The banquet was not particularly large, nor was there a dance. In a restaurant that looked retro, even somewhat old-fashioned, chairs lined both sides of a long table. Deep-red table runners and elaborately carved candleholders gave it an old-school style. People in black suits and white gloves pulled open the doors, and the guests took their seats one after another.
It was not yet time for the banquet to begin, so not all the guests had arrived. Bruce was considered early. He took Jason and Tim to their seats, both children sitting to his right, with Tim closer to him.
Bruce sat on the left side of the table, facing the room's entrance and quite close to the head seat, displaying his importance.
The other guests who entered one after another showed no surprise at the sight of the two children beside him. This was a common social tactic among the upper class: if one could not squeeze into a banquet, one found a way to get one's children in.
They would only speculate about the children's families, wondering which lucky person had managed to forge a connection with the Wayne Family. But Bruce, sitting there, was nowhere near as calm as he appeared.
When people waited for lottery results, they felt a peculiar emotion. They did not want that moment to come, yet also wanted it to arrive sooner.
Bruce did not know which Schiller he would draw. He only hoped it would not be the one he least wanted to see.
But before that, he heard another piece of bad news. Clark Kent, the intern reporter from Metropolis who was supposed to arrive with Mayor Roy, could not make it because of some personal matter.
Jason, seated beside him, gently shook his head and whispered to Tim, "You