[[Translator’s Note: This was a very long chapter! Hence, I will be skipping tomorrow’s update. I have gone through it but please let me know if any issues with this chapter. Happy reading!]]

* * *

What should you do if you’re surrounded by a bunch of cats?

Surrender immediately and offer them some fish?

Dick Grayson, AKA Nightwing, had once volunteered at the East End Cathedral shelter. After his initial surprise wore off, he quickly realized that these cats looked very familiar—weren’t they the same ones he’d seen around the cathedral?

Also, the East End had been unusually quiet lately. According to Tim, a group of cats had been guarding the area, focusing on Crime Alley and the Boiler District, while most able-bodied men had either been lured or forced into working on the sewer repairs. Given that Iceberg Enterprises was providing three meals a day and fair wages, no one seemed to mind much. The vigilantes were more than happy to let it happen.

Nightwing squinted at Vivi, who stood behind him. Vivi, meanwhile, crouched down, opened her palm, and made a couple of playful “tsk tsk” sounds.

Nightwing: “…” Hey, isn’t that how you play with dogs?

The black cat raised its paw angrily, swatting away the outstretched hand. “Don’t play dumb! I know you’re the one who turned me into this!”

But Vivi didn’t answer immediately. She withdrew her hand and stared at her palm.

The cat had pulled its claws back when it swatted her, not scratching her at all.

“Selina?” Vivi asked, now that she was up close. She noticed a small emblem of the “Cat Medallion” above the black cat’s head, though it didn’t appear on the map. “I think you can turn back into a human if you pass the medal’s test, right?”

After all, hadn’t Selina already transformed once during the Arkham mission?

The black cat hissed, its pupils narrowing, and suddenly leaped onto Vivi’s arm, climbing up to her shoulder. “My cats overheard your conversations, kid…”

Her tone shifted. “Why are you having Nightwing train you, anyway? You’re a girl, and Nightwing doesn’t understand how girls should fight.”

Nightwing: “…I strongly disagree with that.”

“Shut up,” Catwoman snapped at him before turning back to Vivi, trying to tempt her. “How about I train you instead? And you turn me back into a human.”

Vivi raised an eyebrow. “I thought the medal grants a reward if you’re worthy of it. Are you really willing to give up that reward?”

The black cat bared her teeth. “I don’t care about the reward! I just want to be human again!”

“Alright,” Vivi said thoughtfully, resting her chin on her hand. “But you’d better make sure your training is thorough, or there will be consequences.”

[Contract Established]

“Want to come to my estate?” Vivi added.

The black cat, now perched on her shoulder, licked a strand of her hair and replied coolly, “No thanks, you’re coming to the cathedral.”

Selina had no desire to step foot in that brat’s domain. She didn’t want to run into that strange being who had possessed the girl’s body—the one that felt too dangerous to approach. The cathedral was much safer.

The agreed training time with Catwoman was from 3 a.m. to 6 a.m., which left Nightwing utterly exasperated. “Do you ever sleep?” he groaned, only to be promptly swatted off a ledge by Catwoman.

That night felt like a trial run, with the black cat insisting on tagging along for their patrol. Throughout the night, Nightwing was subjected to Catwoman’s constant criticism of his techniques: “Too clumsy,” “Not agile enough,” “Stiff as a board,” and even “Your butt sticks out too much!”

^[1]TN: hahaha

Nightwing: “?”

Fine, he’d let it slide, considering she was currently a cat.

By 3 a.m., Nightwing had repeatedly tried to convince Vivi to head home and get some rest, but the girl, determined as ever, ran off with Catwoman instead.

“She’s definitely not going to grow taller,” Nightwing sighed, muttering to Tim over the comms. “Staying up all night has its consequences.”

The young Wayne family CEO, who also had a habit of staying up late, chuckled dryly. “Dick, are you talking about yourself?”

Nightwing: “…”

Well, which one of them hadn’t been Robin as a teenager? Was there anyone in the family, aside from Bruce, who’d grown taller than six feet?

From a distance, someone lowered a pair of binoculars.

He dialled a number, his voice fragmented by the wind: “Crane… I refuse…. the gas…”

The person on patrol tonight wasn’t Batman at all!

