A man appeared there.

He was dressed in a silver tuxedo-style suit with an elaborate purple lining and wore a comically oversized top hat, the kind that might conjure a live dove—or perhaps a dead one. But as he turned politely, the light around him dimmed unnaturally compared to the rest of the room, casting strange shadows that obscured his face.

Yet everyone could tell: he was smiling.

In the lounge where the Avengers had gathered, the chatter fell silent. Black Widow silently chambered a round in her gun.

Because this man hadn’t appeared at the door, knocked politely, and entered saying, “Allow me to show you a magic trick.”

He had appeared abruptly, outside the window, hovering in the air.

—After all, it was just a projection. No rule said a projection had to keep its feet on the ground.

The one closest to the window was Iron Man, who had been admiring the night view. He froze for a moment, but his reaction was remarkably calm. “What a dramatic entrance,” he quipped. “Is this some kind of hotel-sponsored magic show? Should I tip?”

As he spoke, parts of his Iron Man suit flew toward him, shielding his chest and head first, while forming a gauntleted hand. At the same time, Friday, his AI assistant, spoke in his ear with her calm synthetic voice: “No projection equipment detected. Scans indicate no physical presence in front of you.”

“Not surprising,” Tony replied. “We’re in Gotham, after all.”

In Gotham, anything was possible.

Friday added, “Switching to basic imaging systems. Comparing visuals… Identity matched: ‘Wandering Magician C.’ Official data indicates the character is fictional, with background fabricated and fleshed out by Justice League member Cyborg.”

“That just proves Cyborg couldn’t find any trace of this guy in the real world,” Tony mused. He’d researched Gotham’s enigmatic ‘Mr. C’ before. Whether through official channels or the superhero underground, there was no solid intel. “To prevent public panic, they had to invent a backstory for him instead.”

The other Avengers overheard this exchange. Meanwhile, the mysterious “Mr. C” remained still, his posture calm, his gaze unwavering, offering no other reaction.

Had there been any evidence of projection equipment, Tony might have assumed it was merely a hologram—albeit a rudimentary, static one.

Captain America picked up his shield and stood, Black Widow reluctantly set down her wine, and Iron Man opened the floor-to-ceiling window to fly outside. The group moved into a loose formation around the magician. Thor gripped his hammer, and Hawkeye raised his bow, calling out, “Care to join us for a drink, magician—or should I say, sorcerer?”

The projection tilted its head slightly, looking toward Hawkeye. Then, the man removed his hat and tossed it toward Clint. In the next instant, his entire body dissolved like a shattered bubble. Iron Man lunged forward, but his hands caught only air.

Tony muttered a curse under his breath, flew back inside, and asked Clint, “Well? What happened?”

The magician’s hat had passed straight through the glass—apparently also a projection—but became solid as it neared Clint. Despite his quick reflexes, he failed to dodge, and now the absurdly incongruous hat sat atop his head. Hawkeye remarked dryly, “…It smells like honey candy.”

The others: “?”

Clint removed the hat, which vanished the moment it left his hands. A cascade of honey candies rained down on him, along with a single card.

The card’s front bore a smiling cartoon face, while the back displayed an intricate bronze pattern.

“Hmm…” came a voice from behind them. Dr. Banner, the Hulk, adjusted his glasses and said, “Stark, you might want to take a look at this. Gotham’s Tourism Bureau just updated its official guide…”

Hawkeye gathered up the candies and the card, smiling. “It doesn’t seem hostile. A Children’s Day gift, maybe?”

Tony remarked, “So you got labeled a big kid.”

“But,” Natasha interjected, “your smile looks… unsettling.”

Hawkeye: “?”

“Yes,” Thor agreed. “You look far too happy. Did something good happen?”

“No,” Clint replied, baffled. Holding the card between two fingers, he unwrapped a candy and, before anyone could stop him, popped it into his mouth. “Honey candy. Just what it says on the tin.”

Captain America frowned, stepping forward to take the bronze-colored card from Clint. The moment he touched it, the tension in his jaw eased, and he too began to smile. “I think… hmm?”

Though he frowned again, he couldn’t help but continue smiling. “I think there’s something off about this card. And you shouldn’t have eaten that candy—we should’ve examined it first.”

“Sorry, I got too relaxed, Cap.” Hawkeye admitted his mistake, setting aside the candy wrapper, which depicted a gold coin. Among the candies, he also found two pieces of milk candy wrapped in diamond-patterned paper. The difference between the honey candy and milk candy was unclear—other than the flavor.

The card passed between the team members, spreading an infectious sense of ease and joy. Iron Man, watching from the air, silently flew back outside, finding the atmosphere inside increasingly nauseating.

In the end, Friday used a mechanical arm to secure the card.

…

Vivi didn’t bother observing what happened next. More projections would appear in due time, and people would gradually get used to it.

The items in the limited-time shop… were painfully expensive. Although Vivi had managed to collect 10,000 tokens just on the first day by completing five tasks, assembling the “Strange Circus (Limited Edition)” required 14,000 tokens. That was after a discount, since it was a limited-time structure. For other buildings, the required tokens for construction blocks were easily in the tens of thousands. Even assuming daily tasks netted 10,000 tokens, by the end of the seven-day event, Vivi would only have enough to assemble a small school. This was why the other four events were the real goldmines for farming tokens.

