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Gotham City Library â Dining Area.
It was honestly hard to understand why a library would even have a dining area. Who willingly read books on an empty stomach?
Libraries paired with cafĂ©s made sense. Coffee, quiet music, pages turningâthose things naturally went together. But food? Actual meals?
Yet when Dean stepped inside, he had to admit something unexpected.
The environment was⊠good.
The dining area was clean, bright, and orderly. The dĂ©cor leaned toward a fast-food styleâsimple, efficient, almost like a McDonald'sâbut without the noise and chaos. Everything felt deliberately calm.
There weren't many customers, though. In fact, most of the people sitting around wore librarian uniforms. It felt less like a restaurant for visitors and more like a private cafeteria for library staff. Then again, it was well past lunchtime.
A waiter soon arrived, placing a tray on Dean's table.
"Sir, your cheese beef roll combo. Please enjoy."
The combo included two oversized beef rolls, a serving of American fries, and a cup of freshly squeezed lemonade. The rolls were noticeably larger than standard fast-food wraps, and the portion size was generous. The price, surprisingly, was very reasonable.
According to Barbara's claim of "good quality and low price," at least half of that statement was already proven true.
"Thank you," Dean said politely.
But instead of eating right away, he glanced at the red-haired girl seated across from him.
"SoâŠ" Dean raised an eyebrow. "Why did you come along, Miss Gordon?"
He looked genuinely puzzled. "Weren't you supposed to be organizing that entire cart of books?"
Barbara leaned back casually and spread her hands.
"That wasn't actually my job."
She said it matter-of-factly. "Like you said earlier, my position is one level above regular librarians. I manage people, not booksâthough there aren't many people here for me to manage."
She smiled faintly.
"I was pushing the cart earlier because I had nothing better to do. Helping others pass the time."
Then she looked straight at Dean, eyes bright.
"And now that I've met someone far more interesting than dusty shelves, of course I followed you."
"Wow," Dean said with deliberate exaggeration. "I'm honored."
"You should be," Barbara replied seriously. "You have no idea how famous you are."
Dean blinked.
"When I was still in school," she continued, "almost every girl I knew wanted your autograph. Even when I was buried in thesis work and preparing for early graduation, I couldn't escape hearing your name."
Her tone was sincere. The title of 'Gotham's Genius Young Magician' carried real weight.
Especially when paired with Dean's appearance, it made him a nightmare for teenage boys and a dream for teenage girls.
If Gotham University had been that bad, then Dean's high school years had been nothing short of chaos.
He had lost count of how many girls asked him out.
Every Valentine's Day, his locker would overflow with love letters, flowers, and chocolates, to the point where it became an actual problem.
It didn't help that this made most of the boys at school dislike him. In the end, Dick Grayson was one of the few people Dean regularly spent time with.
Only in the past two yearsâafter Dean stopped performing publicly and his fame slowly fadedâdid things finally calm down.
"That 'genius magician' stuff is outdated," Dean said lightly, taking a bite of the beef roll. He chewed, swallowed, then continued. "Just an empty reputation. There are magicians far stronger than me."
He gestured casually.
"Take the Zatara family here in Gotham. Both siblings are top-tier masters. The younger one is even younger than me, right? If you really rank things, he should be Gotham's number-one prodigy."
He paused, then added, "Eating alone is boring. Talking helps."
Barbara seized the opportunity immediately.
"So?" she leaned forward, eyes sparkling. "Now that you've tried itâhow does it taste?"
Dean froze.
He glanced at the roll in his hand, thought for a moment, then answered honestly.
"Uh⊠it's pretty good."
Not bad at all, really. Not mind-blowing, but solid. Maybe a little less satisfying than a well-seasoned braised meat roll, but still enjoyable.
As for whether it was "the best cheese beef roll in all of Gotham"âthat was impossible to judge. Dean hadn't exactly done a city-wide comparison.
"I knew it!" Barbara exclaimed suddenly.
Dean nearly choked.
"You don't understand," she said quickly, lowering her voice. "A few days ago, the kitchen manager decided to change the recipe. She thought tweaking the flavor would attract more customers."
Barbara's expression turned grim.
"It was a disaster."
She glanced over her shoulder toward the counter, then leaned closer.
"You haven't tried the other food here, so you don't feel it yetâbut trust me. This beef roll is the only edible thing in this place. If they really change the recipe, I'll have to order takeout every day."
She sighed.
"But if customers leave feedback saying it's delicious, she might give up on changing it. The problem is⊠hardly anyone orders it anymore."
Barbara looked at Dean with hopeful eyes.
"Luckily, you came today."
Dean stared down at the beef roll on his plate.
For some reason, it suddenly tasted different.
â
Meanwhile.
Diamond District, Gotham City.
This was the area where Gotham's wealthiest residents gatheredâand paradoxically, the safest place in the entire city.
Safer than Old Gotham.
Safer than the district housing GCPD headquarters.
Safer than City Hall itself.
The reason was simple.
This was Penguin's territory.
The domain of the Iceberg Lounge.
Inside a private office within the lounge, a luxurious middle-aged womanâaround forty years oldâwalked in nervously.
Around her neck hung a magnificent necklace.
Diamonds surrounded it, but they were merely decoration. The true centerpiece was a massive oval ruby, nearly the size of a human palm. Its deep red glow was unmistakable.
A priceless treasure.
Behind the desk sat Oswald Cobblepot, calmly observing her with a faint smile.
"Welcome to the Iceberg Lounge, Mrs. Chandler."
"What do you want from me, Oswald?" she asked coldly, forcing herself to stay composed.
"Now, now," Penguin said gently. "There's no need to be rude. I never ordered anyone to kidnap you. I simply asked my people to invite you."
His gaze driftedâvery deliberatelyâto her necklace.
"I must say, you've taken excellent care of yourself. You're over sixty now, yet you look decades younger."
He smiled thinly.
"It seems the legends are true. The Dragon Egg Ruby Necklace really does preserve youth."
Mrs. Chandler's face instantly turned pale.
"Forget it, Oswald," she snapped. "I'd rather die than give it to you."
"You misunderstand me," Penguin replied with mock innocence. "I'm a businessman, not a thief. Why would I steal your most beloved possession?"
He sighed, shaking his head.
"Mrs. Chandler, your necklace is one of Gotham's most famous treasuresâyet it has never been displayed publicly. Most people can only imagine what it looks like."
He leaned forward slightly.
"Isn't that⊠a terrible waste?"
"What are you getting at?" she demanded.
Penguin smiledâkind, polite, and utterly dangerous.
"I simply believe the people of Gotham deserve to see their city's treasure with their own eyes."
He folded his hands.
"So I plan to hold a grand exhibition."
His eyes gleamed.
"And I hope you'll agree to display the Dragon Egg Ruby Necklace."