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Wayne Manor – The Batcave
The Batcycle's engine echoed softly as it rolled down the hidden ramp and entered the Batcave. Its lights cut through the darkness before switching off smoothly. Batgirl dismounted in one clean motion, flipping up her helmet as she walked forward.
At one of the consoles, Alfred Pennyworth stood beside Dick Grayson. The two seemed deep in conversation.
"Hey! Alfred, Elf Boots—looks like I came at just the right time," Barbara Gordon said brightly. "What are you two talking about?"
Alfred turned at once, his expression warm and composed as always.
"Welcome back, Miss Gordon."
Dick glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "Barbara. Still tracking Firefly?"
Barbara shook her head, setting her helmet aside. "Not at the moment. I haven't found a single solid trace. That's what bothers me."
She walked closer, her tone growing more serious.
"Gotham is huge. Someone like Firefly can't be active for days without leaving anything behind. No fires, no sightings, no black-market chatter. That means one thing—someone is hiding him."
Dick frowned. "Who would go out of their way to hide a deranged arsonist?"
"That's the problem," Barbara replied. "There are too many suspects. Crime families, black-market collectors, extremist groups… If I chase all of them, it'll never end."
She paused, then looked directly at Dick.
"So… that's not why I'm here today."
Dick raised an eyebrow. Barbara almost never entered the Batcave without a concrete reason. Between her public identity as the commissioner's daughter and her civilian work, secrecy mattered.
"What did you find?" he asked.
Barbara folded her arms. "I came across an interesting news report earlier."
She explained everything—the upcoming exhibition, the sudden partnership with Gotham's most infamous bird-themed crime boss, and the appearance of the so-called 'Dragon Egg Ruby Necklace.' As she spoke, she added her own deductions, carefully laying out each detail.
Dick's expression darkened.
"Partnering with Penguin for an exhibition? That's ridiculous. Even if Mrs. Chandler were losing her judgment, she wouldn't agree to something like that."
Alfred nodded slightly, saying nothing.
"There's something wrong," Dick continued. "And I don't like it."
Barbara tapped the console lightly. "Penguin is behind this. I'm sure of it. He's using the exhibition as bait—to draw out a certain someone."
She looked at Dick with a knowing smile.
"If I'm right, this is a revenge trap. The necklace isn't the real goal. It's just the lure."
Dick stiffened. His gaze sharpened.
"When did you start paying attention to that phantom thief?" he asked. "Didn't I tell you not to involve yourself in this?"
Barbara met his eyes calmly. "You also told me that if I ever saw him myself, I'd understand what made him so dangerous."
She shrugged. "I'm curious. And honestly? You've already failed to catch him twice. Penguin's going to turn this into a city-wide spectacle. It would be stupid not to prepare."
She added, deliberately,
"If he really goes after the Dragon Egg Ruby Necklace… then yes, I'm stepping in."
Dick's frustration flared instantly.
"How can you decide that on your own? Alfred! Barbara and I already divided responsibilities. That thief is my case!"
He crossed his arms, clearly annoyed.
Barbara blinked, then laughed softly. "Wow. Emotional much? Where's the cool, clever Boy Wonder?"
"Hmph."
Dick turned his head away.
Barbara clicked her tongue and leaned toward Alfred. "Are all teenage boys like this? You must have incredible patience."
Alfred smiled faintly.
"Occasionally, Young Master Richard gives me headaches. But compared to Young Master Bruce at the same age… he is remarkably well-behaved."
Barbara's eyes lit up instantly. "Oh? Now that sounds interesting."
Dick's ear twitched.
Alfred folded his hands behind his back, indulging them.
"When Young Master Bruce was fifteen…"
---
Late Night – Chandler Manor
Chandler Manor stood in stark contrast to Wayne Manor.
While Wayne Manor retained its century-old structure and creaking wood, Chandler Manor had been rebuilt again and again, upgraded with the most advanced materials money could buy. Fireproof walls. Reinforced foundations. Explosion-resistant corridors.
It looked like an old aristocratic home—but functioned like a fortress.
Inside, the décor was understated. No gold statues. No excessive luxury. Yet every single object in the hallways was priceless.
Mrs. Chandler sat alone on the sofa.
Her posture was stiff. Her face looked hollow, exhausted, and worn with grief. Compared to her recent public appearance, she seemed decades older. The necklace she was known for was gone.
An elderly butler stood before her, stooped with age but burning with emotion.
"Madam," he said hoarsely, "what did Oswald do to you that day? Was the necklace taken from you?"
He clenched his hands.
"That man is using you. He doesn't care what that necklace means. He's a criminal. A manipulator. A disgrace to his family name!"
His voice trembled.
"We cannot let him control us."
"Enough!"
Mrs. Chandler suddenly snapped, her voice sharp with pain.
"What good does your anger do?" she demanded. "Once Oswald decides something, it happens. When he came to me… I had no choice."
The old butler lowered his head.
"My apologies, Madam. I spoke out of turn."
She closed her eyes.
"I'm tired. You may leave."
The butler obeyed. The door closed quietly behind him.
He stood there in silence for a long time.
Then—
"Wait."
He turned sharply.
Mrs. Chandler had followed him into the corridor.
"Yes, Madam?" he asked at once.
Her hand rested on his shoulder. Her eyes were firm.
"You were right. We can't let him manipulate us."
She straightened.
"Arrange a car. I'm going to the GCPD. I will ask Commissioner Gordon for help."
The old butler felt a surge of relief. "At once!"
He turned to make preparations—
Then stopped.
Something felt wrong.
Her despair vanished too quickly.
I never heard the door open.
And her face…
It looked younger.
Too young.
A chill ran down his spine. He turned back.
The corridor was empty.
"Madam?"
Panic seized him. He rushed back into the room—
Only to find Mrs. Chandler sitting on the sofa, exactly as before.
She looked up, startled. "What are you doing?"
Before he could answer, her gaze fixed on his shoulder.
"What's that?"
Confused, the old butler tilted his head.
A white card was tucked into his collar.
Hands shaking, he removed it.
Neat writing covered the surface. A playful cartoon emblem sat in the corner.
---
The Third Preview Letter
"If twenty multiplied by three equals four,
Then I shall arrive at a time that does not exist.
When Mars completes its tenth rise and fall,
Guided by the path of the ancient conqueror,
I will claim the blood-stained Dragon Egg."
— Sincerely,
The Phantom Thief
---
The old butler's blood ran cold.
The thief had already been here.