Chapter 62: Yin and Yang
Chapter 62: Yin and Yang
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Because of the earthquake, Harleen's original four-story apartment building had been reduced to three floors, with only some rooms on the third floor retaining their roofs. The rest were covered by towering trees, with plants serving as reinforcements to support the unstable structure.
It was clear that this wasn't Ivy's first time coming here—she had done an excellent job with the greenery. Dean stepped carefully, noticing that the thick vegetation beneath his feet concealed what was once a concrete floor.
"It seems like your life after being discharged from the hospital is going pretty well," Dean remarked, his tone carrying a hint of amusement as he surveyed the scene before him.
As they moved deeper into an area filled with lush greenery, Ivy's complexion visibly improved. The dense foliage seemed to invigorate her, making her appear more at ease. Several vines extended from the surrounding flora, lifting her gracefully into the branches where they wove together to form a makeshift net bed.
Ivy stretched out on her side, her body shifting from a normal flesh tone to a soft, pale green as she basked in the comfort of her element. "Dean, take off your glasses already. Let's be honest with each other," she said, gazing down at him from her elevated position.
The moment he removed his glasses, Harleen also recognized Dean's true identity. However, her demeanor remained unchanged. "The demon cop is here," she muttered flatly. "I don't know what you're up to this time."
Dean crossed his arms. "Call out the other Harley—I know she's here," he stated firmly.
Harleen sighed, clearly displeased, but she complied nonetheless. Without another word, she walked toward the innermost part of the wooded area. Among a group of peacefully sleeping cats and dogs, she found the one she was looking for.
"Harley, wake up," Harleen called out.
Nestled among the animals, Harley was deep in slumber, holding a few of them in her arms like oversized plush toys. When she heard her name, she groggily cracked one eye open, a look of exhaustion evident on her face.
"Harleen… why'd you wake me up?" she grumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Is it lunchtime already?"
Harleen, unfazed, replied evenly, "Trouble is coming."
The word "trouble" had an immediate effect on Harley, snapping her out of her sleepy daze. She perked up instantly, her eyes wide with anticipation.
"Ooooh! Is it the handsome little bat?" she asked excitedly. "Or is it that stalker Gordon? Oh no, don't tell me, Harleen—" Her expression suddenly turned exaggeratedly horrified. "It's the scariest guy here, isn't it?!"
Before she could get an answer, Harley hurriedly snatched up her beloved baseball bat and wiped away the drool at the corner of her mouth. She bolted from the bushes, still dressed in her pajamas, ready to take on whatever—or whoever—was waiting for her.
And then—she slipped.
With zero grace, she collapsed onto her knees directly in front of Dean, hands clasped together in a pleading gesture.
"Please don't confiscate my house, Mr. Heinz!" she begged, her voice full of desperation. "I swear I'll come up with the money for the maintenance fees in a month! Just give me a little more time, pretty please!"
She even squeezed out a few fake tears for extra effect, internally cursing herself for not preparing lemon slices in advance to make them more convincing.
Then, she tilted her head up to look at Dean properly… and confusion spread across her face.
"Wait a second," she muttered. "Why does Mr. Heinz have long hair?"
A beat of silence passed before realization struck her like a lightning bolt. She immediately pointed a finger at Dean's face, her eyes widening.
"Wait! If you're not the bald Heinz, then that means I just kneeled down for nothing?!"
Harleen, watching from behind, spoke in a slow, deliberate tone. "If you change your perspective, Heinz hasn't arrived yet… which means we still have time to raise the money, Harriet."
Hearing this, Harley immediately brightened. She rested her baseball bat on her shoulder and grinned. "Harleen is still the smart one," she said, nodding approvingly.
Dean, meanwhile, was still trying to process the rollercoaster of conversation he had just witnessed. This woman's thought process was completely unpredictable. Shaking his head, he decided to direct his attention to the only somewhat normal person present.
"Okay, hold on," he interrupted. "Who exactly is this Mr. Heinz? Because I'm struggling to believe that something actually managed to scare Harley Quinn of all people into submission."
Harleen adjusted her glasses with a neutral expression. "He's the lawyer in charge of evaluating whether we can afford to keep this apartment building," she explained.
