Bright moonlight. After a short but intense chase, Victor quickly confirmed that these elite "lily knights" were far inferior to the Order of the Flaming Rose reinforcements Siegfried had brought last time. Even their crossbows weren't used—because they were trying to take him alive.
But as time passed, the space he could move through shrank rapidly anyway. Princess Adda, commanding the hunt, didn't blindly charge after him. The moment she noticed the man in black was trying to use the alleys to shake pursuit, she calmly directed a few knights to split up and cut him off from multiple routes. In the end, under pressure from all sides, Victor was forced out of the Trade Quarter's center, and then heavy armor closed in layer by layer, trapping "Batman" atop the city's towering wall.
The knights didn't keep advancing. The princess had said she wanted him alive, and they were afraid that if they pressed too hard, this costumed man—standing on the battlements with arms folded and his cape snapping in the wind—might fall.
The silent standoff didn't last long. The heavily armored knights parted, and the tall figure in a white gown stepped forward.
This was the second time Victor had seen this noble girl with the less-than-stellar reputation—Adda the White.
In the torchlight, her skin looked pale and translucent, making her full lips appear even more vividly red. She narrowed her long almond-shaped eyes at him and gently bit her lower lip.
"Your name, man in black. The Crown Princess of Temeria is asking you a question."
Victor bowed with a perfectly elegant noble's salute.
"I am… Batman."
"An interesting name. An interesting outfit. So tell me, Batman—why are you running? Have you committed some crime?"
"Esteemed lady, I'm running because you're chasing."
Adda let a faintly smug smile bloom. "You run well. But my knights still caught you."
"Yes, they caught me—thanks to your excellent command. As expected of Her Highness, the Crown Princess."
The flattery landed just right, and Adda looked thoroughly pleased.
She lifted her right hand like a comb, smoothing hair the night wind had tousled, her tone composed and confident. "Surrender, Batman. If it's only that you bumped into the guard and disrupted the streets, you'll be fine. In the name of the Crown Princess of Temeria, I order you to surrender. Even if you've committed other offenses, I promise I'll have Mayor Velerad deal with you lightly."
Then she saw the mouth beneath his mask curl upward.
"Oh, esteemed lady—your nobility leaves me nowhere to hide. Your generosity makes me ashamed. Not accepting your pardon would be foolish beyond measure."
Adda smiled with satisfaction. It seemed she'd acquired another amusing toy. She was about to wave her men forward to bind him—
When the costumed man continued, without warning, "But I refuse!"
His tone was crisp, final, and beyond argument.
"The thing I, Batman, enjoy most… is telling people who think they hold every advantage—no."
The reversal hit too abruptly, and the words cut too sharply. Aside from Adda herself, the knights froze on the spot.
White skirts fluttering, the princess tilted her chin slightly, her smile turning even sweeter.
"Hehehe… how interesting. I really want to know now—how hard are your bones? How long can you keep telling me 'no'?"
Under the black mask, the only visible mouth pulled into a scornful smile.
"If you want that answer… you'll have to catch me first."
With that, the boy suddenly raised his right hand into a fist, instantly drawing every eye. The knights snapped into combat readiness. One knight stepped in front of the princess with a heavy thud.
"Honored nobles! Noble knights!"
His voice boomed like distant thunder—an effect of a voice-modulating potion.
"Consider yourselves blessed! You are standing here today to witness the legendary Batman's escape show!"
The next second, Adda barked sharply, "Seize him!"
And everyone watched—wide-eyed—as he stood on the battlements, spread his arms like a cross, leaned backward, and simply fell, dropping off the city wall toward the outside.
Shoving the knight aside, tossing her riding crop away, the princess rushed to the edge to look down. Then she—and the assembled nobles and knights—witnessed it together:
Batman's cape flared open.
And with a posture so graceful it felt unreal, he glided through the night sky, soaring toward the depths of the forest beyond the walls.
"Ladies and gentlemen—remember this day forever! You almost caught the one and only Batman! Hahahahahaha!"
His wild laughter echoed through the night.
That was the curtain-call performance of the first time that man ever stepped onto the stage.
Adda ran her tongue across her upper lip. The night wind whipped her red hair around her face, and her voice turned icy.
"Listen carefully. Find this Batman. I want him alive. Whoever brings him to me—whole and intact—will receive my reward."
When she gave the order, her eyes fixed on the forest's depths, bright—glittering—bright enough to be frightening.
…
Victor landed safely, gliding into the forest. He changed quickly, then jumped into the moat and slipped back into the sewers, returning to Vizima once more.
Nearly two months had passed, and it was dark down there—but he moved with practiced ease. Back when Salamandra thugs had led him through this route, he'd assumed people couldn't be trusted. He memorized every turn, every corner, every branch, then drew a map the very next day.
As long as he lived in Vizima, this route would always be valuable. For that, he felt genuinely grateful to the one who'd guided him back then—Red Dog. He couldn't help wondering how the man was doing these days.
When Victor climbed out of the sewer, his mood was as light and steady as his footsteps. After all, as long as he never pulled out the outfit, no one would ever find Batman. And when he thought back to the chaos he'd caused tonight, an urge to laugh wildly rose in his chest.
Turns out you never truly know who you are until you run into certain situations. Put on a mask—and you can finally see parts of the truth you usually keep hidden.
…
He returned to the alchemy room in silence. Angoulême, who'd been dozing in the lounge chair, snapped awake instantly. She sprang up, folded her arms, and glared at Victor with big round brown eyes—fierce and furious.
She'd already taken off the Catwoman suit. It was rolled into a heap beside the cauldron. Victor didn't even need her to speak; he knew exactly what she meant.
Tonight was too much.
Catwoman was retiring.
That decision was, of course, a tragedy. Compared to Victor's dramatic performance sprinting through the city, the bat suit had fully showcased an ancient ancestor's sense of aesthetics—provocative, attention-grabbing, and impossible to ignore. Angoulême's Catwoman, on the other hand, had relied on instinct to avoid attention, and with so few witnesses, she'd probably be forgotten quickly.
Only the unfortunate drunk who'd taken that kick would remember her forever.
Catwoman's heroic career didn't even have time to properly begin before it ended—an undeniable loss for the world.
But no matter how regretful he felt, a member's opinion couldn't always be ignored.
"I know what you mean. From now on—no more Catwoman, okay?" The captain said the words with aching reluctance.
Angoulême still didn't speak. She didn't want to talk to Victor today. But after getting the outcome she wanted, she walked up and gave him a light hug—celebrating that they were both safe—then went upstairs to find Catherine, complain, and sleep.
Watching the girl go, Victor mourned the passing of a superhero… and tossed the Catwoman suit into the cauldron.
He looked around the walls and felt a tooled leather panel would make a good decoration. Thinking back to paintings he'd seen, the one in the banker's home—The King's Glory—seemed like a good choice. It captured Raffard the White at his most glorious moment, with clean lines and real force.
"Alright… that one."
Decision made, Victor began composing the design in his mind—and started stirring again.
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