After hanging up the phone, the screen displayed a Gotham news report: Gotham’s billionaire, Bruce Wayne, was said to have been so smitten with a beautiful woman of African descent that he lost his senses and chased her all the way to Africa!

^[2]TN: I was a bit confused here. The author states someone from Africa and chased after her to India but later in the chapter another character references him going to Africa. I have just stuck to … Continue reading

Tch, maybe the old man would end up marrying ten or eight women in Africa, fathering a whole football team of kids, and then turning them all into Robins on a rotating schedule.

After all, to Batman, wasn’t Robin just a replaceable role?

…

Vivi climbed through a window into the cathedral’s tower and removed the invisible “medallion” from Catwoman. In seconds, the black cat’s body stretched and transformed into a naked woman with black hair.

Vivi: “…”

Catwoman, however, didn’t show the slightest bit of embarrassment. She casually rummaged through a storage chest in the tower, retrieving her clothes, whip, and various gadgets. She took her time dressing, utterly unfazed.

Vivi, meanwhile, could only look skyward in exasperation.

It was only after she was dressed that Catwoman sauntered over, playfully running her fingers along Vivi’s face with a mischievous grin. “Alright, kiddo, don’t worry—I won’t break our deal…”

Vivi had a feeling that the “consequences” she’d mentioned earlier weren’t just an idle threat.

Catwoman’s first lesson? Climbing.

“We’re not like those bats who can fly around,” the woman explained. “Cats, of course, have their own way of getting by.”

She demonstrated herself, then insisted that Vivi practice using her whip and other tools to scale a seven-story building.

Vivi: “…” She glanced at her newly acquired lv 1 whip skill.

Luckily, after three failed attempts, she managed to succeed.

As she stood on the rooftop, a hand reached over, wrapping around her waist. Catwoman said, “Are you just copying me? All your movements are exactly the same as mine, but our bodies have subtle differences. Everyone learns to adapt the techniques in their own way.”

Catwoman had taught her sisters before, so she was quite experienced. It didn’t take long for her to notice something unusual about Vivi.

She tightened her grip slightly, lifting the girl up a bit. “Tsk, your weight is off.”

Vivi was too light for the strength she displayed. Normally, with that kind of power, her stance would be unstable, yet she held firm. This girl was a mystery.

Vivi checked her skill list: Grappling Hook lv2, Climbing lv1, Whip lv1.

“So I can’t just copy your methods?”

Catwoman glanced at her. “Do you want me to climb all over Gotham to show you? Don’t you have your own style?”

Vivi thought for a moment.

She pulled out the water pipe.

“Well, isn’t that something,” Catwoman squinted at Vivi as she scaled the building using the pipe. “You’re lighter than most, but far stronger. That means you can support your own body weight with just your arms.”

It might not make much sense scientifically, but Catwoman, who grew up surviving by stealing in Crime Alley, wasn’t concerned with science. If it worked, it worked.

Next, Catwoman taught Vivi how to avoid injuries in combat, which movements best suited a woman’s physique, and how to absorb the shock from attacks. Even though it didn’t matter much if Vivi got hurt, she still learned.

Vivi picked up skills so quickly that Catwoman eventually moved on to other topics, like how to appraise the value of jewelry.

Vivi: “?” Sure, why not? She could use that!

And then there was how to steal, how to pick locks, how to escape…

By the time 6 a.m. rolled around, Vivi was still full of energy, while Catwoman was completely worn out, leaning against the wall with her eyes half-closed and a grumpy tone in her voice. “Alright, I’m heading back.”

“Better head back to the loft,” Vivi said. “I don’t feel like climbing the walls just to return your clothes.”

Catwoman caught the unspoken implication behind Vivi’s words. She opened her eyes, now looking like an enraged cat.

Then—

Vivi had her first real combat experience during that morning’s training!

After the fight, of course, it was Vivi—armed with her “Cat Medallion”—who shamelessly won the battle. She ended up carrying a sulking black cat by the scruff of its neck, knocking on the cathedral’s door.

Millie, who answered the door, blinked at Vivi, then looked at the cat. “Selina?”