Dean listened attentively as she elaborated. This apartment complex was structured into four floors—the first floor housed a commercial center with a collection of odd shops, the second floor contained eight residential units for tenants, the third floor had originally been used for wood storage but was now transformed into an ecological park thanks to Ivy, and the fourth floor served as the home of both Harley and Harleen. The entire open space behind the building also belonged to them.
"But the better something is, the higher the cost," Harleen continued. "Maintaining this place requires a significant amount of money each month, covering real estate taxes, insurance, and daily upkeep. While we do have rental income, it only covers 45% of the total expenses. The remaining balance comes out of our own pockets."
Dean now understood why Harleen had gone back to working at Arkham Asylum, despite the dangers involved. He had to admit, her ability to handle the lunatics in that place was impressive.
"But because of the recent earthquake, our home suffered major damage, and we need a large sum to repair it," Harleen continued, her tone calm as she recounted the situation. "I also lost my job. When Arkham's inmates escaped during the disaster, especially the clown I was responsible for, Dean Quinzi decided that I should take an indefinite 'vacation.'"
She let out a slow sigh. "Harley and I have to raise fifty thousand dollars before Mr. Heinz arrives, or we'll lose ownership of this apartment. It's the only legal source of income we have left."
Harley clung to Harleen's arm, shaking it as she whined, "I used to have a high-paying job, but it wasn't exactly stable and tended to attract unwanted attention from a certain bat…"
Dean smirked knowingly. "I'm going to take a wild guess and say that 'high-paying job' involved robbing banks?"
Harley gasped dramatically. "Wow, you really are a good cop," she said with mock admiration. "Unlike the one I met last night."
Her expression darkened, and she gritted her teeth. "My little darlings have to spend another night in that prison cell. I have to rescue them today!"
Dean raised a hand, his voice flat. "Oh no. I'm the cop you sprayed in the face with perfume last night."
Harley blinked. Then, recognition dawned on her face.
"Ah-ha! I knew you smelled like my favorite perfume! But wait… you're not… you don't look like…"
A slow smirk stretched across her lips.
"You're telling me you're that guy? That means you're—YOU BASTARD COP!"
Without missing a beat, she lifted her baseball bat and lunged at him.
But someone else moved even faster.
"DUANG!"
Harley collapsed instantly.
Harleen, holding a baseball bat with a Joker pattern on it, calmly lowered the weapon before grabbing the unconscious Harley by the ankle. Without a hint of hesitation, she started dragging her across the grass.
Dean watched in silence as Harley's limp body left a trail through the soft earth, her head occasionally bumping against stray tree roots.
"You've seen her before," Harleen remarked emotionlessly. "I'll drag her back first."
Dean remained quiet for a long moment before finally speaking. "Do they always interact like this?"
Perched on her vine-woven net bed, Ivy swayed slightly, her delicate body shifting with the natural motion of the plants. She looked entirely at peace, as if she had seen this happen countless times before.
She exhaled slowly. "Their issues aren't important. What is important," she said, her piercing green eyes locking onto Dean, "is why you're here. Are you looking for me?"
Dean hesitated. He had, in fact, come here for Harley and Harleen—but the way Ivy was staring at him, almost daring him to confirm it, made him rethink his phrasing. His instincts screamed at him that giving the wrong answer now would be a terrible mistake.
Not to mention, the two enormous Venus flytraps positioned on either side of Ivy had started shifting toward him.
Dean's lips curved into a small, strategic smile. "I just wanted to check in on Harley," he said smoothly. "And, of course, see how you were doing."
Ivy's expression softened slightly. "Oh? Checking in on me?"
Dean nodded. "That's right."
Ivy adjusted her position, reclining on her net bed as the plants beneath her shifted to provide better support. The way she moved was almost hypnotic, her fingers idly brushing over the silver bell around her neck.
"I returned to the Gotham Botanical Gardens," she said. "I'm a researcher again."
Dean raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the ease in her voice.
"My life has never been better," Ivy continued. "After getting this bell, my thoughts have become so much clearer. The relentless urge to destroy humans is gone. I can think again, without that constant anxiety telling me I need to wipe out your entire species."
Dean stared at her for a moment, processing the weight of her words.
"For the first time," Ivy added, "protecting plants is no longer a mission I have to complete. It's simply something I choose to do—whenever I feel like it."
There was something in her tone that made Dean pause. She wasn't just talking about a shift in priorities—this was liberation.
