The Batcave Restaurant was not truly a high-end restaurant. It had no Michelin rating, and its scores on various websites and food critic columns could only be called mediocre. Yet it was so popular precisely because it was more accessible to ordinary people.
There was no cumbersome, detailed reservation process. The phone number for reservations and inquiries was written right at the entrance. No introduction from anyone was required, nor did people have to wait half a year to taste a dish. They did not even need to dress formally; they could walk straight in wearing beach shoes or slippers after a day at the beach.
This made the visitors' style naturally blend with the restaurant's own atmosphere. At the very least, there was no absurd sight of Wall Street elites in suits dining inside a cave full of natural scenery.
Its child- and senior-friendly policies gave the restaurant a particularly warm atmosphere. Families often gathered around stone or wooden tables, admiring the view while chatting and laughing.
Alfred had handled the children's clothes. To avoid making them overly formal, he had chosen outfits for the boys with more of a British country style.
The younger boys, such as Jason, Tim, and little Barry, who had come with Victor, all wore shirts, suspender shorts, and round-toed leather shoes. Jason wore a light camel plaid shirt, Tim wore a dark brown polka-dot shirt, and Barry wore a coffee-colored fine cashmere sweater. From afar, their color palette looked remarkably coordinated, as though they had been transported to the Welsh countryside in an instant.
Dick was already in high school. He had long completed his transition from child to teenager and had begun dressing like an adult in shirts and suit trousers for many important occasions. This time, however, he wore a very