The black cat meowed in defeat.

Vivi glanced around. The children were already awake, eating breakfast. They curiously eyed Vivi but stayed obediently in their seats. The women in charge of cooking and cleaning were busy working, and Millie had been focused on her laptop when they entered.

“Millie,” Vivi asked, “where’s that guy we met last time, Tal?”

After all, once the patients had recovered, there hadn’t been many men left in the cathedral, so Tal stood out.

This man, formerly known as the assassin “Talon,” had once killed Vivi but had been taken in by the cathedral due to his memory loss. However, he was still dangerous, especially if his memories returned.

“Oh,” Millie didn’t hide anything. “Tal’s been working security for City Hall lately.”

She blinked innocently. “I used to work for City Hall, didn’t I?”

“Of course, since he doesn’t have any qualifications, it’s just temporary work for now,” she added. “But Director Hogg says he’s doing well. Maybe he’ll go through the special process to become a full-time employee. Once he has a stable job, he’ll be all set.”

“He still hasn’t recovered his memory, huh…” Vivi smirked. “By the way, what were you frowning about earlier?”

Millie shook her head, closing her laptop. “It’s nothing. Wayne Enterprises recently donated a lot of supplies, so our living situation has stabilized. I was just planning a small thank-you banquet and drafting the invitation list.”

“But Mr. Wayne seems busy these days,” she said with a half-smile, remembering the recent news. “Only young Mr. Drake has agreed to attend.”

Vivi grinned. “I’ll be around the East End for a while, so maybe I can help out in the evenings.”

“That’d be great,” Millie replied, taking another look at Vivi’s conspicuous outfit. “But are you sure you want to wear that?”

Vivi: “…” Oh, right, she forgot to hide her identity again.

Well, does it really matter? Who would dare invade the Rose Garden?

After saying goodbye to Millie, Vivi stretched lazily in the morning sun. Across the street, a man in a baseball cap stood staring at the cathedral’s patchwork exterior, a blend of brown and white. The gnarled trees formed a natural part of the building’s rooftop.

When Vivi glanced his way again, the man had disappeared.

Probably just another visitor, she thought.

Recently, the cathedral has attracted a lot of tourists, influencers, and curious outsiders. Fearless, they came to take pictures—though Millie had cleverly roped most of them into becoming volunteers for a couple of days.

Vivi remembered today was the first day for the “THE1 Volunteer Organization,” also known as “Gotham’s New Environmental Organization.” By 7 a.m., they’d all return to Blackgate, waking up sore and achy in their beds, having completely forgotten what they’d done the night before.

It was time for the prisoners to queue up for the bus.

Vivi glanced at the map and then narrowed her eyes.

“Matches Malone…” she muttered in confusion, “How are you here?”

She was sure she hadn’t included Matches Malone on the list.

Pulling up the map of Blackgate Prison, she noticed a figure unconscious in the storage room for the hoods—a high-security prisoner.

“Matches Malone…” Vivi pieced it together. “I think I know why you have a professional title now…”

His profile wasn’t as straightforward as it appeared. His identity was likely a cover, and with his skills, he could be a special agent, perhaps?

Considering his title, either he was a famous agent, with “Matches Malone” being his codename, or he was a renowned detective using the same alias. Maybe he was even a retired agent who had become a detective? If so, he was probably hired to infiltrate Blackgate.

She couldn’t leave this guy in Blackgate Prison. Vivi mentally crossed him off the list, deciding she’d pull him out today.

After all, participating in a full night of forced labor while fully conscious, and then casually blending back into prison? Bold move.

And Penguin hadn’t noticed a thing? Vivi mentally crossed him off the list too! Time to throw him back into the underground cell, to become cellmates with Black Mask and Deathstroke again.

[Side Quest: The Secret of Matches Malone]

Description: You’ve discovered that Matches Malone is hiding something. Is he really a criminal? His identity raises many questions. It’s time to use your wit and detective skills, Detective Level 3.

Quest Reward: 20 Diamonds, 30,000 Coins.

