"Ugh—cough, cough—!"
As expected, Dick Grayson finally paid the price for his reckless eating.
Having shoved several mouthfuls of food into his mouth at once, he immediately began choking, his face turning slightly red as he struggled to breathe.
Alfred, who had been standing nearby the entire time, reacted instantly. Without panic or hesitation, he picked up a glass of water and handed it to him.
"Slowly, Master Richard."
Dick grabbed the glass and gulped down several large mouthfuls. After a few seconds, the discomfort eased, and his breathing returned to normal.
"Whew… thanks, Alfred," Dick said, wiping his mouth. "Okay, I'm full now."
With that crisis over, he reached out to pick up the white notice box again, his expression returning to its earlier seriousness.
Alfred watched him quietly for a moment before speaking.
"It has been quite some time since I've seen you this absorbed in a case," Alfred said calmly. "Is this Kaito Kid truly so troublesome?"
"Troublesome?" Dick repeated, thinking carefully.
After a moment, he shook his head.
"It's hard to say," he admitted. "He doesn't have the raw strength of Killer Croc. He doesn't have Two-Face's warped obsession with duality. He doesn't have the Joker's madness, or even the brutality of an ordinary serial killer."
Dick leaned back slightly.
"And when it comes to intelligence, I don't think he surpasses the Riddler either."
He paused, recalling their first encounter.
"But something about him feels… different," Dick said slowly. "His attitude. His methods. The way he moves. He doesn't act like a criminal who enjoys chaos or power."
His gaze sharpened.
"Instead of obsessing over how to defeat him, I want to understand why he does what he does. If possible, I want to persuade him to stop."
Alfred raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Much like what Master Bruce attempted with Miss Selina Kyle?"
Dick froze for half a second, then spread his hands.
"Well… there's a difference," he said lightly. "For one thing, Selina is an undeniable beauty. Bruce was very lucky."
He hesitated, then added jokingly:
"I just hope Kaito Kid is… at least reasonable."
Alfred allowed himself a faint smile, but his tone remained serious.
"Are you certain you are not underestimating him, Master Richard?"
He folded his hands behind his back.
"As you yourself said, Kaito Kid lacks the obvious strengths of other super-criminals. Catwoman was similar in that regard, yet Batman's pursuit of her became a long and exhausting struggle."
Alfred continued calmly:
"Perhaps involving another person would allow you to apprehend him more efficiently—and persuade him sooner."
The suggestion was reasonable.
But Dick rejected it without hesitation.
"I can handle this alone, Alfred."
He spoke firmly.
"When I was busy with Teen Titans matters and had to leave Gotham, Bruce managed just fine on his own. If he can protect Gotham alone, then so can I."
He shook his head.
"And Bruce is currently tied up with Justice League affairs. Who could help me?"
Dick listed the options quickly.
"Barbara? She's only been Batgirl for less than half a year. She doesn't have enough field experience yet."
At that moment, Alfred calmly pointed to himself.
"Master Richard," he said, "I am not so old that I cannot still move."
Dick blinked.
Alfred continued, unfazed.
"The auction at Gotham International Hotel begins guest admission at four in the afternoon. The event itself officially starts at nine in the evening and lasts until approximately twelve-thirty in the morning."
He looked directly at Dick.
"That is a very long period of time. Surely you don't plan to wear your Robin uniform the entire time—or remain lurking outside the building."
Dick fell silent.
His first encounter with Kaito Kid had already taught him a painful lesson. Waiting outside the scene, reacting passively, had put him at a disadvantage.
Alfred's words struck the mark.
"Are you suggesting…" Dick said slowly, "…that we attend the auction directly?"
"Yes," Alfred replied calmly. "In the name of the Wayne Family."
Dick frowned slightly.
"But—"
"You are still a minor," Alfred interrupted gently. "Naturally, I will accompany you as your guardian and butler."
He added:
"Besides, even without Kaito Kid's involvement, I believe it would benefit you to participate in more social gatherings."
Dick sighed.
"Thank you for the suggestion, Alfred," he said sincerely. "Let's attend the auction together."
Then he added helplessly:
"But as for social gatherings in general… please excuse me. Dealing with the Teen Titans already gives me enough headaches."
Alfred chuckled softly.
The plan was set.
---
Everyone Prepares
Robin had a plan.
The GCPD had mobilized its forces.
Penguin had laid his traps.
And yet, the one who had sparked all of this—Kaito Kid himself—was far from idle.
In the days leading up to the auction, Dean maintained a strict routine.
He either refined his techniques in isolation or went out to scout locations, study routes, and gather intelligence.
He also occasionally tested Dick, probing for information—careful, indirect questions meant to determine whether his original plan required adjustment.
Unfortunately, Dick Grayson was no Inspector Nakamori.
Extracting useful intelligence from him proved extremely difficult.
Dean gained little concrete information.
However, one detail stood out.
Dick Grayson would attend the auction—together with Alfred Pennyworth, as representatives of Wayne Enterprises.
That alone was valuable intelligence.
Dean noted it carefully.
Time passed quickly.
Soon, the day of the auction arrived.
---
The Day of the Auction
Before the operation, Dean made a deliberate decision.
He slept.
Deeply.
He did not wake until after five in the afternoon.
A thief who worked at night needed a clear mind and steady nerves. Exhaustion was the enemy.
After waking, Dean carefully equipped himself with all the tools he had prepared in advance.
Then, calmly and without urgency, he headed toward Gotham International Hotel.
At that moment, guest admission had already been open for over an hour.
But Dean was in no hurry.
Based on his observations over the past week, the most critical moment was still more than an hour away.
---
Inside Gotham International Hotel
The hotel was already operating at maximum capacity.
On the first floor, the main kitchen was a battlefield.
Chefs and assistants moved like clockwork, every action precise, every order executed without hesitation.
The auction would last for hours.
It was impossible for the guests—Gotham's most powerful elites—to go hungry.
As a result, the hotel was responsible for providing uninterrupted catering throughout the entire event.
And all the pressure fell squarely on the kitchen staff.
A single mistake—one dissatisfied guest—could spell disaster for whoever was responsible.
The kitchen had entered full operation mode long before admission even began.
Fresh ingredients were continuously prepared and sent out, regardless of whether they would actually be eaten.
Waste was inevitable.
"Tom! Are you blind?!"
A veteran kitchen worker preparing seafood sashimi pointed angrily at an overflowing trash can.
"It's full again! Take it out—now!"
"Y-yes! I'm going!"
Tom, a young intern who had only been working there for less than two months, hurried over.
He picked up the trash can with visible strain.
The workload today was at least ten times heavier than usual.
Tom carried the can through the back kitchen door, pinching his nose as the smell assaulted him.
He dumped the contents into the large dumpster behind the hotel.
This was not the first time.
Nor the tenth.
He had already done this more than twenty times today.
Seafood offal. Poultry bones. Fruit peels. Spoiled scraps.
The stench made his stomach churn.
In fact, he had already thrown up once earlier.
And this was only part of his job.
Floor cleaning. Fetching supplies. Miscellaneous errands.
"I really need a break…"
Tom staggered to the side, leaning against the wall.
Here, the smell was weaker.
More importantly, he was just outside the surveillance range of the camera above the back door.
He closed his eyes briefly.
"You certainly do."
A calm, unfamiliar voice suddenly spoke from behind him.
Tom's heart skipped a beat.
He turned around instinctively—
And froze.
Because there was someone standing where no one should have been.
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