She tilted her head slightly, her emerald hair cascading over one shoulder. "I feel like myself again," she murmured, almost to herself.
Dean remained silent, watching her carefully.
Then, she smiled and flicked the silver bell hanging around her neck.
"See? I keep it here so I can always hear the sound of it ringing."
Dean's eyes finally landed on the small, delicate bell swaying gently against her collarbone. Only now did he truly notice it—the comfort bell he had given her.
His brow twitched.
"I'm glad to hear you're doing better," he said sincerely. But then his gaze flickered between the bell and Ivy's exposed neckline, and he hesitated.
"...But Ivy, don't you think it's a little indecent to wear it there?"
Ivy tilted her head. "What do you mean?"
Dean cleared his throat. "I mean… something about it just feels off. I've definitely seen this kind of setup before, but I can't quite place it…"
At that moment, a dog—one of Harley's many strays—came bounding over, its tiny legs kicking up dirt as it ran toward Ivy.
With every step, the bell around its neck jingled loudly.
Dean blinked. Then his eyes darted between the dog and Ivy.
His expression froze.
Ivy, still lounging on her vine-woven bed, casually tilted her head in the exact same way as the dog. The silver bell around her neck swayed with the motion, jingling softly.
"...Ah," Dean muttered. "Now I remember."
His expression became complicated.
"But I like it," Ivy said simply, clearly oblivious to his internal crisis.
Dean, however, was no longer mentally present.
Harleen, who had been watching from the shadows, finally couldn't take it anymore.
She turned around and walked away, she needed a break. If this kept going, what was stopping these two from getting married tomorrow?!
Harleen wasn't having it.
No way in hell.
So, in a deliberate move, she stepped in between them, effectively breaking whatever bizarre atmosphere had started forming.
"Alright," she interrupted flatly. "Harley needs to go rest. And as for us—" She glanced at Ivy before deliberately turning to Dean.
"We need to talk."
She made sure to emphasize the 'we'.
Dean exhaled slowly. He got the message.
"Alright, alright," he said, lifting his hands in surrender. He turned to Ivy. "I'll check in with you again later."
Ivy, still unfazed, simply waved a hand lazily. "Go on."
With that, Harleen led Dean toward the Slaughter Wax Museum on the first floor of the building.
The moment they stepped inside, the temperature seemed to drop.
The museum was filled with lifelike wax figures of infamous killers, but the most disturbing part was how realistic some of them looked.
Dean's eyes instinctively landed on one particular figure—a baseball player—whose wax-covered face looked a little too natural.
"...Harleen," Dean muttered.
"Hm?"
"That's… an actual corpse, isn't it?"
Harleen barely blinked. "Yup."
Dean exhaled sharply. "...Of course it is."
Moving forward, Harleen stopped in front of one specific wax figure—one wearing a purple suit, with green hair and a wide, exaggerated grin.
The Joker
Harleen reached out, lightly touching the wax replica's face.
"...That was a very bad conversation," she muttered, almost to herself.
Dean frowned. "What do you mean?"
Harleen didn't look at him.
Instead, she exhaled and muttered, "I'm guessing you're like Ivy."
Dean blinked. "...What?"
Harleen finally turned to face him.
"You've never been in love before, have you?"
Dean didn't feel embarrassed or flustered at Harleen's blunt observation.
He simply crossed his arms and said, "I just spent my energy in the right place—fighting crime, training, staying in peak condition. Didn't you do the same before becoming Harley Quinn?"
Harleen tilted her head slightly, considering his words.
"You practiced gymnastics, worked toward your doctorate, landed a high-paying career—" Dean paused, his voice remaining steady, "—though I suppose the ending wasn't ideal."
Harleen scoffed, turning her attention back to the Joker's wax figure.
"Yeah, in the eyes of the world, I'm just some pathetic woman who was sweet-talked by a clown and threw away twenty-plus years of life for him. Became a… clown.jpg," she muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Dean remained silent, letting her talk.
Even in the higher three-dimensional world, most people only recognized Harley Quinn, not Harleen Quinzel. It was as if she had never truly existed—only the Joker's shadow, a disposable pawn in his chaos.
"But Harley Quinn did love the Joker," Harleen admitted, voice quieter. "She gave everything for him. And in the end, he still threw her away."
Her fingers ghosted over the Joker's frozen, waxen grin.
"So I came back," she murmured.
