Gotham City was originally established by four great families, but over the years, the city had evolved far beyond its original design.

The shadows had long since stretched their hands toward Gotham, and its power dynamics had grown more complex. It was as if all the world’s sins were drawn to this cursed city. But wealth also poured in. New criminals and affluent families emerged, creating a tangled web of factions. The Rothschild name wasn’t well-known but carried significant heritage, while Lady Rothschild’s maiden name was somewhat less distinguished.

The study door opened. Tim lifted his skirt slightly and curtsied before briskly stepping forward. Vivi, slipping in unnoticed behind him, caught sight of the woman’s features.

Lady Rothschild was in her fifties, but time had not been cruel to her.

Her golden hair was loosely pinned up, and her bright blue eyes gave her a youthful appearance. Her skin was meticulously maintained, showing no signs of sagging, and her posture was straight, devoid of the stoop that came with age.

She could easily pass for someone in her thirties, though the heavy lines on her forehead gave her an authoritative air, like a stern headmistress glaring down at misbehaving students.

This demeanor was no surprise—Vivi had heard the mayor frequently complain about being scolded by her. According to what Vivi knew, Lady Rothschild rarely stayed up late. She valued her skin too much for that. Yet, at this hour, she was clearly pulling an all-nighter.

Lady Rothschild gave a soft cough, not bothering to look up as she ordered Tim to have the maids bring her some tea. Tim, who had replaced a personal maid, quickly set the household bustling. The entire estate seemed to awaken from slumber, springing into action around its sole mistress.

As Lady Rothschild left to retire, Vivi took her place at the desk.

The desk was neatly organized, with various photos carefully sorted. Some were personal shots of the mayor; others included pictures of the Talons. It was obvious that Lady Rothschild had sent a maid to contact Peter Chris after his disguise.

The map showed that Lady Rothschild had returned to her bedroom, and the house gradually quieted down again. After some time, the door silently opened, and the glasses-wearing maid walked straight to the desk, placing a tray with a glass of milk beside Vivi.

Vivi instinctively glanced at her system panel. She hadn’t canceled her title effects.

Tim, no longer using his fake voice, gave an exasperated chuckle. “What are you doing here? And why are you with Red Hood?”

Vivi removed the title that reduced her presence and asked, “Maybe for the same reason you’re here? By the way, how can you see me?”

Tim shrugged, picking up a cookie from the tray. “I programmed my gear to deliver a slight electric shock whenever your face gets detected. It alerts me you’re nearby. But I can’t actually see you—my subconscious tells me no one’s there, which makes me realize my subconscious is lying. So I gave myself a mental trigger to counter it. Don’t bother asking what it is. Everyone’s entitled to their secrets.”

Of course, this only worked after he had obtained a proper facial model of her.

As a detective, Tim’s relentless desire for the truth never waned. His mind constantly sought to understand and solve mysteries, moving from one question to the next. Only the allure of unsolved puzzles kept him going.

Vivi, only half-listening, realized this wasn’t her field of expertise. But she also understood that Tim had likely been investigating Lady Rothschild for some time. Once he uncovered her ties to the Court of Owls, it wouldn’t be long before he turned his sights on the mayor.

Vivi sighed slowly, a tinge of resignation in the gesture.

Batman never involved himself in politics, and Anna, as mayor, had done nothing wrong. But Vivi certainly didn’t want surveillance cameras filling the study.

“I feel like you know something I don’t,” Tim said.

“And I bet you know something I need,” Vivi countered.

“An exchange?” Tim offered.

“Pass,” Vivi replied, standing and pushing the chair back. “I suggest you investigate it yourself—it’ll be more fun.”

She noticed Red Hood’s blue marker on her map. He was now directly above them, having moved from the garden to the rooftop. Judging by the lack of disturbance outside, he hadn’t been spotted.

“She was once the eldest daughter of the Alek family,” Tim began, “but in high society, she was far less famous than her beautiful younger sister. Later, she married into the Rothschild family. Over the decades, the Rothschild men died one after another in ‘accidents,’ leaving Lady Rothschild with immense wealth, including ownership of Goldfinch Bank.”

Tim frowned. “Now, the Rothschild family has no heirs. If Lady Rothschild chooses a successor, the only viable candidate is Anna Alek, the mayor.”

“Consider that bit of info a freebie.”

Vivi froze. “…Excuse me?”

---

[Estimated End-of-Month Debt Payment: 8.24 million gold coins]
[Bank Name: Goldfinch Bank]
[When the bank is destroyed, debt collection is paused during reconstruction, and players will not be pursued.]

Vivi felt as if she’d misheard.

Had she nearly blown up her own bank?

---

City Hall.

The security department patrolled the building 24/7 on rotating shifts. Since joining as a City Hall guard, Olivia had barely caught a glimpse of the mayor.

It was well-known that the mayor lived in her office suite. But honestly, Olivia thought, why wouldn’t the mayor let herself live a little better?

In Olivia’s memory, no person of status would confine themselves to a small room next to their office all day. The mayor seemed to have no personal life, no hobbies, no romance, no exercise, and no social activities—completely absorbed in her work.

However, Olivia had heard unreliable rumors. Some said the mayor had built secret tunnels under her office to evade assassins and ensure her safety. These tunnels supposedly connected to Gotham’s main districts and even housed a boat for her to escape the city in dire situations.

In the same breath, people claimed the mayor had both a boyfriend and a girlfriend, and that she owned a towering penthouse in the Diamond District where she spent entire days with her lovers.

Olivia didn’t believe such rumors but couldn’t help wondering if the mayor did have a rich and secret private life, given how rarely she was seen.

What Olivia could never imagine, however, was that the mayor’s “private life” involved flying across Gotham’s night sky in full uniform.

