"I know some people may question the authenticity of this recording," Vicki Vale said calmly, her voice steady and confident. "So I respectfully request the Wayne Group to assist in verifying it. With the Wayne Group's technology, confirming whether this recording truly contains Cicero's voice should be very easy. Is that acceptable, Commissioner Gordon?"
Gordon nodded without hesitation.
"Approved."
With his consent, Vicki immediately walked down from the stage, moving toward the first row closest to the auction platform. She stopped in front of Alfred Pennyworth, who was seated neatly in the center.
And beside him—
Dick Grayson.
For a brief moment, Vicki froze.
She clearly remembered that Dick had not been here earlier. In fact, she had specifically asked Alfred about his absence.
Alfred had calmly explained that Young Master Richard had gone to the restroom, possibly because he wasn't used to food outside Wayne Manor and had upset his stomach.
But now Dick was sitting there quietly, looking perfectly normal.
Vicki frowned slightly.
She didn't remember seeing Dick return to his seat at all.
Just a moment ago, she had still assumed he was in the restroom. Yet now, there he was, already seated as if he had never left.
Before she could think too deeply about it, Dick spoke first.
"Then I will accept this on behalf of the Wayne Group, Miss Vale," Dick said politely as he reached out and took the recorder. "If Bruce were here, I'm sure he would gladly accept this commission as well. We'll complete the verification as soon as possible."
With that, the explosive events of the night finally came to an end.
---
The identity of the person who hired Penguin to launder fifty million dollars in illegal assets remained unknown. However, the GCPD would soon begin a full-scale investigation into Ethan International Shipping Company.
Once the hidden accounts were uncovered, the transaction chains could be traced backward.
Still, there was one frustrating problem.
There was no direct evidence pointing to Penguin himself.
Even though the recordings mentioned Penguin multiple times, "Penguin" was merely a codename, not a legal identity. Without solid proof tying him personally to the crime, the trail effectively ended at his subordinates.
And this was what made Penguin truly terrifying.
Everyone in Gotham knew he was the king of the underworld.
Everyone knew countless crimes were connected to him.
Yet whenever investigators got close, the evidence always stopped at his lackeys.
Time and time again, Penguin walked free.
Even Batman often couldn't do much more than beat him into the ground to vent his anger. Sending Penguin to prison was another matter entirely.
But all of that was no longer Vicki Vale's concern.
She had done her part.
What happened next belonged to the police and the courts. Even if she wanted to interfere further, she simply didn't have the authority.
---
Meanwhile…
On the rooftop of the Gotham International Hotel.
A white-gray figure silently emerged from a ventilation opening near the edge of the roof.
It was Dean, still dressed in his Kaito Kid costume.
After using tear gas to block Robin's pursuit, Dean had sprinted up to the twentieth floor, swiped an elevator card he had taken from Cicero, activated the private elevator leading directly to the presidential suite, and escaped through the ventilation ducts.
This very duct had once been used by Dean to secretly eavesdrop on Ogilvy and Cicero's conversation.
For security and privacy reasons, the entire system of the presidential suite—including its elevator—was completely independent, with no surveillance cameras installed.
It was the perfect escape route.
Dean brushed the dust off his clothes and took out his grappling hook gun.
With a sharp click, he fired the hook.
The rope shot out, latched firmly onto the rooftop structure, and the other end fell straight down toward the empty ground below.
Dean grabbed the rope and began to slide down.
Because he had left his cape behind in the hotel during his dramatic disappearance in front of Robin, he couldn't use a delta-wing glide to escape. Lacking any backup equipment, he had no choice but to use this old-fashioned method.
At that very moment—
On a tall building several hundred meters away, directly opposite the hotel.
Three figures were hidden in the darkness.
Two of them were snipers, their rifles already fully assembled.
The third was Ignatius Ogilvy, currently Penguin's most trusted adviser.
"Kaito Kid is about to enter the sniper blind zone," one of the snipers said anxiously, keeping Dean centered in his scope. "Aren't we going to make a move, Ogilvy?"
"Relax," Ogilvy replied lazily. He lit a cigarette and took a slow drag. "I've already asked the boss. Kaito Kid will die by our hands—but not yet. Now isn't the right time."
The sniper frowned.
"What exactly did the boss say? If Kaito Kid escapes, who's going to take responsibility? I'm not interested in becoming the boss's punching bag."
His dissatisfaction was obvious.
Ogilvy's eyes flickered with a sharp, cold light.
He walked up to the sniper, smiled faintly, and said, "If you're so eager to kill Kaito Kid, then go ahead. But only shoot if you're absolutely sure it's a one-shot kill. If you're not confident—don't pull the trigger. Understood?"
"No problem," the sniper said confidently.
He turned back to the scope and adjusted his aim, aligning it slightly above Kaito Kid's head.
And then—
Pain exploded in his throat.
Pshh!
Blood sprayed violently.
The sniper dropped his rifle, clutching his neck as warm blood poured through his fingers. His eyes widened in disbelief as he turned toward Ogilvy.
"You… you…"
Ogilvy looked down at him calmly.
He slowly raised his right hand.
It was gloved in black.
Between his fingers was a blood-stained playing card.
"I told you to wait," Ogilvy said casually. "This is my first time killing someone with a playing card. I wasn't very confident at first. Luckily, I succeeded on the first try—otherwise I'd be quite annoyed."
"Ugh… ugh—"
The sniper's eyes bulged as he reached out desperately.
Ogilvy kicked him away with ease.
The playing card had cleanly severed the carotid artery. Blood gushed uncontrollably, and within seconds, the sniper collapsed—dead, eyes still wide open.
"What now, boss?" the second sniper asked calmly, as if nothing unusual had happened. He disassembled his rifle and packed it away. "Stay here a bit longer, or head back immediately?"
There was no panic in his voice.
No fear.
He even addressed Ogilvy as "boss," proving he was a loyal subordinate personally trained by Ogilvy himself.
"What are we staying here for?" Ogilvy scoffed. "To catch a cold?"
He bent down and picked up the dead sniper's weapon.
After that, the two of them dragged a large storage box from the corner. They placed the corpse, the sniper rifle, and the blood-stained playing card inside, sealing it shut.
Then they changed into moving company uniforms and casually carried the box away.
"Boss," the subordinate asked as they walked, "you killed this idiot. How are we going to explain this to Penguin?"
Ogilvy stopped and raised an eyebrow.
"What did you say?" he snapped. "Who did I kill?"
The subordinate paused.
Ogilvy smiled coldly.
"He was killed by Kaito Kid."
The subordinate immediately understood.
"Kaito Kid…" he said thoughtfully. "That explains the playing card. I get it now, boss. Kaito Kid killed our comrade."
Ogilvy's smile widened slightly.
And somewhere far below, the real Kaito Kid vanished into the night, completely unaware that someone else had already taken the fall for him.
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