--------------------------------------------
Visit our Patreon for more:
Get membership in patreon to read more chapters
Extra chapters available in patreon
patreon.com/Dragonscribe31♥️💥❤️🔥
----------------------------------------------------- .
When Dick and Alfred stepped out of the elevator on the eighteenth floor, the difference was immediately obvious.
The police presence here was several times heavier than at the hotel entrance.
At every junction in the corridor, at least three armed officers stood guard. In key passages, that number rose to five. Patrol units—two officers per team—moved through the hallways in perfect rhythm. There were ten such teams, rotating once every five minutes.
The security was tight. Professional. Armed.
Anyone trying to force their way through would be spotted within seconds.
Yet the moment Dick and Alfred passed through the final checkpoint and entered the auction hall itself, the atmosphere changed dramatically.
The tension… vanished.
---
The Auction Hall
The venue was divided into two clearly separated sections.
The front area functioned as an entertainment space—part luxury restaurant, part ballroom, part social lounge. Hundreds of guests sat at neatly arranged tables, enjoying delicacies prepared from the rarest and most expensive ingredients money could buy.
Adjacent to the restaurant was a vast open floor resembling a grand ballroom. Aristocratic men and women danced in elegant pairs, moving to soft, classical music beneath crystal chandeliers.
Scattered throughout the hall were reporters, cameras constantly flashing as they photographed celebrities, wealthy tycoons, and political figures.
Beyond the restaurant and ballroom stood a massive red curtain—deep, vibrant, and impossible to ignore. Through the narrow gaps between its folds, rows of tiered seating could be faintly seen.
That was the auction floor.
All of tonight's items—including the legendary Pink Dream, the world's largest pink diamond—were currently secured in a guarded storage area behind that curtain.
Despite the crowd, Dick noticed something strange.
There were no visible GCPD officers inside the hall.
Either Commissioner Gordon had chosen not to deploy uniformed officers here—or those officers were hidden among the guests, dressed in plain clothes.
For Gotham's true elite, the auction itself was almost secondary.
More than half of the items being sold had been provided by the very people attending. One family traded with another, then with a third, only for the item to circle back again later.
Money changed hands, but influence changed ownership.
For them, the auction was less about buying rare items and more about maintaining connections, exchanging favors, and conducting transactions that would never appear on paper.
Of course, there were also those who simply had too much money and found ordinary shopping dull. They came for the thrill—the excitement of bidding absurd sums just because they could.
Kaito Kid's Notice letter had caused a storm outside these walls.
Inside?
No one cared.
The guests ate, drank, laughed, and danced as if nothing unusual were happening. Not a single conversation Dick overheard mentioned Kaito Kid at all.
It was as if the thief didn't exist.
Looking at these arrogant, indulgent members of Gotham's so-called upper class, Dick felt a tight, uncomfortable irritation settle in his chest.
Alfred noticed immediately.
He smiled faintly and spoke in a low, calm voice.
"Do not trouble yourself with their thoughts or attitudes," Alfred said. "You cannot change them—and they have no desire to change."
He continued evenly, "Master Bruce dislikes these people even more than you do. However, it is precisely this detestable ruling class that controls most of the city's resources."
Alfred's eyes swept the room.
"That is why Master Bruce puts on a mask every day and mingles among them. He searches for opportunities—ways to redirect their power, however slightly, toward improving this city."
He then changed the subject smoothly.
"I see Romanian cabbage rolls and Italian cream mushroom sauce on several tables," Alfred added. "It is already dinner time. Let us eat first."
Dick sighed quietly.
"…Alright."
They walked together toward the restaurant area and selected a discreet corner table.
---
An Unexpected Encounter
Not long after they sat down, a young waiter approached with a polite smile, carrying a menu and two empty plates.
"What may I get for you this evening?" he asked.
The menu listed only the names of dishes—no prices.
Not because the prices were low, but because everything was complimentary.
The hotel itself was not hosting the auction. It had merely rented out the floor, already earning an enormous sum—along with countless unseen benefits. Charging guests for food would have been laughably unnecessary.
Alfred handled the ordering while Dick remained silent.
"One Cannes seafood caviar platter," Alfred said calmly.
"Two Romanian cabbage rolls.
One Norwegian smoked salmon.
One Burgundy herb-baked escargot.
One bluefin tuna sashimi.
And one cream corn chowder."
The waiter scribbled quickly.
"That will be all, sir?" he asked.
"Yes."
The waiter nodded and turned—
"Oh!"
At that exact moment, a woman with long, wavy blonde hair walked past.
They collided.
The woman stumbled backward, losing her balance.
Before she could fall, Alfred reacted instantly, extending a steady hand and supporting her.
The waiter himself remained standing, but the empty plate he was carrying flew from his grasp and clattered upside down onto the floor.
The waiter barely noticed.
He rushed forward, panic written all over his face.
"I—I'm so sorry!" he said hurriedly. "I didn't see you behind me! I really didn't mean to—!"
He looked terrified.
Anyone attending this auction was someone he couldn't afford to offend.
If the guest became angry, his job—and possibly his future in Gotham—would be over.
"It's alright," the woman said gently.
She straightened her clothes and smiled warmly.
"I'm fine. I should apologize as well—I was walking too fast."
The waiter froze.
"You… you're not blaming me?" he asked, disbelief clear in his voice.
"There's nothing to blame," she replied calmly. "The restaurant is crowded. You must already be under a lot of pressure."
The relief on the waiter's face was immediate and overwhelming.
"Th-thank you!" he said, bowing repeatedly before hurrying away.
---
Vicky Vale
At that moment, Alfred studied the woman more closely.
"Excuse me," he said politely. "You are Miss Vicky Vale, are you not?"
Hearing her name, the blonde woman turned toward him, her expression shifting from polite courtesy to mild surprise.
She looked at Alfred carefully.
"…Alfred?" she asked.
Recognition dawned in her eyes.
---
End of Chapter 19