Business Competition Has Always Been Like This!

Roland shook out his slightly numb hand, shock in his eyes. He had only gained martial arts techniques; his physical strength hadn't changed. Wasn't breaking a tree with one punch a bit much?

Then he remembered how Priest Mapo's use of the move against Emiya had been described: its destructive force was almost like a grenade exploding against the chest, and one elbow strike could leave a huge crater in a wall. All he had done was break a tree with his fist. By comparison, he was still a long way off.

Still, he could now take down an ordinary person with one punch. He no longer had to worry about common thugs coming after him.

Back at the Church, Roland had his underlings prepare the souvenirs they would sell at Gotham Zoo. He planned to make a fortune.

Gotham City Zoo.

Inside the zoo director's office.

"Sir, forgive me for saying so, but we've spent so much on promotion that even if the zoo is packed, we won't earn it back." The finance officer set a stack of receipts on the director's desk. "Take a look."

"We certainly spent a lot..." The director studied the receipts and sighed. "But it's fine. The zoo isn't paying for it."

"What?" The finance officer looked puzzled, then suddenly exclaimed, "Director, don't tell me you're paying for it out of your own pocket!"

"Do you think that's possible?" The director's face darkened.

"Fair point. You even steal the beef meant for the tigers. Expecting you to pay out of pocket was wishful thinking." The accountant shrugged. "So where's the money coming from? Don't tell me some rich guy just loves seals and paid for our advertising."

"Something like that." The director nodded. "Someone's sponsoring the entire event. All they asked was that we make sure as many people in Gotham City as possible know there's a festival that day."

"How strange..."

"Rich people have their quirks. Who can say?" The director tapped the receipts. "Which means you haven't billed nearly enough."

"How much more are you thinking?"

"Add another five percent. He probably won't notice." Greed flashed in the director's eyes. "Wait. Make it twelve percent. Someone who's already spent this much won't care about a little more."

"That's not a little more." The finance officer's eyes widened. "If we're caught, we'll both end up in Blackgate Penitentiary."

"Keep it discreet and we won't be caught. Isn't that your specialty?" The director smiled. "Don't worry. You'll get the same share as always."

"All right." The finance officer felt his eyelid twitch. He had done this with the director many times before, but this time he couldn't shake a sense of foreboding, as though something was about to go wrong.

Inside the zoo's Aquarium, the Riddler directed people as they adjusted several devices. He twirled his cane, lost in thought.

At the Falcone family residence, Alberto Falcone watched everyone bustling outside his room. He gathered his courage and went to find his father. "Father, I wanted to..."

"I'm not discussing this with you again. Don't even think about getting involved in any family business!" Falcone said impatiently. "Any of it!"

"I... Yes!" Alberto flinched at his father's voice and couldn't stop himself from trembling.

"You two, keep an eye on him. On March 1st, he isn't to go anywhere," Falcone told his bodyguards.

"Yes, Godfather." The two burly men nodded.

Alberto lowered his head and trudged back to his room, cursing inwardly. Bunch of idiots. Aren't you setting a trap to catch the Holiday Killer? If I'm stuck here, who are you going to use as bait?

At Harvey Dent's home.

Harvey stripped naked and stood before a full-length mirror.

He studied himself, but his gaze was as if he were looking at a stranger. Scars covered his body, all left from years ago, when he was still a child.

The person who had given him those scars was none other than Harvey Dent's father.

When Harvey was five, his parents had divorced over money problems, and Harvey had gone to live with his alcoholic father.

Heartbroken by the end of his marriage, Harvey's father drank even more heavily. Every night, when he came home drunk, he would take out a coin.

His father told Harvey that if the coin landed tails-up, Harvey would be spared a beating. If it landed heads-up, Harvey would be beaten for no reason at all. Only later did Harvey learn that both sides of the coin were heads.

Those beatings left deep psychological scars. From childhood, Harvey resolved never to become a man like his father. He studied relentlessly, became a lawyer, and later became district attorney. Even after being assigned to Gotham City, the city with the worst crime, he continued to uphold justice.

Harvey's expression kept shifting. He began murmuring to himself, as though holding a conversation with someone.

"When we do evil, we give nothing else a thought, yet when we do good, we're so devout. To say people are born good or born evil is too absolute. A person is never just one thing. The split is always happening."

"I may be a hopeless two-faced man, but whatever else I am, I'm no hypocrite. Both sides of me are utterly sincere."

"The truth is, a person is not one, but two."

"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars."

March 1st.

"See? Make the tables as small as possible and cram the chairs in tight. Don't let customers get too comfortable. They should leave as soon as they finish eating. Use the widest straws you can find and the biggest ice cubes you've got. That way they'll finish their sodas in one gulp and buy another." Roland directed his underlings as they set up a mobile stall in Gotham Zoo.

"Boss, if we sell stuff in here, won't the zoo staff throw us out?"

"It's fine. I gave the gate guard a little gift. Nobody's going to kick us out," Roland said smugly. "Paying him or paying the zoo gets us the same result, but paying him costs a lot less."

"Got it, boss. But there are some people near the Aquarium who won't let us get close."

"We're not allowed to sell there?"

"No. A few guys are selling souvenirs there. They look tough, and they're nasty, like they came from a gang. They're guarding the spot and won't let us bring our souvenirs near it."

"Oh, they think they own the place?" Roland's interest was piqued. "Then I'll go meet them."

"Be careful, boss. Those guys don't look like good people."

Do I look like a good person? Roland thought. He stuck a cigar in his mouth and headed straight for the Aquarium.

At the Aquarium entrance, he found exactly what his underling had described: several burly men in sunglasses running a stall. Strangely, they made no effort to attract customers. They just stood around doing nothing.

"What a waste of a good spot..." Roland crept toward them.

Don't blame me for fighting dirty. That's business competition for you! Roland cackled inwardly.