Wayne Manor.
Alfred scrutinized his troublesome young master, Bruce Wayne.
"Look, I should be fine wearing this, right?" Bruce adjusted his tie as he came down the stairs.
"Where are your cufflinks?"
Alfred frowned. Like the most exacting, demanding judge in the world, he let no detail escape his notice.
"Uh..." Bruce glanced at his bare cuffs. Alfred hurried forward and fastened the two buttons bearing the Wayne Family crest from his own cuffs onto Bruce's.
"You represent the Wayne Family. Otherwise, they'll say you have no manners." Alfred adjusted his collar, stepped back two paces, and looked him over.
"You may go now. Don't keep Miss Talia waiting; that would not be gentlemanly. A car has been prepared outside for you—a gray Ferrari. It suits your temperament. Very understated."
"What an annoying occasion."
Bruce shook his head helplessly. His time should not have been wasted here, but he had to attend tonight's charity gala.
"Safe travels, Master Bruce."
Alfred watched Bruce get into the Ferrari. Amid the rumble of its engine, the car gradually disappeared from the estate.
A night breeze swept past, and the empty Wayne Manor seemed somewhat lonely and desolate beneath the lights of its great hall.
Alfred swept his gaze around the room, then turned and walked back into the hall. Looking at an oil painting on the staircase wall, covered by a white cloth to keep off the dust, he stepped over and pulled the cloth down.
Behind the slowly falling cloth was a masterfully painted portrait. Young Bruce sat between Thomas and his wife, smiling happily.
"Master Thomas..." Alfred looked up at the painting, memories of the past surfacing before his eyes.
When people grew old, they always found themselves thinking back on every little moment from the past.
A clacking set of