The sudden activation of the quest made Vivi pause. She hadn’t triggered a new quest since the last mission ended, and “20 Diamonds” was never a trivial reward. This guy really was hiding something big.

…

Nightwing had collapsed into bed for a quick nap. He had planned to suit up and head to the location Vivi had given him around seven, which wasn’t far from Wayne Manor, so he figured he could sleep a bit longer.

But at 6:30, a text from the bank woke him up—Gotham Central Bank informing him that a safe deposit box had been stored for “Dick Grayson.”

After pondering who might have left something for him, he reluctantly crawled out of bed and went to retrieve the box.

If it had been for Nightwing, it might have been a bomb, but since it was for Dick Grayson…

The bank staff seemed as confused as he was. They opened the box in front of him, and—

Clink.

Gold coins spilled out, rolling across the carpet, and overflowing from the small box.

Dick picked up one coin, noting that one side had a “C” stamped on it and the other side had a “V.”

Dick: “…” He knew exactly who sent this.

He had thought Vivi’s “100 gold coins a day” promise was just a joke, like chocolate gold coins or something. But no—these were real gold coins!

—This was probably the highest-paying gig he’d ever had.

Dick sighed, and the bank staff, professional as ever, held back their surprise and helped him collect the coins. At the bottom of the box, they found a note with printed text that simply said, “Teaching Fee.”

While it seemed unlikely, Dick still donned gloves and placed the note into an evidence bag, just in case.

The bank manager, perhaps realizing the oddity of the situation, asked with a frown, “Do we need to file a report with the police?”

Dick’s lips twitched. “No, it’s related to a confidential case.”

The manager immediately understood. “We won’t speak a word of it.”

It seemed Mr. C knew Nightwing’s true identity. Dick wondered if Mr. C also knew that Bruce was going by the alias “Matches Malone.”

With the safe box tucked under his arm, he quickly called his brother Tim. “Tim, I think you need to make a trip to Blackgate Prison…”

It seemed their attempts at probing Mr. C were being treated as a joke, and before angering him further, it might be best to lay low.

Tim arrived at Blackgate at 7 a.m., moving quickly, exhausted from his night-long surveillance of Bruce’s car entering the prison. He had barely returned home when he was forced to switch out of his Robin gear and rush back to Blackgate.

But he was too late.

“Bruce Malone? Sorry,” the guard said with a polite smile to the Wayne Enterprise heir. “He’s already been bailed out. The person who posted bail took him with them.”

Impossible. Bruce’s tracker still showed him inside Blackgate.

“May I ask who bailed him out?” Tim asked, struggling to keep calm.

The guard pointed toward a car. Tim turned just in time to see it drive away. “He’s in that car. Five minutes ago, a young woman posted his bail. You just missed them, Mr. Drake.”

Tim: “…” Vivi?

Taking a deep breath, he thanked the guard and headed back to his own car.

What Tim didn’t know was that after he left, the guard made a quick call to the prison warden.

After hanging up, the guard scratched his head, muttering to himself, “First the warden, then a young lady, and now even Master Drake… When can I become as popular as that prisoner?”

Matches Malone doesn’t even look all that impressive!

…

If you find someone sneaking into your prison, trying to uncover your secrets, would you turn them into mincemeat?

For anyone else, Vivi would have done just that. But recalling how Matches Malone held back during their sparring match, she sighed. He was just a guy doing his job. The fact that he could blend in under Penguin’s nose without being discovered showed that he was really putting in the effort.

—Besides, Vivi had considered asking him to teach her combat skills. Since the mornings were reserved for Nightwing and the early hours for Catwoman, she figured the afternoons could be his domain.

So, sitting across from Matches Malone in the visitors’ room, she made her offer: “I bailed you out. You teach me combat skills. Fair trade, don’t you think?”

The proposal made sense to Bruce. He had completed the contact’s task specifically to get bailed out, and though he could have broken out last night, he stayed to investigate what was turning the prisoners into such mindless drones.

After making a deal with the warden, he was moved to a single cell closer to the training yard, avoiding the misfortune of being housed near the Joker. Bruce had thought his careful exit last night wouldn’t be detected. But now…

He frowned, pondering for a moment, then said, “Alright.”

