Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot sat in a broad leather chair, dressed in a dark suit with a neatly tied bow tie, his monocle glinting faintly in the light. When he saw the two of them enter, he slowly rose and straightened the hem of his jacket, maintaining the dignity and gentlemanly bearing he valued above all else.
"Mr. Grayson." He nodded to Dick in greeting, then turned his gaze to Miaomiao with a strange eagerness. "And this must be the little guest I've been waiting for."
Oswald stepped forward, his manner formal, his voice clear and measured as he deliberately enunciated every syllable.
"Allow me to formally introduce myself once again. Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot. You may call me Mr. Cobblepot, or-" He paused, seemingly giving her enough time to remember. "Oswald."
Miaomiao tilted her face up and studied him earnestly for a few seconds, her little brows knitting as she tried to repeat that long string of names in her head.
"Sorry... I still can't remember it."
Miaomiao tugged at the corner of her clothes, a little embarrassed.
But she really couldn't remember it.
For a little merfolk who had grown up in the East, her people's culture was closely intertwined with that of the humans on land there, each influencing the other. They learned the language of those land-dwelling humans and listened to their stories and traditions.
Names back home had always been mostly two or three characters long, four at most, pleasant to hear and easy to remember.
But the language the land-dwelling humans spoke here was completely different, and their names were long, convoluted, and followed no discernible pattern. To Miaomiao, they felt nowhere near as friendly as a vivid, easy-to-remember nickname.
Miaomiao blinked and stared at him for a couple of seconds. After turning it over in