Tony’s test results came back quickly: the candy was harmless—apart from being excessively sweet. The card, however, showed an energy signature, though it had evidently caused no harm.

Steve learned about the Tin Soldier squads and decided to take a walk to see for himself if they truly didn’t hurt anyone. However, it became clear he wasn’t their target audience—perhaps children born before WWII didn’t count as “kids.” He returned empty-handed, purchasing only a bottle of water before heading back to the hotel.

Steve’s disguise consisted of just a mask, but since it was late, he didn’t draw attention to his striking blond hair and athletic build.

On the hotel’s first floor, Steve noticed a woman who seemed unwell.

She had silky black hair, delicate wrists, and perfectly straight calves that tensed as she stood waiting for the elevator. Yet she coughed softly, her brow clouded with an air of melancholy, and her pale face occasionally contorted with pain. Her complexion was so pallid that anyone who saw her would immediately recognize her as someone gravely ill.

But if you locked eyes with her, as Steve did now—

“Do you need help?”

Vivi raised her head and met his gaze. The man offering his assistance looked young, polite, and restrained. After a brief pause, she replied calmly, “No.”

Yes, just like Steve was realizing now, looking into her eyes made it clear: she didn’t need help. On the contrary, she was fragile yet dangerous.

Bearing the title of [Black Sheep], Vivi reached her destination after the man left the elevator—the top floor of Wayne Hotel.

Apparently, she had rented out the entire floor—for a whole month.

…Quite wealthy, indeed.

The guiding task concluded, triggering the next objective: “Speak with Talia al Ghul.”

Vivi realized she needed a new identity, one unconnected to her previous personas. Her existing aliases were too closely tied together, which occasionally made it inconvenient to handle private matters. Daisy Diamond—DD—was a professor from England and the mayor’s aunt, but that didn’t mean she had to side with the mayor.

At least, not right now. Vivi could leverage her [Black Sheep] title to craft a new persona for Professor Daisy Diamond.

The only problem was… Daisy was incredibly frail. Just walking from the hotel entrance to the elevator had left Vivi feeling “weakened” again.

Of course, players couldn’t feel pain. Other characters could die if hit in a vital spot, but DD had a unique health bar. Large movements, running, or shouting caused her health to drain faster. Resting in a warm environment allowed it to recover slowly.

As a result, Vivi was “forced” to behave like a refined lady—if only to avoid scattering her corpses across the city.

Following the prompt, she leisurely made her way to the person named Talia. Talia was a stunning woman, and beside her stood a green-eyed boy with dark skin, scrutinizing Vivi.

Ignoring them both, Vivi carefully sat on a chair, watching as her health bar stopped depleting. She let out a quiet sigh of relief and opened her map.

Vivi: “…”

The map showed not only the two people in front of her and her “students” outside (some of whom inexplicably included burly, bearded men in their forties), but countless red dots surrounding the area. All the red dots shared the same profession: [Assassin (League of Assassins)].

The dark-haired boy frowned, while Talia smiled elegantly at Vivi. “Professor, I need your help—”

She pressed a button, and a wall turned transparent, revealing a group of “students” in the adjacent room, poring over documents. Honestly, they weren’t very respectful. None had greeted Vivi when she entered, wholly absorbed in their work.

Vivi could tell they were attempting to decipher a parchment spread across a desk. Some were sweating profusely; others stared blankly, their expressions intense. Though the scene exuded an academic atmosphere, to Vivi, it looked more like a gathering of lunatics.

“I know you’re an expert in ancient linguistics, fluent in classical Arabic and ancient Greek,” Talia continued. “Recently, the Department of Mysticism at Bletchley University made significant breakthroughs and invited you to help decipher a manuscript…”

Vivi maintained a blank expression. She had no recollection of any “manuscript,” but it was clear this guiding NPC was laying out her backstory.

The woman paused, and Vivi realized it was her turn to speak.

Slowing her speech, Vivi said, “You have something written in the same language as that manuscript, and you want me to translate it?”

“Precisely,” Talia replied, standing up and stepping closer. She gently lifted a strand of Vivi’s black hair. “That’s why I invited you to Gotham, Professor.”

This operation had been concealed from Talia’s father, Ra’s al Ghul. She needed a plausible excuse and an untraceable location. Sending Damian to his father seemed reasonable, and Gotham was chaotic enough to cover any strange occurrences—or so Talia had thought.

Well, Gotham had been chaotic enough once. A few mysterious deaths among her father’s “own people” here wouldn’t have raised suspicion.

“But you tried to escape, Professor,” Talia said, kneeling on one knee on the chair where Daisy was seated, her hand pressing against Daisy’s neck. “I don’t have time to waste, and you’ve wasted mine. If you don’t finish translating this document today, you might lose your head.”

“I suggest you step back,” said Professor Daisy, remarkably calm despite being overshadowed by Talia’s threatening presence. There wasn’t even a trace of fear in her gray eyes, only a fleeting look of resignation.

Talia: “?”

“Because I’m about to suffocate. I’ll die from lack of air before my head has a chance to leave my shoulders,” Vivi sighed. “Threats of death don’t work on me.”

