What if he made a lot of money?

Although the bird man's infatuation value had risen from 10 to 15, Ririko didn't want to waste any more effort dealing with him.

She leaned against his shoulder, tracing circles on his chest with her finger.

"Have you decided... to stay here and let me punish you, boss? My services aren't free, though."

Her teasing fingertips slid from his chest to his waist, skimmed the edge of his belt, and came to rest on his left thigh.

Oswald's breath abruptly stopped.

Nothing made him more sensitive than someone touching his lame left leg.

His left leg was the root of his deepest insecurity, the ugliest, most broken mark of shame he least wanted anyone to see.

Touching it was out of the question. If anyone dared even glance at it a little too long, he would raise his gun without hesitation and put a bullet in them.

He yanked the door open, no longer caring how undignified his escape looked.

"If you're fine, then get back to work. I won't be coming again."

He turned and pulled the door open, catching his lame foot on the threshold. His body swayed, and only planting his umbrella against the floor steadied him.

Ririko stared at the door he had slammed shut, a faint sneer curling her lips.

"Tch. As if I wanted you here."

She turned toward the head of the bed, trailing her fingertips over the dresses in the room one by one-

Black, red... that dark green velvet one wasn't bad either.

She pulled out a champagne-colored dance dress made of satin, with a calf-length hem and fringe around the waist that would ripple like water under the lights.

Tonight, she would visit the club as a guest. There were plenty of men there who were more generous, more agreeable, and more willing to spend money on her than her lame-legged boss.

That evening, the Iceberg Lounge's main hall was particularly lively.

Apparently, word had spread that an exceptionally beautiful waitress had joined the club. Business had grown so brisk that they had even needed to introduce a reservation system.

Ririko took the back stairs up to the first-floor banquet hall and paused before the full-length mirror at the corner.

The fine fringe around the waist of her champagne-colored satin dance dress swayed gently with every step.

She wore a translucent veil across her forehead, concealing the upper half of her face and leaving only her delicate nose and lips exposed, lending her beauty an even more seductive air.

She entered the hall like a beautiful woman with money and leisure who had come to enjoy herself, then elegantly took the seat at the very center of the bar.

She sat sideways on the tall stool and crossed her legs. The satin skirt slipped down from above her knees, revealing her calves and ankles.

The bartender froze when he saw her dressed like that. He was about to call her name when she silenced him with a warning look.

He shut his mouth and lowered his head, continuing to polish a glass.

He remembered the boss telling him to report any unusual behavior from Ririko... Discreetly, he pressed the button on the radio at his ear.

Ririko's alluring figure at the bar steadily drew more and more eyes.

Knives and forks slowed over steaks...

Champagne glasses paused in mid-toast...

Men murmuring to one another fell silent.

Yet not a single person dared approach her.

A stunning beauty sat alone at the Iceberg Lounge's bar, without a male companion, a female companion, or a bodyguard.

In the nightlife venues of Gotham's Upper East End, there were only two possible explanations for a sight like that:

Either she belonged to some powerful man who had yet to arrive tonight;

Or she herself was someone not to be crossed.

Whichever it was, the conclusion remained the same-watch first, and don't rush to your death.

Ririko was in no hurry.

Her seductive gaze swept the hall through her veil, like a cat perched high above a flock of feeding pigeons.

She was waiting for the fattest pigeon, the one farthest from the flock and easiest to catch, to step out on its own.

Before long, that fat pigeon appeared.

Her gaze settled on a man at the other end of the bar.

He was smartly dressed in a dark blue suit, with no tie over his white shirt. His open collar revealed a stretch of well-kept, bronze-toned neck.

A watch studded with small diamonds adorned his wrist. She couldn't make out the brand, but it glittered dazzlingly under the lights. It certainly wasn't cheap.

He looked to be in his twenties, with clean-cut, handsome features and the easy confidence of someone who had never suffered much growing up.

He had been watching her out of the corner of his eye. When he noticed her looking back, he openly returned her gaze with a smile.

Behind her veil, Ririko's lips curved slightly, and she beckoned him with a finger.

The man came over from the other end of the bar almost immediately.

As he passed the men who were still debating whether to approach her, their expressions complicated, whispers rose around him.

"Hello, I'm Jason Cobblepot."

He sat on the tall stool beside her and casually summoned the bartender, ordering two drinks. "One for this young lady."

As the bartender brought their drinks, his eyes swept over Ririko's face. He thought he had been right to report this to the boss.

Someone was hitting on the boss's favorite woman. This man probably didn't have long to live.

He set down the drinks and moved to the other end of the bar.

"Are you here alone, Mr. Cobblepot?"

Ririko was curious that Jason's surname was actually Cobblepot.

"I came here with my younger brother and sister today," Jason said, gently pushing one of the drinks toward her. "I never expected to have the chance to meet you."

Ririko studied Jason's face. It bore some resemblance to Oswald's.

But it lacked that hooked nose, and that bitter expression that made him look as though the whole world owed him eight million.

It lacked that dark, ruthless edge etched into his bones by struggling at the bottom and being ground down by life again and again.

"Is your surname really Cobblepot?" Ririko asked, her voice rising slightly at the end with just the right touch of innocence.

Jason took his driver's license from his pocket and handed it to her.

Ririko's eyes lingered on the license for a moment. Sure enough, he shared the bird man's surname.

Gotham wasn't all that big. There was a good chance they came from the same family.

"You Cobblepots certainly have interesting looks."

Jason assumed she was complimenting him. He smiled and tipped his chin toward a nearby table.

A young man and woman sat there. The man looked somewhat like Jason, while the woman's features were more delicate.

"That's my brother and sister. We Cobblepots really are a good-looking bunch. You have a good eye."

Ririko leaned a little closer and asked, "Do you have any other brothers? I mean, someone even more handsome than you..."

Jason took her words as flirtation.

He smiled, and the conversation gradually opened up.

"I do have an older half brother. A bastard my father had with a maid. He left the family a long time ago."

"Oh?" Ririko said.

Thinking she was interested in what he had to say, Jason continued.

"He was withdrawn and strange. Who knows which corner of Gotham he's hanging around in as some thug now."

Ririko leaned back, restoring a polite distance between them.

So this man didn't yet know that the older half brother he described as "some thug in a corner of Gotham" was the owner of this very club...

He didn't know that his brother carried an umbrella with a gun barrel hidden inside, and that the men who struck terror into people's hearts in Gotham's underworld called him Penguin...

Ririko took a sip of sherry.

The liquor slid down her throat, leaving a warm, faintly spicy aftertaste.

She smiled beguilingly. This Jason was even more interesting than the banana phone.

She adopted a casual tone. "What if that brother of yours wasn't some street thug, but had made a lot of money instead?"

Jason gave a laugh.

He made no attempt to hide the contempt in his voice, utterly certain and without a trace of doubt. "Impossible."

He raised his glass and took a sip, the ice clinking crisply inside.

"He had a weird temperament even as a kid. He only liked talking to birds, and everyone hated him. If someone like that could get rich-he'd have to have some kind of superpower."

Behind her veil, Ririko slowly smiled without a sound.

This fool didn't even know that the "withdrawn, strange bastard everyone hated" was sitting in his third-floor office right now, counting tonight's considerable takings...