Not reborn—but resurrected.
Because Harleen Quinzel had never truly died. She had just been buried under the madness.
Until something set her free.
"That's when Harley happened to come across this," Harleen said, reaching into her clothing.
She slid her hand between the folds of her shirt, between the soft peaks of her chest, and slowly pulled out a glowing pendant.
Dean's breath caught.
It wasn't just any pendant.
It was a Tiger Talisman.
And not just any Tiger Talisman—it was active.
Harleen watched his expression shift, a small smirk playing on her lips. She twirled the pendant between her fingers.
"You came here for this, didn't you?" she asked.
Dean exhaled sharply.
"Yes."
Harleen didn't react right away. She simply tilted her head, letting the pendant dangle between them like bait.
Then, just as smoothly as she had revealed it, she tucked it back into her shirt.
"This little thing separated me from Harley," she said nonchalantly. "I already knew someone would come for it eventually."
Dean forced his expression to remain neutral. "The thing you're talking about is called the Tiger Talisman. It has the power to balance yin and yang. When someone holds it, it forcibly splits their body into two individuals—one good, one evil."
Harleen's expression didn't change.
Dean's eyes narrowed slightly.
"This is the reason you exist separately from Harley," he continued, watching her closely. "But that's not important right now. What I need is the full Tiger Talisman. That's why I'm here."
Harleen's smirk faded. Her voice turned cold.
"Don't worry," she said flatly.
Dean tensed.
"I didn't say I'd give it to you."
The air in the room seemed to grow heavier.
Dean's fingers twitched instinctively toward his weapon, but he forced himself to stay still.
Harleen's eyes gleamed with quiet amusement. "What's wrong, officer?" she teased. "Are you thinking about taking it by force?"
Dean inhaled through his nose, steadying himself.
Truthfully?
Yes.
The thought had crossed his mind. But he dismissed it almost as quickly as it came. He clenched his jaw. No. That wasn't why he came here. From the beginning, Dean had approached this as a visit, not an interrogation.
Why?
Because someone had erased Harley Quinn's criminal record. Every charge, every crime, wiped clean. Now, from a legal standpoint, both Harley and Harleen were nothing more than ordinary Gotham citizens.
And as much as he hated to admit it…
Dean had no legal grounds to confiscate the Tiger Talisman.
That fact gnawed at him.
Harley herself was a maniac, and thanks to the talisman's separation of her good and evil, her madness had only become purer. Dean had no doubt she would spill blood again.
The only question was when. And yet, despite this, Harleen Quinzel was different.
She was law-abiding. Hardworking. Conscientious. Hell, the way the tenants in this building protected her made it painfully clear—Harleen was important to them.
So if she refused to hand over the talisman, Dean's hands were tied. Unless…
He crossed a line. A line he never wanted to cross. Since becoming a cop, Dean had taken many lives—but not once had he killed in cold blood.
Every death by his hands had been in the line of duty—defensive, justified.
If he took the talisman from Harleen by force, that would change. He'd be stealing. He'd be violating the law himself. That would make him no different from the criminals he hunted. Dean exhaled slowly, forcing his hands to unclench.
The worst part?
If the Tiger Talisman were just some stolen artifact, this wouldn't even be a problem.
But that wasn't the case.
If he reunited the two halves, Harley and Harleen would become one person again. And after starting a new life, after finally being free, could he really just… erase her like that?
Would that be justice? Would it be right?
Batman had asked him a question once.
"If you had to choose between saving the majority or the minority, which would you pick?"
"Neither. But if killing a villain meant saving an innocent life, I wouldn't hesitate."
At the time, Dean thought he had been clever, dodging the real question.
But now?
Now he was standing at the crossroads of that very dilemma. Collecting the talismans was undeniably the right thing to do. But to do it… he had to destroy Harleen's new life. Could he really choose so decisively?
Dean finally broke the silence. "I won't take the Tiger Talisman from you,"
Harleen quirked an eyebrow.
"But," Dean continued, his voice sharpening, "can you at least tell me how you got it?"
Harleen's expression shifted. And then—
SNAP.
She snapped her fingers.
"Fifty thousand dollars."
Harleen smirked. "We need fifty grand to fix the house."
Dean's jaw twitched. Damn it. He was really starting to hate this version of Harleen. Her timing was way too precise, and the worst part? He needed the information.