She had originally considered saying ‘my health bar will hit zero,’ but remembered that the updated system prohibited meta remarks, so she switched to suffocation instead.

Talia stared into Daisy’s face, puzzled by how someone could be so fragile.

She released her grip and turned toward the transparent wall. “Your students…”

Her voice trailed off, frustration flickering in her expression. She realized she had nothing she could use to truly threaten Daisy Diamond. Based on what she knew of the students and professors from Bletchley University, they were about as unhinged as the patients in Arkham.

Bletchley University, located in the quaint British town of Bletchley, was a prestigious institution, second only to Oxford and Cambridge. Its departments of Mysticism and Ancient History were among the best in the world, rivaling Miskatonic University. For Daisy to have become a professor of Ancient Linguistics at just 24 years old could only mean one thing—

Daisy Diamond was far more insane than her students.

The League of Assassins was unstable, and Talia’s father was dealing with his own troubles. This led Talia to bring Damian to Gotham City, believing that, while Batman might take him away, he would at least be protected by his father.

But now, Bruce Wayne wasn’t even in Gotham. Only his sidekicks remained, and the city had become anything but ordinary.

“I can look at the parchment,” Vivi said after completing the previous conversational task, which unlocked a new objective: translating the parchment. She wondered why Daisy’s questline seemed so long. “But I can’t promise you anything.”

Without a word, several figures emerged from behind Vivi, knocked out her students, and handed over the parchment. Vivi took one glance at it, and a progress bar began to load. Simultaneously, her health bar started to drop.

…This is why support characters shouldn’t run blood-draining builds!

Frowning, she closed her eyes. When her health stopped depleting, the progress bar also paused.

“I can translate it,” Professor Daisy said, her voice faint, “but I’ll need time. And medical attention—it’s a heavy burden for me.”

Her breathing was labored, and her physical condition was visibly poor.

Talia had anticipated something like this. She frowned briefly before relaxing and deciding to leave a few loyal assassins behind to guard the parchment. However, Damian suddenly spoke up.

“I can stay and watch her.”

“No, that’s not part of the plan,” Talia replied. “You’re supposed to go to Batman, Damian.”

“You call him a warrior,” Damian said, turning his head, “but he’s not even in Gotham. He’s abandoned his city. Where do you intend to send me next?”

“You should meet your father—”

Vivi coughed twice, interrupting. She addressed the assassins behind her. “Could someone please grab me a blanket? Oh, and bring that wheelchair from the corner over here…”

The assassins didn’t move. Vivi turned her gaze to Damian, who broke off his conversation with Talia to glance at them. Only then did the assassins act.

“Since you’ve brought it over, push me to see my students,” Vivi continued, “and call a doctor while you’re at it. I know they’re here.”

They were indeed there—just unconscious, courtesy of the League of Assassins.

Faced with the choice of listening to more family drama or checking on what she considered her “property,” Vivi chose the latter.

Her students had a teacher-student relationship with Daisy, and the doctors were under her employment. Neither were enemies, so Vivi could check their stats simply by approaching them.

The assassins complied. As her health began to recover, Vivi happily inspected the stats of the students and doctors. The awakened doctors hooked her up to an IV of glucose and administered two light blue injections, doubling her recovery speed. After convincing the medical staff to rest, she focused on the task at hand.

The only one to enter her room after that was Damian.

The boy folded the parchment neatly, placing it against his chest. He glanced at the assassins, who left along with Talia. Vivi opened her map and confirmed their departure.

“Congratulations on winning this round of rebellion,” Vivi said to Damian. “What should I call you?”

“Whatever you like,” he replied.

Vivi requested the parchment from him. As her health drained dangerously low, she set the parchment aside to recover before resuming her work. She repeated this cycle—translating a little, resting, and continuing.

The room now contained only Vivi and Damian. Talia had truly left her “important document” under the care of a child.

During this time, Damian was quietly observing the woman before him.

He had a vague idea of what was written on the parchment—some secret legend or spell. She seemed just as insane as her students, but given that she was a professor from Bletchley, that wasn’t surprising. At that university, both students and faculty had an unusual obsession with knowledge. They pursued it as if it were the only true wealth in life. That was likely why Talia sought out Daisy Diamond—because even if there was nothing to threaten her with, her thirst for knowledge would compel her to seek it out willingly.

Damian pretended to nap for a while but was startled awake by the sound of a wheelchair rolling. Instinctively, his hand pressed against the hilt of the knife at his waist. He saw it was Daisy, who simply said, “Awake? If you’re up, push me downstairs.”

With a wheelchair at her disposal, she could now confidently avoid walking altogether.

Damian frowned. “Where are you going?”

Was she abandoning the task of deciphering the parchment?

“To watch the circus performance,” she replied, pointing at the clock on the wall, which showed nearly 7 o’clock. “Your people have left, so it falls on you to push my wheelchair.”

Damian glanced at the parchment spread out on the table, scoffing softly as he collected it. Placing his hands on the wheelchair’s handles, he realized something—he was only slightly taller than the wheelchair.

Vivi suggested casually, “Or… maybe wake one of my students?”

Damian: “…”