because over the past month,

Nora had already proven herself.

She wasn't someone who needed protecting.

During one hunting trip, she had dropped a running deer with a single shot from an incredible distance.

Even Robert had been impressed by her marksmanship.

Thinking of that,

he remained silent for a few seconds.

Then, in the end,

he nodded.

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They didn't take the SUV.

Robert believed the engine was too loud and would reveal their position too easily. If the newcomers hadn't come with good intentions, staying cautious was the wiser choice.

So the three of them, along with Sam, made their way toward the helicopter on foot.

No one spoke along the way.

Only the faint rustle of grass beneath their feet.

And the distant sound of the helicopter's rotors slowly winding down.

The closer they came to the landing site, the clearer the surroundings became.

Large patches of tall grass had been flattened by the powerful downdraft from the rotors, as though an invisible hand had pressed them into the earth.

As a result, the view ahead was unusually open.

Before long, they spotted the helicopter.

And beside it,

a lone figure stood waiting.

Robert walked in front, rifle in hand.

The muzzle was angled slightly downward.

He wasn't aiming directly at the stranger,

but he could raise the weapon in an instant if necessary.

His pace was slow.

Nora followed behind him with Max strapped to her back.

Sam walked quietly beside them, her ears standing high in alert.

As they gradually approached, the man who had been standing with his head lowered seemed to hear their footsteps.

Slowly,

he lifted his head.

Nora saw those familiar blue eyes.

She paused for a moment.

The man before her was still Tim.

Yet he was also different from the Tim she knew.

Perhaps it was the apocalypse.

Or perhaps he had simply lived many more years within this dream.

His features had become more mature.

There was a trace of hardship etched across his face.

He even looked older than the thirty-year-old Hockley from the Titanic dream.

His short black hair was tousled by the wind.

His lips were pressed into a thin line.

His blue eyes were calm and deep,

as though they carried countless thoughts left unspoken.

At the same time, Robert finally saw the stranger's face clearly.

He slowly lowered his rifle.

The face before him was far more mature than the young man he remembered,

but the familiar features were unmistakable.

In disbelief, he spoke.

“Major Drake?”

The man who had been addressed didn't hesitate for even a moment.

He immediately straightened his posture.

His right hand rose sharply to his brow in a textbook-perfect salute.

“Good to see you again, sir.”

Robert stood there for a moment.

Then he gave a small nod,

returning the salute that had resurfaced after so many years.

Just then,

a loud cry shattered the heavy silence.

Everyone turned toward the sound at the same time.

Max suddenly burst into tears.

Whether it was the wind during the walk over or the deafening noise of the helicopter, Nora couldn't tell.

She immediately fumbled to soothe him, gently patting his back while softly whispering comforting words.

Unfortunately, it didn't help at all.

If anything, Max cried even louder.

Tim glanced at the baby, whose face had turned bright red from crying.

Then he looked at Nora, who was beginning to panic.

Finally, he spoke.

“Nora.”

He called her name a little louder before quickly walking over.

Nora looked up.

Seeing Tim standing in front of her for real, she suddenly felt a little embarrassed.

In their previous dreams, she had been Rose or Motoko Kusanagi.

Now they were both appearing as themselves.

For some reason, that made her feel strangely exposed.

All she could do was offer him an awkward smile.

Tim didn't say anything.

His attention was entirely on the baby.

Looking at Max, who was still crying, he asked naturally,

“Want me to hold him?”

Nora looked down at the baby, who refused to calm down no matter what she tried.

With no other choice, she nodded.

She turned her back toward Tim,

allowing him to support Max's little body first.

Only then did she reach up and unfasten the buckle securing the baby carrier across her chest.

Tim smoothly took Max into his arms.

His hands naturally supported the baby's back and neck.

The motion was so practiced that it felt as though he had done it countless times before.

He lowered his head slightly,

speaking in a soft, gentle voice as he quietly comforted the little one still sniffling in his arms.

Standing nearby,

Robert watched the entire scene in silence.

He looked at the subordinate who had disappeared years ago and had finally returned.

He watched him cradle the baby with perfect, practiced ease.

He watched those blue eyes—usually so calm and composed—rest gently upon the tiny life in his arms.

A smile slowly spread across Robert's face.

So...

he had been wrong all along.

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Amy took a sip of her beer.

It had cost her a considerable amount of precious resources to obtain it.

In the apocalypse, alcohol was no longer an everyday commodity.

It was a luxury.

A single bottle could be traded for a substantial amount of food.

Or medicine.

Or even several days' worth of rations.

So no one was willing to drink it casually.

But today, she needed it.

She needed that faint warmth alcohol brought to her mind.

It had been a long time since she had gotten drunk.

She had always believed that drinking only caused trouble.

It slowed your judgment.

It dulled your reflexes.

In the apocalypse, a single mistake could cost you your life.

So she had rarely touched alcohol.

But today was different.

Today, she didn't want to stay completely sober.

She had once believed...

that she had a chance.

At the very least, no one had been by his side all these years.

The virus had broken out during Amy's second year after graduation.

Everything had happened too quickly.

The news grew more chaotic by the day.

The number of infections kept rising.

Violence began erupting in the streets.

Eventually, even the government lost control.

Terrified, she locked herself inside her apartment.

For two entire months.

Every day, she survived on the food she had stored at home.

The curtains remained tightly closed.

She didn't dare make too much noise.

She didn't dare go outside.

Only after the last packet of instant noodles and the last can of food were gone did she finally gather the courage to leave.

By then,

there were almost no living people left on the streets.

She had always believed that she was incredibly lucky.

