The next day was Monday, and everyone headed off to work or school as usual.
Dick had spent the night at the manor and had to get up early to return to Blüdhaven. Just thinking about going back to his little rented apartment there, where he would be stuck eating bland instant oatmeal day after day again, made his world go dark.
Usually, he had a box of cookies lovingly supplied by the old butler. But last night, he and Damian had broken Alfred's favorite teapot while roughhousing and dirtied the white, handmade wool rug, which was incredibly difficult to clean. As a result, the lovingly packed food box he had been looking forward to had been canceled too.
At that thought, Dick chewed even more slowly-this breakfast might be the last decent meal he would eat all week.
Alfred arrived with piping-hot soup. He had asked an old friend in Chinatown for the recipe, which was supposedly ideal for people who never ate on time, warming the body and soothing the stomach. Alfred served everyone a bowl.
Dick blinked pitifully at Alfred, trying to get him to rescind his punishment. But as he watched, his expression gradually changed-
Wasn't Alfred a little different from usual? He looked sort of... younger than before?
His suit was the same style as always, and his hairstyle hadn't changed either, but he somehow looked more sprightly.
Dick couldn't resist nudging Damian beside him with his elbow, earning a glare. "Grayson! Are you picking a fight first thing in the morning?!"
Fortunately, Damian still remembered yesterday's lesson. He kept his voice down and didn't immediately lash out.
"No, Rice, look at Alfred. Don't you think something's different about him?"
"Don't call me Rice!" Damian stressed viciously again, then lifted his chin with haughty pride,