"Master Bruce, what have you found?"
"A silver coin."
Bruce examined the ancient-looking coin in his hand. "The front is engraved with an Owl. This should be an Athenian Owl, which first appeared on ancient Greek coins, representing wealth and power. I don't believe this is an ordinary coin."
Wiping off the mud from the coin, Bruce recited a nursery rhyme: "Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time. Hiding in Gotham City, in the shadows, in the grime. They're in your home, they're in your bed, they're in your mind, they're in your head. Never speak their name aloud—"
"Or Talon will come for your head. Alfred, have you heard this nursery rhyme?"
Alfred, on the other end of the communicator, was silent for a moment. "Master Bruce, you know this is just a nursery rhyme. They don't exist."
"I've seen this symbol before! A mysterious person was killed, and even after checking state and federal databases, I found no DNA records for him. This mysterious person, who died a tragic death, had an Owl symbol in his third molar, just like the design on this coin."
Bruce put away the coin and stood up, his gaze fixed on the hazy Gotham night.
"I know what you've been through, Master Bruce. You've been pursuing that elusive organization, but—"
"Alfred, I always thought I understood Gotham, but the truth is, I don't understand it at all."
Bruce interrupted his butler. "When I have too many thoughts, it means I feel countless blades at my back. And facing the threat of blades, I only remind myself to be more vigilant."
"I suspect that person just now must be connected to the Owl organization, or he—might be the Owl I've been searching for."
Bruce recalled Eric's every move, his eyes filled with seriousness.
To subdue him in an instant—if someone with such strength became his enemy, how could he fight him?
Unobservable strength, and a thorough understanding of him.
Bruce exhaled a mouthful of stale air, furrowed his brows, and looked at the city skyline in the distance.
A bolt of lightning tore through the night sky, illuminating the city, then vanished in an instant.
"I saw a fleeting moment of this city's truth, and even though it was brief, I still glimpsed it."
Meanwhile, the trio in the alley collectively breathed a sigh of relief after seeing Batman spread his wings and disappear into the night.
"I think Batman must be very frustrated."
The red-haired girl, Holly, said to the two, "He didn't succeed in defeating the villain."
The brown-haired boy disagreed with his companion. "The person holding the umbrella wasn't a villain. He gave us a dollar. Such a generous good person wouldn't be a bad guy."
The short boy agreed with the brown-haired boy, nodding. "I think Davey is right. The outsider with the umbrella is more powerful than Batman. How about we give him a nickname, like 'Umbrella Man'?"
"I think Mr. Oswald (Penguin) wouldn't be happy."
Davey, the leader of the trio, shook his head. "Let's put the nickname thing aside for now. Did you hear? Batman found a silver coin. Maybe we can find one too. Selina Sister would be very happy if we brought it back to her."
Davey said, looking at the unconscious gang members lying on the ground, his face full of eagerness.
Eric, walking on the streets of Gotham, was unaware of what was happening behind him.
However, he had already anticipated the "story triggered by a silver coin."
Because that silver coin was intentionally left by him for Batman.
He believed that with Batman's "great detective skills," he would soon investigate clues about the "Court of Owls" lurking in Gotham.
Even if Batman couldn't find those hidden rats, the spoils of war he brought from the Metropolis Owl Council—gold and silver items with distinct Owl features—could lure these Owls out.
What kind of plot would unfold when the Owls extended their feelers and were discovered by Batman?!
Eric expressed his anticipation.
To make Batman unlucky and also the Court of Owls unlucky—he always enjoyed such self-serving behavior.
Stepping on the rainwater beneath his feet, Eric pulled his thoughts back and focused his gaze on the building in front of him—the Iceberg Restaurant.
The brightly lit place was particularly dazzling in the rainy night.
This was one of the few places Eric had seen in Gotham that stayed lit all night.
The owner of the Iceberg Restaurant, Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, also known as Penguin, was the most powerful gang leader in New York, with astonishing power and wealth.
This Iceberg Restaurant, owned by Penguin, was one of the few places in Gotham that brazenly conducted underground transactions.
And Eric's reason for coming here was to conduct a transaction with Penguin.
Although he had little interest in getting involved with gangs, considering that Gotham had no better tool to utilize than Penguin, he ultimately had to come to the opponent's lair himself.
He closed his umbrella, pushed open the main door, and entered the restaurant.
A young waiter in a tuxedo immediately came up to greet him.
"Excuse me, sir, do you have a reservation?"
"Of course."
Eric showed the black umbrella in his hand to the waiter and said nonchalantly, "It was raining when I left, so I just grabbed an umbrella. It might be a bit strange, but this should be Penguin's umbrella, right?"
The umbrella in his hand was one he had casually taken from Penguin's home earlier. For him, with his super speed, it was an easy feat to take an umbrella without the other party noticing.
The two waiters exchanged glances, looking at each other in bewilderment.
The receptionist at the front desk saw the umbrella in Eric's hand and her expression changed. "Sir, please follow me."
The receptionist first used the communicator in her collar to whisper a few words to someone on the other end, then led Eric upstairs.
Along the way, many burly men in suits looked at Eric with ill intent.
They seemed ready to act at the slightest disagreement.
But Eric, who was receiving everyone's attention, maintained a calm expression, seemingly unconcerned about his impending fate.
The beautiful receptionist saw Eric's expression and felt a mix of admiration and pity.
After bringing Eric to Penguin's exclusive private room on the top floor, the receptionist withdrew.
Eric pushed the door, and the private room door opened.
In the luxurious room, a short, hawk-nosed man, dressed in a black suit with a gray tie and sparse but unruly hair, sat on the sofa, the light and shadows in the room covering half of his body.
Seeing Eric enter, the man's gaze fell on the umbrella in his hand, revealing a surprised and bewildered micro-expression.
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