Because just when she had reached her deepest despair,

she met the Major.

Timothy Drake.

Amy silently repeated the name in her heart.

Again.

And again.

As though it had long since become a habit.

Together with a group of other survivors, they established a shelter.

Nearly everything was placed under the Major's command.

Resource distribution.

Patrol assignments.

Farm planning.

Defensive fortifications.

Responses to the infected.

Whenever a problem arose, it always found its way to him.

And somehow,

he always found a solution.

He was truly brilliant.

Smarter than ten Amys put together.

Many things she had never even considered,

Tim had already anticipated and prepared for in advance.

Situations that everyone else saw as hopeless,

he could gradually turn into a path forward.

That was why everyone trusted him.

Why everyone was willing to follow him.

Amy was no exception.

There was only one difference.

Unlike everyone else,

she liked watching Tim.

Little by little, Amy began to notice things that only revealed themselves after spending a long time with someone.

He was actually very funny.

Every now and then, he would deliver a deadpan joke so serious that it took people a moment to realize he was kidding.

He was also incredibly stubborn.

Once he decided something was the right thing to do, he would see it through no matter how dangerous it was.

He was kind.

Whenever they went out on rescue missions, he was always the last one to leave.

He was thoughtful as well.

He always noticed the little things that everyone else overlooked.

He knew who was exhausted.

Who was injured.

Who insisted they were fine when they clearly weren't.

Those qualities weren't something she discovered all at once.

They accumulated little by little,

day after day,

through countless moments spent together.

Until one day,

she realized she couldn't take her eyes off him anymore.

Amy took another sip of her beer.

The bitter liquid slid down her throat.

It didn't taste good.

Yet somehow,

it was sweeter than the withered feeling in her heart.

She truly loved him.

So much that even she thought she was beyond saving.

She had never had a favorite color before.

Now,

blue had become her favorite.

Because his eyes

were that very shade of blue.

In a world like this,

many survivors simply found someone to be with.

Some needed someone to watch their back.

Some needed someone to lean on.

Some were simply afraid of being alone.

Love had become both a luxury

and something painfully practical.

But she didn't want that.

She didn't want to grow close to someone merely because she feared loneliness.

She liked the Major

simply because he was himself.

Almost everyone in the shelter could tell.

She had long since fallen hopelessly in love with the Major.

The only question was...

Did he know?

Amy stared at the bottle in her hand.

For a long time, she didn't move.

Then she realized something.

She wasn't actually sure whether she wanted to know the answer.

If she found out,

and it wasn't the answer she wanted...

what then?

So she chose to say nothing.

At least for now,

she could still remain by his side.

At least for now,

there was no one else by his side.

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Amy had always believed that as long as she never said anything...

As long as she quietly remained by his side...

Then maybe, someday,

she would have a chance.

But today,

everything finally had its answer.

Tim had been gone for three days.

That wasn't unusual in the shelter.

Sometimes he led teams out to search for supplies.

Sometimes he traveled to other areas to monitor the movements of the infected.

Occasionally, he went out alone on missions that only he could accomplish.

So everyone carried on with their daily routines.

The patrols patrolled.

The farmers farmed.

The cooks cooked.

Waiting for the Major to return.

Amy had been in an unusually good mood since early that morning.

She had even made a special trip to the kitchen.

When she pushed open the door, the room was already filled with the aroma of food.

Smiling, she said to the older man chopping vegetables,

“Make a few extra dishes the Major likes.”

“He should be back today.”

The cook paused, setting down his knife before looking up at her with an odd expression.

“The Major already radioed in.”

“He said he'll be bringing three people back.”

Amy blinked in surprise.

Then she smiled and nodded.

“That's wonderful.”

She accepted the news naturally.

So that was why the Major had gone out this time.

He had been searching for other survivors.

The thought made her even more excited.

The shelter was finally going to feel a little livelier again.

Time passed little by little.

Then the familiar sound echoed across the sky.

The helicopter's rotors spun at high speed,

drawing closer and closer.

Amy immediately set down what she was doing and hurried toward the landing pad.

She was moving even faster than usual.

The helicopter slowly descended.

Powerful winds stirred up dust and flattened the surrounding weeds.

The cabin door gradually opened.

The first person to step out was a Black man.

He was tall and powerfully built.

The hardships of the years were etched across his face.

Simply standing there gave him an imposing presence.

Next,

a German Shepherd leaped gracefully from the helicopter,

quietly taking its place beside the man.

Amy glanced at it.

She had never really liked dogs.

She preferred cats.

So her attention quickly shifted away.

The next moment,

she saw Tim.

Tim didn't step out immediately.

Instead, he turned around and extended a hand into the cabin.

A slender, fair-skinned hand gently rested in his palm.

Then—

a blonde woman with green eyes slowly appeared in the doorway.

A baby rested in her arms.

Because of the height between the helicopter and the ground,

Tim never let go of her hand.

He held it securely,

carefully guiding her down one step at a time.

Amy stood frozen.

Desperately searching for an explanation.

Maybe...

It was only because she was carrying a baby.

Getting out of the helicopter was difficult.

Maybe...

The Major was simply being a gentleman.

Maybe...

He was just making sure she didn't miss a step.

Maybe...

The ground was slippery today, so he was only helping her.

She came up with one reason after another.

Trying desperately to convince herself.

Again and again.

But...

it didn't work.

Not at all.

Because she had seen it.

She had seen those blue eyes—

the very eyes she loved most—

looking at someone else with unmistakable tenderness.

Standing at the back of the crowd,

Amy slowly lowered her head.

At last, she could no longer hold back her tears.

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