The Court of Owls had sunk into the ocean along with their secrets.
Right now, the Tiger Talisman was the only lead he had. If Harleen knew something about the other talismans, then Dean couldn't afford to walk away. But fifty thousand dollars…
That wasn't pocket change. Even with his recent case bonuses, he wasn't even close to that amount.
"Maybe I should apply for high-risk, high-investment funding," Dean muttered, rubbing his forehead. "The budget for superhuman crime should at least match the Major Crimes Unit's…"
Dean thought to himself and murmured, "Okay, okay, I promise to raise the fifty thousand dollars and give it to you. Harleen, can you tell me the information first? This is very important. Also, someone else is collecting talismans. You also have to watch Harley. Don't let her go out and smash things, break stuff, or rob anyone. Her skin is so pale—it stands out too much."
Harleen's pupils shrank behind her glasses as she listened to Dean's words. She glanced at a small budding flower in the corner.
Before today, she had never seen a real plant inside the wax museum. Harleen held her chin, seemingly deep in thought, but in reality, she was analyzing the flower.
And soon, she confirmed—it was real. It seems her best friend really cares about this policeman...
Harleen turned her gaze back to Dean, who was still talking, oblivious to her scrutiny. She focused on his lips as they moved, opening and closing.
Then, she leaned in.
Dean wasn't expecting Harleen to do that at all.
He couldn't completely avoid her "sudden attack", but at the last moment, he turned his face slightly—causing her kiss to land at an awkward angle instead.
Harleen was not happy with that reaction.
Over Dean's shoulder, she saw the little flower in the corner trembling violently, as if it had been deeply startled.
Harleen had planned this carefully.
Whether they actually kissed or not—it didn't matter. From the right angle, it would look the same. Her lips curled into a satisfied crescent.
Finally, Dean composed himself, ready to push her away before she could take it further, but before he could react—
He heard her whisper coldly in his ear.
"I'm going to tell you the information about the talisman now. If you dare to push me away… you will bear the consequences."
He had no choice but to stay still, forced to act as a human pillow.
Fortunately, Harleen didn't take it any further. She simply held him there, as if she had already won. As he listened to her whispered words, Dean's eyes slowly widened in realization.
He completely ignored the deal he had just made with her. And then—he shoved her away.
"It's actually like this… It's wrong… I was wrong!"
He repeated it again. And again. Then, without another word—Dean rushed out of the wax museum, never looking back.
Harleen remained where she was, unmoved.
Even after being pushed away, she didn't react. Her expression was calm, indifferent—completely contradicting her actions from just moments ago.
She placed a finger lightly on her lips.
Then, in a soft but icy voice, she murmured:
"What a ruthless man…"
A slow, knowing smirk formed on her face.
"I hope he doesn't think he was taking advantage of me just now," she whispered. "Because that… that was actually me sexually harassing him."
Her fingers brushed against her lips again.
"Of course, it wasn't out of love… but out of revenge."
Her gaze darkened.
"Revenge for having my beloved things taken away…"
She let her hand fall and turned her attention toward the lifelike wax figure of the Joker.
Complex emotions flashed in her eyes.
"Joker… Clown… Little Pudding… Haha…"
She let out a small laugh, her fingers tracing the Joker's frozen, smiling face.
"Harley really does love you."
Even after everything.
Even after you used her.
Even after you threw her away.
Even now—she still thinks about you.
"But…"
Harleen's fingers curled into a tight fist.
"I am Harleen."
She stepped back, gripping something hidden behind her.
"I don't need you."
Her voice was steady, but her hands were trembling slightly. She would prove it.
To the Joker.
To the world.
To herself.
Harleen lifted a slender dagger—the one held by the wax figure of the Joker. Expression cold and unreadable, she raised the blade and, without hesitation—
She dismembered the Joker's wax figure, cutting into the corpse-like material without mercy.
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[Item Acquired]
[Name: Tiger Talisman (Yin)]
[Type: Other]
[Quality: ★★]
[Attribute: Divine
[Special Effect: Split Yin and Yang]
[Description: When complete, it forms an octagonal rune stone, engraved with the symbol of the Tiger from the twelve zodiac signs. It balances opposing forces. When split, it separates an individual into two—one pure good, one pure evil.
PS: Yin and Yang—there is me in you, and you in me. Good and evil—who can truly say where the line is drawn?]
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