As a woman in a field dominated by physical strength and combat ability, Olivia knew she had to work twice as hard as her male colleagues to prove her worth. She prided herself on being more patient, more vigilant, and more resilient—hoping to become indispensable and irreplaceable.

So when she noticed the lights in the mayor’s office turning on at 5 a.m., she immediately paid attention.

Startled, Olivia instructed her teammate to stand guard at the door and quickly stepped forward, knocking on it.

The mayor, inside, looked puzzled but smiled when she saw Olivia. Before Olivia could feel too awkward, the mayor said warmly, “It’s great to see someone up at this hour. Would you mind filling in as my driver? I’ll make sure you get paid overtime.”

Of course, Olivia agreed.

The mayor sat in the back seat while her companion rode in the passenger seat, tasked with ensuring her safety.

Olivia was nervous. She was driving for her boss’s boss—Gotham’s top official—and the woman was idly staring at her phone in the back seat.

Was Olivia about to drive her to the penthouse or some romantic rendezvous in a secluded alley? However, the destination was clearly Gotham County, far from any such speculation.

Halfway there, Olivia switched duties with her colleague to keep them both alert. As they neared the destination, she mustered her courage and asked, “Ms. Alek, is something troubling you?”

The mayor looked surprised but paused, as if considering, before replying, “Yes, actually.”

There was a moment of hesitation, then she continued, almost like she wanted advice. “What would you say about someone who’s always willing to help you, but every time you ask for help, they scold you? What does that mean?”

Noting that the mayor referred to a “she,” Olivia hesitated. “Is it possible you only go to her when you need help?”

The mayor pondered this. “I suppose so.”

Despairing internally, Olivia asked cautiously, “Are you trying to win her back?”

“No,” the mayor replied flatly. “I still need her help.”

Olivia: “…” Could you at least try not to sound so unapologetically manipulative?

Swallowing her disbelief, Olivia offered cautiously, “She probably cares deeply about you. From her perspective, though, it might seem like you’re always taking her for granted. She’s hurt but can’t let go, so she’s upset with you…”

If her own boyfriend acted like this, Olivia thought, she’d have broken his legs long ago. This was blatant exploitation. Was there even love here, or just convenient use of the other person?

But this was her boss, so Olivia bit her tongue. “So, are you worried she won’t help you this time?”

“If she doesn’t, I might do something drastic,” the mayor mused, as though contemplating. “Like blowing up a bank or something. So it’s better for her to just help me.”

Olivia: “…”

Her idealized image of the mayor, born from rumors and her boss’s impressive achievements, shattered entirely.

I hope you get arrested soon, Olivia thought silently.

“Maybe you should show some vulnerability,” Olivia suggested weakly. “She seems to care for you a lot. Perhaps bring her flowers or a gift?”

The mayor raised an eyebrow. “A lover? No, she’s not my lover. She’s my aunt. But you’re right—a gift would be appropriate.”

After Tim’s tip, Vivi had investigated Goldfinch Bank. Its legal representative currently resided in the Netherlands, with a clean record, likely another member of the Court of Owls—or perhaps just a figurehead.

Still, the last time Vivi had called Lady Rothschild, she had secured an 8-million-gold loan with a single phone call.

Lady Rothschild truly was a generous person!

Surely, such a kind soul wouldn’t mind helping her dear niece pay off the 8.24-million-gold debt, interest included.

---

Lady Rothschild hadn’t fallen asleep yet.

Her night time routine involved over two hours of skincare, usually culminating in her drifting off during a maid’s massage. Tonight, however, her slumber was restless.

She had a peculiar dream: her home was overrun by cats of all kinds. Some were lounging indoors, while others were parkouring across the rooftop. She shouted for her head maid to drive them away, but no one answered, leaving her trembling with frustration.

Startled awake by her anger, Lady Rothschild realized only half an hour had passed. Her head maid approached with a troubled expression and leaned in to whisper, “Madam, Miss Anna has come to visit you.”

“Send her—” the lady began sharply, her instinctive reaction to say “away,” but she stopped herself mid-sentence. Furrowing her brow, she took a deep breath. “Let her in. I’ll tidy up and come down to see her.”

Her tone implied she intended to leave her niece waiting for at least an hour or two.

But the head maid’s expression grew even more peculiar. In a hushed voice, she added, “Miss Anna brought gifts. A lot of gifts. Where should we put them?”

Why was she asking such a ridiculous question?

Lady Rothschild couldn’t comprehend it. Still, the mention of gifts slightly improved her mood. “Handle them the usual way. By the way, didn’t anyone draw the curtains?”

Outside, everything was pitch black—unusual at this hour.

“No,” the head maid replied, “It’s because of Miss Anna’s gifts… they’re… the gargoyles. They’re blocking the windows.”

Hundreds of gargoyles filled the sky, dropping clusters of red roses at the mansion’s doorstep. All the maids had crowded inside, staring in astonishment at the scene. The villa was now entirely surrounded by gargoyles, and the growing sea of roses threatened to bury the estate.

The city had a designated number of roses earmarked for transplanting, but Vivi’s manor could grow a fresh batch every three days. As a result, surplus roses piled up in her spatial inventory—flowers that couldn’t be sold but had to be gifted according to system requirements.

Even after setting aside enough for the festival three days later, she still had tens of thousands of roses left with no practical use. Vivi had been fretting about how to get rid of them.

Inspired by Olivia’s suggestion, she decided they could serve as a gift. She considered this a way of expressing gratitude to Lady Rothschild, who, by accepting them, would help her clear out this overwhelming inventory.

Vivi hoped her kind aunt would understand the gesture—a sincere attempt to mend their relationship—when she saw the roses.