He couldn’t find a reasonable excuse to decline. Refusing might mean a one-way trip to the bottom-level water cell.

Vivi had called a cab ahead of time, but when the car arrived at the Bristol County forest, it slowed to a stop in front of her estate, the driver confused. “Miss, there’s nothing here—just thick fog.”

Vivi: “?”

She turned to Bruce. “Do you see it too?”

Bruce, with a serious expression, nodded.

It seemed her estate was hidden in a shroud of mist from the outside. After paying the driver, she and Bruce stepped out of the car, disappearing into the fog under the driver’s watchful eyes.

Driver: “…That’s creepy!” He quickly turned his car around and drove off.

As the driver was leaving, another car passed him, heading straight into the fog.

Driver: “?” Gotham’s getting weirder by the day!

Who would drive straight into the fog like that? Once he had enough money, he was definitely moving to New York!

The newcomer was Dick. After calling Tim, he headed for the spot he and Vivi had agreed on. But, like the others, he saw nothing but mist. As soon as he entered, he ended up near the creek, turning around multiple times and only circling the area.

“Maybe I’m in some kind of magical forest,” he thought with a wry smile. “The gate must open at the designated time.”

The appointed time was eight o’clock. Noticing the car plate Tim had given him, Dick started the engine and waited in the forest.

…

Vivi watched as a car pulled up, and Nightwing jumped out.

Vivi: So vigilantes do drive cars!

She had thought they just swung from one side of the city to the other with their grappling hooks!

“Nightwing!” Vivi waved at him. “Over here.”

With a snap of her fingers, the grand gate of the Rose Estate slowly opened—

But to everyone else, it seemed as if the estate had appeared out of thin air.

The sprawling European-style manor was surrounded by vibrant roses in full bloom, some still budding, others already flourishing. Vivi motioned for Nightwing to follow, all the while introducing Matches Malone: “This guy’s a detective. You can call him Bruce. He’s also here for teaching, but he’s on in the afternoons.”

Matches Malone: “…Is that so?”

Nightwing fought to keep a straight face. Of course, he knew Bruce was a detective.

Not just any detective—he was the world’s greatest detective. He was Batman.

Batman had planned for unforeseen circumstances from the beginning. If his disguise didn’t hold up, or if their assumptions were wrong, what would he do? There were two possibilities: immediate exposure, or the other side deliberately keeping quiet, preferring to observe and enjoy the spectacle. Based on the psychological profile of Mr. C, the latter seemed more likely, which made this operation all the more dangerous.

But when was a Batman mission ever not dangerous?

If they could decipher Mr. C’s behavior patterns, and understand his methods, even Bruce’s disguise could be used as a form of testing. The results? Well, Dick had already received his—a small fortune in gold coins.

Originally, they had planned to send “safe words” through the Blackgate Prison cafeteria’s TV, encoded in Morse code. With Bruce’s tracking device, figuring out his actions should have been simple.

—Except Bruce’s movements in prison were anything but predictable.

Tim had even joked about it. He’d never seen an inmate’s location change so frequently!

Now, Dick thought it was time to help Bruce remember who he truly was, even if it was earlier than planned.

Vivi walked briskly ahead, so Dick slowed his steps, edging closer to Bruce, and whispered, “Martha…”

Bruce’s head snapped up. “What’s that?”

Dick paused, caught off guard, and followed Bruce’s gaze—landing on a statue that made his expression twist with disbelief.

“Oh…” Vivi squinted. “Just think of it as a quirk.”

But the statue had a luck boost effect, so it had to be placed outside. Since she’d invited Nightwing and not Batman, what harm was there in displaying a statue of Batman?

Bruce’s tone was rigid: “Batman?”

“Yeah,” Vivi said, “Have you seen him?”

He sees him in the mirror every day, Nightwing thought to himself.

“A criminal,” Bruce crossed his arms, “who maintains control over Gotham by breaking other criminals’ bones. I suspect he’ll end up in Blackgate one day too.”

Vivi frowned. “He’s a vigilante, though. The kind who doesn’t take money but still maintains peace in the city, like a good guy.”

