The morning sun hit Gotham with the reluctance of a man going to a job he hated.
I, however, was already wide awake. In fact, I hadn't slept. Demons don't strictly need sleep, though we can enjoy it as a luxury. Last night, I had spent the hours cleaning the foyer, removing every microscopic trace of mud the unwelcome guests had left behind.
Now, at 7:00 AM sharp, the manor was spotless. The silver shone, the wood gleamed, and the scent of freshly baked scones wafted from the kitchen.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The heavy brass knocker echoed through the hall.
"Right on schedule," I muttered, adjusting my cuff links.
I opened the door.
Standing there was a man in a rumpled beige trench coat that looked like it had been slept in. He had a thick mustache, glasses that kept sliding down his nose, and the weary eyes of a man who had seen too much of Gotham's ugliness.
Detective James Gordon. Or, considering the timeline, perhaps just Sergeant Gordon at this point.
"Good morning," I said, offering a polite bow. "May I help you, Officer?"
Gordon blinked, looking me up and down. He seemed surprised to see someone so... pristine.
"Yeah. Detective Gordon, GCPD," he flashed a badge. "I'm looking for... well, is there a guardian or a head of staff present? We got reports of gunfire here last night."
"Gunfire?" I feigned shock, placing a hand over my chest. "Good heavens. In this neighborhood?"
Gordon narrowed his eyes. He was a good cop; he could smell a lie. But I was a demon; I could sell ice to a snowman.
"Neighbors reported multiple shots around 8 PM. And we found four men tied up with... well, with tablecloths... about a mile down the road. They were babbling about a 'demon butler'."
He looked at me pointedly. "You're the butler?"
"I am Sebastian Michaelis, the head butler for the Wayne Estate." I smiled pleasantly. "As for 'demon,' I assure you, I am merely efficient. Those men sound delirious. Perhaps they had too much to drink?"
Gordon stepped closer, trying to intimidate me. "One of them had a lead pipe wrapped around his legs like a pretzel. That takes a lot of strength, Mr. Michaelis."
"Adrenaline is a powerful thing, Detective. If criminals fight amongst themselves, who knows what they are capable of?"
I stepped aside, opening the door wider.
"But please, come in. I was just serving breakfast. Young Master Bruce needs stability right now, and seeing a police officer might reassure him that the city is safe. Would you care for coffee? It is a Colombian blend, quite robust."
Gordon hesitated. He wanted to interrogate me, but my offer was too polite to refuse. "Just a quick look around."
We walked into the dining room.
Bruce was sitting at the long table. He looked small in the massive chair. When he saw Gordon, he tensed up.
"It's alright, Young Master," I soothed, pouring coffee into a china cup for the Detective. "Detective Gordon is just checking on us. Because of the noise last night."
Bruce looked at me. I gave him a microscopic nod—a silent command: Play along.
Bruce looked at Gordon. "I... I heard noises. Sebastian told me it was a car backfiring."
Good boy, I thought. He learns fast.
Gordon sighed, taking a sip of the coffee. His eyes widened slightly. It was undoubtedly the best coffee he had ever tasted in his life.
"Look, kid... Bruce," Gordon softened his tone. "I know things are tough. If anyone is bothering you—anyone at all—you call me. Okay?"
"I will," Bruce said quietly.
Gordon turned back to me. "And you. I'll be checking the security tapes."
"I am afraid the cameras have been malfunctioning since the tragedy," I lied smoothly. "I have a technician scheduled for Tuesday."
Gordon stared at me for a long moment. He knew something was off. He knew I was lying about the cameras. But he had no proof, no bodies, and a cup of coffee that tasted like heaven.
"Keep your nose clean, Michaelis," Gordon grunted, putting the cup down. "This city eats people who think they're tough."
"I shall keep that in mind, Detective. Do mind the step on your way out."
I escorted him to the door. As he walked to his car, I saw him pause and look at the rose bushes where I had pruned the branch damaged by the bullet. He frowned, scratched his head, and got into his car.
I closed the door and locked it.
When I turned around, Bruce was standing in the hallway, arms crossed. He wasn't the scared kid from yesterday. He was analyzing me.
"You lied to the police," Bruce said. It wasn't an accusation; it was an observation.
"I managed the situation," I corrected, walking past him to collect the breakfast tray. "The police are a blunt instrument, Young Master. Sometimes, a scalpel is required."
"You beat those men up."
"I escorted them off the property."
Bruce followed me into the kitchen. "Teach me."
I stopped. I turned to look at him. The morning light caught the determination in his eyes. It was the spark. The Batman was waking up.
"Teach you what?" I asked, feigning ignorance.
"To fight like that. To lie like that. To not be afraid." Bruce clenched his small fists. "I don't want to be the victim anymore."
I smirked. My eyes flashed pink for a fraction of a second.
"Very well," I said. "But be warned, Young Master. My training is not for the faint of heart. We start now. Drop the croissant. Give me fifty push-ups."
Bruce didn't hesitate. He dropped to the floor immediately.
I watched him struggle with the first rep.
Yes, I thought. This will be entertaining.
_________________________________________________________________________
🔥 Hey legends! Quick updates! 🔥
💥 Can't wait for the next chapter? Good news—ALL advance chapters are available on Patreon for just $5! No more waiting, just pure binge-reading goodness! 🚀
👉 patreon.com/cyci07
✨ Power Stone Challenge! ✨
If we hit 100 power stones, I'll drop 2 bonus chapters! Let's see if you guys can make me suffer! 😂
💬 Enjoying the story? Leave a review and let me know your favorite moment so far! It helps the novel grow and reach more readers!
Thanks for all your support—you guys are awesome! ❤️