Currently, her tokens were slowly adding up. Vivi did the math: eliminating one Tin Soldier rewarded 100 sparklers, and obtaining Mr. C’s hat during his projection gave 600 sparklers. With Mr. C refreshing every half hour and spawning about five Tin Soldiers each time, these two activities alone could theoretically reward Vivi with up to 10 million tokens if she managed to clear every single task flawlessly.

But that was the catch—Vivi couldn’t possibly handle it all alone. To achieve the full 10 million, everyone in the city had to participate. No matter how dedicated she was, it was impossible to grind 10 million task points by herself.

The prospect of 10 million tokens dangled before her like a carrot, rendering other rewards like coins or ordinary cards unimportant.

Well, except for two: the limited-edition diamond cards and the gold card from the Goat’s Cabin event.

“First, I need to focus on building the Goat’s Cabin and the Strange Circus,” Vivi mused. “The circus can’t be built in South Hinckley. That area is meant for steady urban development. And what’s a circus without an audience?”

Having completed the task of gathering building materials for the Goat’s Cabin, Vivi was now heading to the East District’s underground network with the materials in tow. However, as soon as she pried open a manhole cover, the surveillance flowers transmitting footage from below made her expression turn strange.

Sheila, the “Rat Catcher,” was already down there.

That wasn’t surprising; the sewers were practically Sheila’s second home. What was new was her reaction to the renovated East District sewers: no foul odors, no rats scurrying about. Her rat companion, Scott, jumped off her shoulder and scurried in a chosen direction.

Behind her, a group of children adopted by a local church trailed after her, their footsteps echoing noisily. The kids were trying to act stealthy, making exaggerated “shush” gestures to each other, though their colorful balloons, tied to their wrists, added a bright splash to the dim underground.

Sheila was in pursuit of a squad of Tin Soldiers that had appeared near the church. This seven-member squad had earned the children’s wrath by turning three kids and Scott into jelly. While the jelly transformation only lasted 30 minutes, the group had collectively decided—after much chatter and planning—that they wanted revenge.

…But they couldn’t let the church’s volunteer caretaker, Millie, find out. Otherwise, the kids would be sent straight back to bed.

Sheila knew perfectly well that sneaking into the sewers at midnight wouldn’t earn her any adult support. She’d intended to come alone… but the other kids had the same idea.

You couldn’t expect East District kids to be overly obedient. The truly well-behaved ones had already gone to City Hall to work as the mayor’s secretary.

The moment Sheila, now “Rat Catcher” Flanagan, discovered the first stowaway child at the sewer entrance, she realized solo infiltration was no longer an option.

Through the eyes of her surveillance flowers, Vivi watched their chaotic, bumbling “battle” for a while before silently heading in the opposite direction.

She had no interest in babysitting. Hopefully, Sheila and the kids would have fun.

After laying down the construction materials, a faint tremor signaled the completion of her task. A door with the head of a black goat briefly appeared in front of her, then sank into the wall, vanishing without a trace.

Vivi had successfully completed the diamond-level task [Place the Goat’s Cabin], consuming 30 diamonds. Her token count now stood at 13,900—just one Tin Soldier away from buying all the blocks for the Strange Circus.

Dusting her hands off, Vivi prepared to pick a spot on the surface for the circus. But as she moved, her body jerked suddenly, forcing her to grab onto a sewer pipe and swing to the ceiling.

A shiny curved blade embedded itself in the spot where she had just stood, a glint of tin flashing briefly.

Vivi: “?”

“Oh? Are they attacking me now?” she remarked. Noticing a jelly bomb hurtling toward her from a hidden corner, she leapt down, swatted it aside with a stick, and began running. As she dodged, she recited aloud, “Jelly makes you jelly-like, rendering your body immobile for 30 minutes. The curved blade paralyzes you for 10 minutes. If you’re hit by a chocolate-bar lance, you shrink and get locked in a chocolate-ball prison for five minutes before returning to normal. Tin Soldiers don’t target the elderly, rarely attack office workers, but love to play with kids. Very on-theme for a Children’s Festival.”

As she ran, she paused mid-thought: “…Wait. Am I a kid?”

Ducking and weaving to avoid incoming jelly bombs and curved blades from every direction, Vivi mentally mapped out her next move. The Tin Soldiers’ small size made them excellent at hiding, while her human frame was an easy target. Their weapons posed no real danger—more like elaborate pranks. She had balloons, but she needed to lure the little nuisances to an open space before making her move.

By coincidence—

Sheila and her group had the same idea.

At a corner, the two groups abruptly ran into each other, both freezing in surprise before instinctively switching targets.

Vivi drew her Desert Eagle, while Sheila’s rat army charged at the Tin Soldiers peeking out from behind Vivi.

…

At the same time, in the mayor’s office.

No one could quite understand how the mayor’s ancient laptop managed to handle such a massive computational load—enough to run a sophisticated AI. This AI was currently controlling a robotic vacuum, which was circling the office aimlessly.

The office floor was already spotless, yet the robot kept going, as if caught in some deep internal conflict.

It was, quite possibly, the most angst-ridden robotic vacuum in existence.