Nightwing: “…” So the most important thing about being a vigilante to you is that they don’t get paid?

Bruce gave her a disapproving look. “You say you want to learn combat to become a vigilante? But what you should be doing is going to school, getting a job, becoming a scientist or a philanthropist. Either would be far more meaningful than flying around Gotham at night.”

And vigilantes can get hurt, they can die. At that thought, something tugged painfully at his heart.

Nightwing covered his face, now wondering what sort of memories Bruce might have been implanted with during that hypnotic session.

Vivi glanced curiously at Nightwing before she led Bruce to his guest room, brushing him off with, “I’ll work hard. I promise I’ll work hard.”

Who wouldn’t want to become a billionaire like Wayne? If she could just rob Wayne, she wouldn’t need to run so many accounts!

Their positions changed—Bruce walked in front, Vivi in the middle, and Nightwing trailing behind. Throughout this, Nightwing seemed like he wanted to say something but kept holding back. Finally, when they reached the training room on the second floor, he asked, “Shouldn’t we visit the owner of this estate first?”

Vivi: “Visit? This is my estate.”

Nightwing’s expression relaxed, as if relieved by something. “Alright then, let’s start today’s training.”

Then he nearly got kicked in the gut by Vivi—barely dodging in time.

Nightwing: “Wait, who taught you to fight like that?”

Vivi: “…Catwoman?”

Nightwing wiped his face with a hand. “Street fighting techniques… fine, I’ll fix that.”

During that morning’s lesson, Nightwing found many issues with Vivi’s fighting style: she didn’t know how to control her strength, and she had a tendency to trade blows—taking damage in exchange for landing hits on her opponent.

Not knowing how to control her strength meant she risked hurting others. Her willingness to trade blows meant she didn’t mind hurting herself either. This made sparring with her frustrating for Nightwing, but Vivi began to realize something—his fighting style was similar to Bruce’s. Were they both trained in the same school or something? Was this what they called “academics?”

Before leaving, Nightwing hesitated, then said, “I’ll be here every day.”

Of course, you’ll be here every day, Vivi thought. You’ve got a contract hanging over you.

For the next three days, Vivi followed this routine: mornings with Nightwing, afternoons with Bruce, nights patrolling the city, and early mornings training with Catwoman. Her skills improved rapidly, but she couldn’t shake a certain discomfort.

Catwoman didn’t seem to care how Vivi fought, more focused on teaching her to think like a cat. Bruce and Nightwing, on the other hand, discouraged her from trading injuries for blows, which felt like they were stifling her natural instincts as a player. In fact, she felt more in sync with Catwoman than the other two.

Another thing: with Bruce hanging around the estate, Vivi started feeling like she’d brought in a father figure to supervise her.

After being subjected to Bruce’s disapproving looks so many times, Vivi even felt guilty about her late-night patrols, skipping meals, and the times she broke a robber’s ribs… though only Nightwing knew about that last one. Somehow, it still felt like Bruce saw through everything.

So, she thought—

Why hasn’t the person behind him shown up yet?

Jason Todd was wondering the same thing. Why hadn’t Batman shown up?

It was May 9th, 3 a.m. Jason, wearing his homemade red hood, leaned against his bike, chewing on a piece of dry bread.

Scrolling through photos on his phone, he muttered to himself, “Batman’s been missing for seven days, and none of these idiots have noticed?”

Jason Todd was Bruce Wayne’s second adopted son and the second Robin. After being killed by the Joker, his body was taken by the League of Assassins and revived in the Lazarus Pit. The pit restored his body but left him feeling like a ghost, returned from hell. Every day since his revival, he grappled with the question: what was the point of being alive after crossing the boundary of death?

Jason finally found his answer. Batman’s way of fighting Gotham’s darkness wasn’t enough. Without the death penalty, criminals faced no real deterrent. If those who should have been dead were still alive in this world, then he would send them to hell himself.

The photos on his phone showed “Batman” training a strange girl. People on Twitter were already speculating about the new girl, wondering if there was a new Robin, but Jason knew that wasn’t possible—Tim Drake was still active on the Wayne Enterprises board. Tim was the one who replaced him as the third Robin.

