Hathaway

"All right, all right. I only threw you from over a hundred meters up and gave you a kick on the way down. Weren't you completely fine? Why are you still holding a grudge? Scratching people isn't something a good kitty does."

Lynn still sat atop the giant balloon hugging the Nimbus Cloud, with a kitty in his arms that was brimming with indignation and constantly wanted to scratch him.

With the matter settled, Lynn did not linger. After ransacking old Falcone's home, he left with the kitty before dawn broke.

With Falcone dead, Gotham would surely be in chaos for a while. But that was not something Lynn needed to consider. When had Gotham ever not been chaotic?

The one who truly needed to worry was Batman. He was the one who genuinely treated Gotham as his home.

As for Lynn, he was more like someone hiding here for refuge. Though he had not exactly been free to choose the location of this shelter, it fortunately had plenty of potential for growth. It suited him well enough.

After returning home, Lynn checked the Soul Fragments he had newly collected. After asking the system, he learned that blue equipment was currently the upper limit of what he could draw from the prize pool. That was why there had been so much junk "polluting the prize pool" during his draws. Even a damn iron skewer could be passed off as white-tier broken equipment.

White, green, blue, purple, gold, red, black—those were the system prize pool's equipment grades. Skills, single-use items, and the like had another separate classification system, something Lynn could not access yet.

It was clearly unreliable to keep hoping basic equipment could pull off something world-shaking.

Even in online games, that sort of gimmick had been abandoned years ago.

If he wanted to truly gain a foothold in this world, high-tier equipment was indispensable.

So Lynn decisively made a temporarily painful choice. He would collect more Soul Fragments without drawing anything for now, and upgrade the system prize pool first.

But that left Lynn with quite a large funding gap.

He first had to gather enough for a ten-pull upgrade, then collect enough for another ten-pull. And based on Lynn's past gaming experience, the system might require even more Soul Fragments for draws after the upgrade.

At that thought, Lynn felt as though someone had looped a rope around his neck. The pressure was absolutely maxed out.

So there would definitely be no idle time. Continuing to guide people toward virtue was the real business.

Thus, after only a few days of rest, Lynn prepared to head out again.

But as Lynn waited for the night to deepen so he could go out and bring warmth to people, something temporarily held him back.

He had a guest at home.

Light footsteps. Specially treated nails scraped across the glass, easily cutting out an intact piece. A hand reached through the opening to unlock the window, then the figure flipped inside and closed it behind her. Not a sound was made throughout the entire process.

She moved along the wall through the shadows. A graceful silhouette could faintly be seen passing by. For some reason, despite being surrounded by lightless darkness, the visitor remained agile and nimble, as though the darkness had no effect on her at all.

Upon reaching the bottom of the spiraling staircase, she lifted a foot onto the first step. After pausing briefly, she withdrew it.

After feeling around behind her for a moment, she placed something on the step. The visitor glanced toward the top of the stairs, confirmed that she had not been discovered, and backed away into the shadows.

Clang!

The sound of something heavy hitting the floor rang out exceptionally clear and loud in the dead of night.

The visitor jumped in fright, immediately dropping onto all fours with her back arched.

But after that sharp noise, there was no further sound, as if she were the only creature in the house capable of hearing.

After remaining on guard for several seconds, the visitor finally relaxed her defensive posture. Only then did she have time to turn around and look at what she had bumped into.

"I was clearly walking through the middle of the hall. How could there possibly be a—"

"An iron pot?!"

As hard as it was to believe, she had indeed bumped into a huge iron pot.

A huge iron pot sitting in the middle of the first-floor hall.

"God! What kind of person decorates a first-floor reception hall like this?!"

"Ma'am, please don't—"

"Who's there?!"

The shadow hanging from the windowsill flowed like water, gradually separating into a dark outline.

"Meow~"

It turned out to be an entirely black kitty.

"Was... that you talking?"

The visitor found it hard to believe that such a tiny cat could have such a deep voice.

"Of course not."

The kitty said, "He was the one talking."

Scratch!

A spark flared in the darkness beneath the windowsill.

In the flickering glow, someone lay in the angle between the wall and floor beneath the window, propping up his head with one hand.

"Ma'am, you almost stepped on me just now."

Lynn calmly rubbed his eyes and tossed a match toward where he remembered the pot was.

There was firewood there. His house had no electricity, so he normally relied on fire for warmth and lighting.

Awkwardly, the fire did not catch after Lynn tossed over the match.

"Ahahahahaha!"

The kitty could not hold it in anymore. Clutching her stomach, she rolled around on the floor with laughter.

Lynn looked rather embarrassed as well. His entrance had not gone quite as smoothly as planned.

Ruined in an instant.

He calmly walked forward. As the guest kept backing away, Lynn stopped where she had been standing and obediently used a match to light the firewood.

Then he sat directly on the floor. It was a little cold, so he grabbed a flatter piece of wood to sit on. Lynn then scooped up the kitty and tossed her away in retaliation before calmly spreading his hands.

"So, Catwoman? Belinda? Roxy? Halle Berry? Hathaway?

"Whichever name you prefer, anyway...

"You're not here to collect the bounty on me, are you?"

Lynn's tone was exceedingly casual. After speaking, he even began poking at the fire and puffing out his cheeks to blow on it.

But this mysterious guest, Catwoman herself, was naturally extremely shocked.

Catwoman was her operational codename. Belinda was a name she had once used. Roxy was her alias. No second person should have known those things. Not even Batman knew!

How did he know?!

As for Halle Berry and Hathaway, Catwoman had no idea who they were. But at least one thing was certain now: this rapidly rising madman of legend knew her very well, and he was not as insane and unfathomable as Batman had described.

Of course, hiding beneath a windowsill to scare someone, along with that self-directed entrance performance just now... was definitely somewhat abnormal.

"Did he tell you those things about me?"

Catwoman had always been bold as a thief. She reached out and held the black cat, who had run back looking as though she wanted revenge. Catwoman found herself a piece of wood as well and sat on the other side of the fire.

"Who is Hathaway? Someone else dressed like me?"

"Heh, who is Hathaway..."

Lynn shook his head meaningfully. Looking at her black bodysuit and the pale skin visible beneath her mask, he said softly, "Hathaway is you."

Great! Not Halle Berry!

After silently reciting your friend's wife is off-limits eight hundred times, Lynn finally suppressed his excitement. He turned toward the staircase and pointed in that direction with a burning stick. "What's that? Don't tell me it's some kind of letter. I may be single, but I... handle my own needs. Better make things clear..."

"That is a distress letter."

As though she had not heard Lynn's nonsense, Catwoman calmly met his eyes. "Batman's distress letter."

"Oh?"

Lynn instantly became serious and sat upright. "I see."

"Uh... Mr. Lynn."

"Mm?"

"Your pants are on fire."