Young James Gordon had intended to chase after him to argue a few more words, but as he turned, he glimpsed Alfred holding Brucey standing nearby.
Realizing his lapse in decorum, Gordon cleared his throat, tried to compose himself, tidied his somewhat disheveled hair, and strode forward, extending his hand and saying, "Hello, I am James Gordon."
Alfred nodded slightly, extending his hand in return, "Alfred, the Wayne Family's butler."
His gaze flickered between Brucey, trembling in his arms, and the discarded suit jacket not far away.
After comforting Brucey, Alfred walked over to the jacket, bent down to pick it up, carefully dusted off the dirt, and then returned to Gordon, apologizing, "This must be your jacket. I apologize for getting it dirty."
It was December, and a light snow was falling outside. Everyone else present had a jacket, but Gordon was only wearing a thin shirt, revealing the gun holster on the inside.
It was obvious the clothes were his.
Gordon took the jacket and shook his head, "It's fine."
However, he certainly couldn't wear it now; after all, it had already touched the puddles on the ground, and putting it on now would only make him colder.
After a moment of hesitation, Gordon still added in a low voice, "My condolences."
Alfred nodded, looking at Brucey, who was still shaken and standing there at a loss, and said, "I want to take the young lady home first, to let her calm down."
"Please do. For the follow-up investigation, we may still need to speak with the young lady to understand the situation. I will contact you then."
Alfred nodded, and supporting Brucey, who seemed a bit off, returned to the car.
Looking at the distraught Brucey through the rearview mirror, Alfred couldn't help but sigh.
He pulled out his phone from his pocket, and though he felt a pang of reluctance, he dialed Gwen's number.
However, to Alfred's surprise, the call didn't go through… In a safe house located in a secluded corner of Gotham City, Thomas Wayne and Martha Wayne sat at one end of a comfortable living room, while Giovanni and Arcana sat at the other.
For a moment, both sides remained silent, neither intending to speak first.
Finally, Thomas took a deep breath, breaking the silence.
He looked at Giovanni, who was writing something, and asked earnestly, "My dear old friend, so this is why you returned to Gotham?"
Giovanni shrugged helplessly, spreading his hands and saying, "I couldn't help it, my apprentice asked me to do it."
"But that's not the whole reason. Zatanna's studies are also a concern of mine." At this point, Giovanni looked even more helpless, "But after you two 'died,' I had to consider whether I should arrange a transfer for Zatanna."
After all, he was persuaded by Gwen, not only because she was his apprentice, but also because, in Gotham, with the Wayne Family backing, Zatanna would never be at a disadvantage in school.
Now… unless his monstrous apprentice takes over the Wayne Group right now, Giovanni is a bit afraid to stay in Gotham.
And just now, during the period when Martha had not yet woken up, Giovanni did not hide anything, and told Thomas everything, exactly how Gwen had used two dummy models to replace their bodies.
Not only that, he also directly told Thomas that the real reason for this faked death was to deceive an organization called the Court of Owls.
Thomas was completely stunned when he heard this news.
Although he had heard of the Court of Owls, he had always thought it was just an absurd story to scare children, and never imagined that it actually existed and was even related to him.
Nani? Is it really true that the Wayne Family has always resisted the darkness of Gotham?
Isn't that just Grandpa's chuunibyou?!
"Well, this story has now come true, and she had no choice but to resort to this strategy to keep you alive." Giovanni shrugged, then pointed to Arcana beside him, "She is from the Court of Owls."
Arcana immediately retorted, "I don't know anything; this is all just my boss's speculation."
However, Martha found their conversation somewhat baffling.
At this moment, Martha was still in a state of bewilderment.
She had just woken up and, faced with all this suddenness, hadn't yet fully processed it. She could only stare blankly at the people around her, her eyes full of confusion.
Why was Mr. Giovanni sitting with her daughter, seemingly discussing such strange topics with Thomas?
Hadn't she already died? And Thomas had died too, right?
Could this actually be the afterlife? Did Brucey die too?
Ah, did Mr. Giovanni die as well?
Just then, the heavy door of the safe house emitted a "click" as its mechanism turned.
Immediately after, the door slowly pushed inward, and a small figure walked in from outside.
Thomas focused his gaze and couldn't help but frown.
What entered was a Dwarf he had never seen before, small in stature but with a disproportionately large head, an odd ratio. He was wearing the common beggar's clothes seen everywhere in Gotham.
Such clothes would make any thug passing by a corner abandon thoughts of robbery.
And when the Dwarf saw the people in the living room, his mouth slowly curved upward into a grotesque smile, a smile as chilling as that of some carnivorous bird.
Martha instantly became alert, her heart tightening sharply. She subconsciously shielded Arcana behind her, her hands trembling slightly, her eyes full of vigilance.
Arcana was somewhat helpless about this.
It wasn't the first time she'd been mistaken for Brucey; she was used to it.
Thomas also tensed his nerves, his expression serious, staring at the Dwarf, "Who are you?"
"Don't be nervous, Thomas, relax." Seeing this, Giovanni calmly raised his hand, gesturing for the two to relax, and waved his hand gently in the air.
In an instant, an invisible wind swept through the living room, making everyone's hair and clothes rustle.
As the wind gradually subsided, the Dwarf, who had been smirking, underwent an astonishing transformation.
His body began to twist and deform.
In a blink of an eye, the Dwarf transformed into a somewhat disheveled little girl.
The little girl was drenched in sweat, her orange-red hair casually tied into a ponytail, with her bangs plastered to her forehead.
Her clothes were disheveled from moving things, and her face was smudged with dirt from who knows where.
Thomas and Martha looked closely and instantly recognized the little girl. They exclaimed in unison, "Gwen?!"
After Gwen confirmed that her parents were fine, she grinned, revealing a relieved smile, and looked at Thomas, teasing, "Father, didn't I ask you to write a will earlier? Did you have it notarized by a lawyer?"