As the replaced one, Jason was filled with rage. He had wanted to make Tim suffer a bit but held back because of Batman’s disappearance—maybe he was just projecting his anger, but blaming a dead man’s replacement felt too cruel.

“That’s clearly Nightwing, replacing the old man,” Jason muttered, looking at the news that claimed Bruce Wayne wasn’t injured from extreme sports this time but had gone to Africa. That meant something big had pulled him out of Gotham.

See, this is the downside of a vigilante’s identity being exposed—once someone knows who they are, it’s easy to track their movements through their public persona.

So… there’s no Batman in Gotham right now?

He swiped through the photos. The next one showed Catwoman standing close to the girl, almost too close.

Could this girl be the secret love child of Catwoman and Bruce? If it weren’t for the age discrepancy, Jason would have suspected she was Nightwing and Catwoman’s kid.

Otherwise, why would Nightwing be taking her on patrols, and why would Catwoman be teaching her to fight?

Jason had heard that the girl was calling herself “Night Watch” instead of Robin.

Jason had no faith in the men of his family when it came to self-control. Both Bruce and Dick were the kind of guys who wouldn’t hesitate to use seduction if it meant reaching their goals. Maybe their lives had been fantastic while he was gone? He tried to suppress these bitter and resentful thoughts, but they kept bubbling up, and Jason found himself breathing deeply to calm down before returning to his phone.

His wallpaper was a screenshot of Joker’s incarceration report.

“Bruce won’t kill you, but I will,” he whispered. “You’re scum, and the only way to stop you from causing more death is for you to be dead… but since you’re still in prison, I’ll be waiting.”

He was certain Joker would escape again. Arkham couldn’t hold him; what chance did Blackgate have?

And as for Batman…

Jason felt a heavy weight settle in his chest.

Since returning to Gotham, Jason had kept his identity a secret while methodically taking control of the city’s major drug dealers. His main rule was that drugs couldn’t be sold to teenagers. His method was simple: he killed their second-in-commands and threw their heads at the feet of the bosses.

Just like Gotham’s criminals had once speculated—if Batman started killing, he’d be worse than any of them. And Jason, having been raised by Batman, had learned at least 70% of the old man’s tricks.

After that, Jason’s new moniker, “Red Hood,” began to spread throughout Gotham’s underworld. His next plan had been to target Black Mask’s organization, only to find that Black Mask was already in prison and his remaining power had been absorbed by a construction company in the East End.

Jason: “…”

At that point, Jason hadn’t yet uncovered the existence of people like “Mr. C,” individuals out of the reach of most ordinary criminals. But he had heard about the chaos near East End’s cathedral, so recently, he’d been keeping an eye on the area.

Meanwhile, Scarecrow—Jonathan Crane—had somehow managed to get in contact with him, possibly because Jason had sent his men to investigate Batman’s whereabouts.

Crane likely thought the “Red Hood” was trying to become the next Black Mask, so he enthusiastically invited Jason to join his “Toxin” scheme. The fear-obsessed maniac wanted to control all of Gotham with his fear toxin, crowning himself as king. Jason’s role? To take care of Batman.

Jason doubted Crane had even earned his psychology professor title honestly.

Had this psycho even graduated elementary school?

The old Jason, the one devastated by his disappointment in Batman, might have impulsively joined the plan. But after realizing Batman was no longer in Gotham, Jason’s head had cleared. He stalled Crane, intending to uncover the full extent of his scheme.

But it seemed Crane was stalling Jason too—they were both waiting for the other to show their cards.

Tch.

He revved up his motorcycle, driving a short distance before suddenly hearing a girl’s rasping cries.

Jason made a sharp U-turn, skidding to a stop before leaping off the bike. With a swift movement, he vaulted up to the second floor of a nearby building.

This was Crime Alley—anything could happen here. He feared it might be…

“Just hang in there,” a weak female voice came from inside the room. “Just a little longer, sweetie. You have to kick this…”

Jason pressed against the wall, peeking in to see a woman cradling the crying girl in her arms. The woman’s arms were covered in scratches, likely from the girl’s frantic grip. “Once you kick this, we can get a job from Ms. Millie. No more… no more drugs.”

