Could you stop stepping on my toes?

Ririko took Bruce's arm, and he led her onto the dance floor.

His fingers were long and slender, his knuckles well defined, his nails clean and neatly trimmed. Every pore radiated the refinement nurtured by good genes and a privileged life.

As she turned, her gaze swept over his profile. The line from his brow to the bridge of his nose was straight and perfect, utterly beyond reproach.

But right in the middle of that intoxicating moment, another face picked the worst possible time to pop into her mind-

Messy red hair, deathly pale skin, a face left shattered and weary by Arkham's torments. Imperfect, yet breathtakingly handsome.

Ririko immediately deleted Jerome's face from her mind as though purging bad shots from her phone's photo album.

She had to focus on what was in front of her. This was the opportunity she had spent so long securing, from Arkham to the Iceberg Lounge, one painstaking step at a time, scheming carefully and treading as cautiously as if she were walking on thin ice.

"May I know your name?" Bruce looked at her gently.

"Ririko."

"Ririko." He rolled her name over his tongue. "Have we met somewhere before?"

Ririko's eyes curved in a faint smile. "I just came here from out of town."

"To attend college in Gotham?" Bruce's gaze lingered on her face for a moment, settling on the mole beneath her left eye.

"Yes." Ririko lowered her eyes at just the right moment, looking shy, as if to say, You guessed it.

She certainly wasn't going to admit that she was the Ririko from Arkham-the one with gauze over her left eye, wearing a lab worker's uniform, who had ultimately jumped off a cliff in desperation.

Bruce was secretly delighted.

A girl who had come from out of town to attend college in Gotham was exactly what he wanted: someone free of the layers of restrictions imposed by old-money families.

She was a college freshman like him. They would have plenty of time to get to know each other, develop feelings for each other-though he already liked her quite a bit-and build a relationship without having to consider pressure from their families.

Ririko narrowed her eyes as she watched Bruce's infatuation value rise to 5.

Sure enough, with both his parents alive, Bruce was just a delicate little flower raised in a greenhouse. There was no way he would become that man bounding around Gotham in butt-hugging tights.

She moved her body a little closer, but not too close, just enough for Bruce to catch her perfume and want another whiff.

Suddenly, the music around them cut off.

It was as though someone had hit pause on every instrument at the same instant.

Everyone looked around, assuming some major event was about to begin.

A voice came over the banquet hall's loudspeakers, its delivery comical and exaggerated.

"Ladies and gentlemen, young misses and masters-

Sorry for the wait, everyone. Our spectacular birthday party is about to begin."

A brief chuckle came through the loudspeakers, its lingering echoes amplified into a sound that raised goosebumps.

A group of people in colorful suits filed in, their faces coated in white greasepaint and their mouths smeared red. Each carried a heavy machine gun that had no business being at a birthday party.

Ririko gritted her teeth.

Damn it.

Why was it that idiot again?

He just had to show up and cause trouble now, neither a moment earlier nor later, right when she had finally managed to get Bruce.

Jerome's voice came over the loudspeakers.

"Don't get impatient, everyone." He sounded as though he were soothing a flock of frightened chicks, his voice so gentle it was almost kindly.

"I've prepared a thrilling little game for you all-"

He paused, as if letting anticipation build in the silence. "The game is called-find the bomb."

The guests in the banquet hall who had still been struggling to maintain their composure finally lost it.

Some began to cry quietly, some dialed their phones with trembling fingers, and others screamed hysterically.

Jerome's voice continued over the loudspeakers. "A bomb has already been planted in this club... It will explode in five minutes."

He paused, and another comical chuckle slipped from his throat.

"You can try to find the bomb, or keep celebrating and enjoy one last dance... Either is more than welcome."

As soon as he finished speaking, the banquet hall's doors were shut from outside.

Someone tried to rush to the doors. The moment their fingers touched the handle, a gunshot rang out, and they collapsed.

The Clown Army stood by the doors, their machine guns intimidating anyone who intended to escape the club.

Bruce tightened his grip on Ririko's hand.

He pulled her backward, trying to retreat to the other side of the banquet hall before anyone noticed.

Ririko ran with him. Her NPC instincts told her that even if he wasn't Fruit Bat Man yet, at least she wouldn't die quite so easily by his side...

But the next second, Bruce abruptly crumpled.

Ririko's mouth fell open as she saw a waiter standing where Bruce had been. He raised his face, revealing red hair beneath the brim of his cap.

With an eerie smile, Jerome said to Ririko, "Surprise!"

Ririko turned to run, but the next second, her vision went black.

In her last flicker of consciousness, Jerome's face slowly grew larger. He reached out and caught her soft body around the waist, her black hair falling beside him with a lingering trace of fragrance...

He reached out with one hand and tucked a loose strand from her forehead behind her ear.

"I have so many things... to share with you..."

He spoke softly to Ririko, whose eyes had fallen shut.

Ririko was jolted awake by a bout of violent shaking. It felt as though someone had stuffed her into a running washing machine, sending her world spinning.

She discovered that her hands were bound behind her back and a strip of cloth was pulled tight across her mouth.

She was in an SUV, which jolted violently along the road. With every bump, the back of her head struck the leather seat cushion.

She turned her head. Jerome sat beside her in his waiter's uniform, while another member of the Clown Army drove with the accelerator floored.

Ririko struggled to prop herself up and craned her head halfway into view of the rear window.

She finally understood why the car was jolting so badly. A black Mercedes was pursuing them relentlessly...

Butch sat in the Mercedes. A vicious crack ran across its windshield, and its body was riddled with bullet holes, but he still held the steering wheel firmly, his gaze resolute as he pursued Jerome's car.

Jerome looked back at Butch, his face alight with excitement.

He pulled a heavy machine gun out from beneath the seat.

"Good baby," Jerome said, patting the gun. "Give that big guy a proper welcome."

He raised the gun and pushed his upper body through the sunroof, his red hair fluttering in the night wind.

Ririko was horrified. If he fired that burst, even nine lives wouldn't be enough for Butch.

If Butch died, who else could save her?

She waited for the instant when Jerome's upper body was fully exposed outside the car and all his attention was focused on aiming, then kicked between his legs with every ounce of strength she had.

Jerome let out a howl, his body abruptly doubling over.

He pulled the trigger. The burst didn't hit Butch's car, but its tires instead.

The Mercedes screeched across the asphalt, spun, and crashed into the roadside railing.

The Clown Army member driving gaped, unable to believe that the woman before him had dared to kick Jerome in his most precious spot.

"Boss-are you okay?"

Still doubled over, Jerome drove an elbow into his face.

"Try it yourself and see if you're okay," he said through a pained grimace.

He whipped around toward Ririko.

"Are you insane?" he said.

Ririko glared at him, her lips forming a silent retort behind the gag: You're the insane one.

Jerome raised his fist, intent on teaching her that she had "messed with the wrong person," but his bluffing fist remained raised for several seconds without coming down.

Ririko lifted her leg again. Jerome instinctively covered his vulnerable little Jerome with both hands, but instead, she stomped hard on his foot-

Jerome let out another howl, clutching his aching foot, his face ashen.

"Could you stop stepping on my toes? It really hurts," he said, sounding a little aggrieved.

Ririko looked past his shoulder toward the rear of the car.

Several brightly colored cars had surrounded Butch's car.

She didn't know whether the bird man was in it.

Just as she tried to get a clearer look, a piece of black cloth came from behind and covered her eyes.