Sal Maroni

William had guessed Stuart might cause trouble, but he had never expected it to be this serious.

Charloes pulled out a pair of brass knuckles, while Sal Maroni went further, drawing a gold-plated Winchester from beneath his desk.

Seeing the situation about to spiral out of control, William spread his arms and stepped in front of the gun.

Honestly, his legs were trembling with fear.

He was terrified that Maroni might pull the trigger before he could react, or shoot his own son in a fit of rage.

Fortunately, Maroni did neither.

"Get out of the way! I'm counting to three!"

His thunderous roar made the windows rattle.

But William did not back down.

He had to stop this confrontation.

To do so, he even spent another beacon on Maroni.

As a prominent figure in Gotham, Maroni, like Gordon, was a character whose favor could be raised without a quest. But precisely because there was no quest, William could not earn any rewards from him.

In other words, winning Maroni over served little purpose.

But in this situation, he could no longer spare that beacon.

When the beacon moved onto Maroni's portrait, the familiar thought bubble and affection bar appeared before William's eyes.

Just as he had suspected, Maroni's affection for his illegitimate son was practically zero.

What he had not expected was that the affection bar would rise visibly, filling an entire heart in the blink of an eye.

Why?

I just talked back to him!

William's mind brimmed with questions, but he had no time to ponder them.

"One!"

"Calm down! Stuart isn't an enemy!" William's lips trembled.

"Two!"

"I swear on my life, he won't hurt anyone!"

"Three..."

"Go ahead and shoot. If I move even half a step from this spot, I don't deserve the Maroni name!"

William's heart pounded beneath the gun barrel pressed against his chest, and his brief bout of rapid breathing left him dizzy. Thankfully, Maroni lifted his finger from the trigger.

"I'll give you one minute to explain."

Maroni sat back in his leather chair and folded his hands on the desk.

In stark contrast to his vicious expression, his affection for William began climbing rapidly again, soon filling a second heart.

William found the answer in Maroni's thought bubble.

[He's braver than I imagined. Have I really never seen him for who he is, all these years?]

With the immediate crisis over, William pressed a hand to his forehead, turned, and poured himself a glass of water.

As he drank, he explained to Maroni how he had met Stuart and used that suitcase of money to recruit him. He had prepared this account long ago, leaving out every detail involving Gordon and Batman.

"Stuart is a gifted fighter. He can help me complete your assignment, and once the dust settles, he can continue serving the Maroni Family."

"The family has no need for a rebel like him. Everything he did just now crossed the line."

Maroni tapped his fingers against the desk, propping his cheek on his right hand and squashing the thick flesh of his face. Beside him, Charloes laughed so hard his shoulders shook.

As far as he was concerned, this slum thug had caused serious trouble, and his father must have been utterly disgusted with William by now.

But Maroni's next words took an unexpected turn.

"Still, if you really want to keep him by your side, then keep him."

For a moment, Charloes thought he had misheard. Had that indulgent tone really come from his father?

He looked at his father in disbelief, only to find Maroni staring at him too.

"Father..."

"Leave us. William and I have something to discuss."

Those words seemed to suck the soul out of Charloes.

A private conversation with his father.

Since when did an illegitimate son deserve that kind of treatment?

Had that pathetic show of false courage just now actually fooled his father?

A thousand words clogged his throat, but in the end, all he managed was an obedient nod.

Charloes and Stuart left the room one after the other.

Contrary to his usual behavior, Charloes walked behind Stuart, his head lowered like some junior lackey.

Perhaps Stuart's gaze had made him instinctively sense danger. Those eyes were far too sharp; a single glance into them had left him feeling as though his eyeballs were about to be sliced open.

Where had William dug up someone this dangerous?

Standing outside the door, Charloes took the initiative to break the silence.

"Come work for me. Whatever William paid you, I'll double it."

Stuart did not respond. He did not even spare him a glance.

Strange as it seemed, his little performance inside the room had been intended to catch the mob boss's attention, allowing him to ditch William and move on to bigger things.

Stuart had no desire to take up the Batman identity. He thought his current life was pretty good, and recovering his memories meant getting dragged into the Wayne Family's disputes.

That was far too much trouble.

He and William had been roommates for two days. Over those dozen or so hours, aside from snoring and teeth grinding, what he had heard most were complaints and reproaches.

He sees me as a burden. If I weren't Batman, William wouldn't even give me the time of day. But the good news is, I don't think much of him either.

That was what Stuart had been thinking these past few days.

But that thought had died forever the instant Maroni raised his gun.

Gangs were more dangerous than he had imagined.

Stuart realized he had screwed up.

That realization came with both an assessment of the danger and guilt toward William.

Yet he had never expected William to shield him from the gun, choosing to stand with him when he could have walked away.

He kept reminding himself-He definitely didn't do it for you. He did it because you're Batman.

But in that instant, he had gained an entirely new view of William.

All he could say was that Charloes had offered his olive branch at the wrong time.

Meanwhile, inside Maroni's office.

"Does your hand still hurt?"

"Yes."

William answered honestly.

"Good. There's no need to pretend in front of family. Say what you really think." Maroni left his desk and walked over to the sofa.

He pointed to the seat opposite him, motioning for William to sit.

By leaving his raised, throne-like desk and deliberately lowering himself to William's level, Maroni was sending a message that William understood perfectly.

Maroni would probably be speaking to him in the unfamiliar role of a father now.

"That young man-I heard you call him Stuart. What do you think of his abilities?"

"He's very capable. That's why I recruited him."

"And do you think he gives you the respect you deserve?"

William wanted to say yes, but on second thought, the man's erratic, unhinged behavior made it obvious that he had no regard for him.

He shook his head.

"That's the heart of the problem. When choosing subordinates, loyalty matters as much as ability..."

Just then, someone knocked on the door. A slight young waiter entered carrying a hookah, set it up, lit the coals, and left without a word.

Maroni watched the waiter's retreating figure until the door closed.

"Do you know why I called him in?"

William shook his head.

"I wanted to give you an example. His name is Oswald, a clever, capable fellow who's always full of crafty ideas. I noticed him a long time ago. To test his abilities, I gave him an empty suitcase and sent him to make a deal with the Mexicans..."

William's brow twitched.

Wasn't that practically sending him to his death?

"He came back alive, covered in wounds, but he brought back the cocaine."

"I falsely claimed he'd lost the payment, stripped him of all his authority, and put him to work as a waiter in this club. Oswald was deeply grateful."

"I know he's capable, but he isn't loyal enough. A man like that is a liability. I'll find an opportunity to get rid of him..."

Maroni took a pull from the hookah and leaned back comfortably against the sofa.

A few seconds later, he opened his eyes and turned them toward William.

"I hope you can do the same."