They were trying to build a new life. But shedding their old one came with pain.

Jason stood silently at the door for a long time before quietly returning to his bike. His hand idly traced the handlebars, thoughts of his own drug-addicted mother crossing his mind.

He started up his bike again, this time heading to a dimly lit bar with only a sleepy bartender in attendance. The man poured him a beer, and Jason thought he needed it to clear his head.

But just as Jason was about to take a sip, a firm male voice behind him declared, “No, ma’am! This is bribery—”

In Gotham’s Crime Alley, in the dead of night, a bar, and a man and woman were arguing.

Jason subtly glanced at the reflection in his beer glass.

He recognized the woman—it was Millie White, the head of the East End Cathedral. The man sitting across from her had an air of authority about him, not just from his outfit but also from his general presence. He had the demeanor of at least a middle-class citizen.

What the hell was going on here?

Jason’s previous impression of the cathedral had been positive. It didn’t feel like the orphanage he’d been in after losing his parents—the one where the headmistress trained the kids to steal for her. The cathedral was a genuine shelter… or at least that’s what he’d thought. But now, perhaps the truth was different.

Millie propped her chin on her hand, smiling sweetly. “No, no, this isn’t bribery, Director Hogg. It’s gratitude… from the children.”

“I know how hard it was for Tal to get this job, given how suspicious his background is,” Millie said with a gentle smile. “But the children are all thrilled. Tal is kind and reliable, and they’re so happy he’s going to the old district to work as an officer. They pooled together their pocket money to buy a bag of potatoes for you. I hope you don’t mind that it’s just potatoes…”

The man across from her chuckled helplessly. “But I didn’t do anything. It’s Tal himself who’s excellent and responsible. He often takes on difficult tasks, and he’s getting rewarded simply because he deserves it…”

Jason turned his gaze away, silently staring into his beer glass.

Alright… so the truth wasn’t what he had thought.

He pushed his hood up to reveal his mouth and raised his glass—just as the bar door swung open.

In walked a fully-dressed Catwoman, followed by a brunette girl.

“I don’t even drink…” the girl complained. “And I’m not paying for your drink. You can buy it yourself.”

“Such a penny-pincher,” Selina smirked. “But I’ve gotta have a drink; it’s been days since I had one.” She turned her head, spotting Millie. “Millie?”

Millie stood up, then suddenly remembered something and glanced at Director Hogg from the City Hall Guard Department. Hogg was staring down at his glass. “I’m off duty now, and catching criminals isn’t part of my job anyway.”

Catwoman scoffed, though she didn’t say anything further. Millie gave the man a grateful smile, then moved to embrace Selina, lightly patting the girl on the shoulder as she added, “I’ll treat you both. How about an orange juice, Vivi?”

The girl who had just entered was, of course, Vivi, and it was almost four in the morning—prime time for cats.

Vivi hesitated. “…Alright.”

Over the past few days, Bruce had repeatedly asked her why she never seemed to eat or drink.

Vivi didn’t know how to answer. Maybe it was because, to her, the food in the game didn’t feel real, just like the people in it? Still, drinking a little wouldn’t hurt… probably?

She glanced around the nearly empty bar, her eyes landing briefly on the hooded stranger who remained still in his seat. He was the only unfamiliar person in the room, and the title above his head read [Criminal].

Oddly enough, though, he was marked with a green name—indicating he wasn’t hostile toward Mayor Anna, Warden Bella, the mysterious Mr. C, or even Vivi herself.

What a strange guy, a green-name criminal? Should she even bother arresting him? What crime had he committed, anyway?

…Maybe she’d deal with it after having her drink.

Vivi turned away but froze mid-motion.

[You have received the side quest: Scarecrow’s Scheme.]

[Quest Description: The escaped Scarecrow has devised a malicious plan. Once enacted, it will throw Gotham into chaos. Your choices will influence how events unfold—you may unlock a dungeon or perhaps prevent disaster before it even begins. What will you do?]

[Quest Hint: Find Scarecrow first.]

[Quest Reward: 0~200 diamonds, 0~500,000 coins.]