That Damn Redhead Was Clearly Setting Her Up

Jerome glanced at the little folding stool.

"Bring another king's chair over," Jerome told his men.

The clowns were stunned. Jerome was actually going to let that rude woman sit as his equal?

Could it be... he secretly had a thing for the golden arches?

A man wearing ugly face paint stepped forward and said respectfully, "Boss, there's only one king's chair in the whole castle."

Jerome straightened from his sideways sprawl and sank into thought.

Of course a castle only had one throne. Was he supposed to give his seat to Ririko?

But he was perfectly comfortable where he was and had no intention of giving it up.

He looked into Ririko's alluring eyes, then quickly glanced away, feeling guilty.

Just then, he spotted a little pink unicorn chair in a corner of the castle.

"Bring that one over."

Ririko stared at the little upholstered stool wrapped in tape, thoroughly annoyed.

"Don't you have some game planned? Stop wasting time."

Jerome pouted like a child being scolded for doing something wrong.

He simply stood up from the king's chair and clapped his hands. "Bring that thing out!"

Several members of the Clown Army pushed an enormous wooden crate through a side door. Its planks were thick, and they struggled to move it.

The crate was opened.

Ririko's breath caught.

Butch was inside, tied spread-eagled to a specially made target, unable to move his hands or feet.

His clothes bore the damage of a fierce fight, his exposed skin seeped blood, and darts stuck out of several places on his body.

Jerome took a dart-firing air gun from a member of the Clown Army and loaded it with practiced ease.

Ririko's eyes widened. The darts had metal tips that could sink several centimeters into a wooden board.

Jerome raised the air gun, closed one eye, and lined up the crosshairs with Butch's face.

Butch's mouth was taped shut, and he stared straight at Jerome.

There was no fear in his eyes. He only wanted to see which direction the dart came from-and who killed him.

Jerome rested his finger on the trigger.

"I've practiced a few times. It's pretty fun," he told Ririko cheerfully. "I saved the eyes and nose especially for you."

He tilted his head, moving the crosshairs from Butch's eye to his nose, then from his nose back to his forehead.

Ririko's brows drew together slightly.

Butch wasn't one of her main romance targets, but he was one of the few people in this city who hadn't been much affected by the system or harbored any ill intentions toward her.

He had even cleaned the Clown Doll for her before he knew her...

Jerome's finger tightened on the trigger.

Ririko turned toward Jerome and said, "This game isn't fun."

Jerome lowered the dart gun and frowned.

Ririko's heart skipped a beat, afraid he would realize she was helping Butch.

She added an explanation. "He's so big. There's no challenge in hitting him."

Jerome's frown eased a little. He drew out a long "Oh," as though he agreed with her.

"Did you hear that?" Jerome raised his voice. "Hurry up and get a smaller target."

His damned competitive streak had been stirred.

His men immediately scurried off to obey.

Butch was pushed aside.

His gaze lingered on Ririko's face. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and understood that he was warning her to be careful.

Soon, several clowns pushed two people into the hall.

When Ririko saw who they were, she was even more shocked.

The captives were Bruce and Sofia!

Bruce's suit was torn in several places, tiny beads of blood seeped from his temple, and dried blood marked his face.

Sofia's curls were a mess, and she was still wearing that vivid red dress.

Both were gagged with strips of cloth, their hands bound behind their backs, sitting on two banquet chairs with most of the paint peeling off, dragged in from who knew where.

They looked up at Jerome, then at Ririko beside him.

Bruce's eyes held confusion and shock, as though he had realized he might have been deceived.

Had that mysterious girl "from out of town" been working with the redheaded lunatic from the start?!

Ririko swore inwardly.

For fuck's sake, that damn redhead was clearly setting me up.

She had finally managed to get close to Gotham's only two worthwhile heirs to old money, and now look at them. Both were tied to chairs, already convinced she was a fraud who had been putting on an act from the very beginning.

She turned to Jerome. He had raised the dart gun again, swinging the muzzle back and forth between Bruce and Sofia.

"Who do you want to see me shoot?" Jerome asked confidently. "Say what you like about me, but I never miss a shot."

The Clown Army beside him began egging him on.

Some clapped, some stamped their feet, and some whistled.

Their grins were like beasts baring their fangs, waiting to watch Gotham's two most celebrated golden children fall before their eyes-

So they could vent the resentment they had accumulated since birth toward people born worlds above them.

Ririko looked at Bruce and Sofia. Their eyes held different things.

Bruce's gaze was suspicious. He wasn't sure whether she was working with Jerome and desperately wanted to know the truth.

Sofia's gaze was furious, indignant that she, a daughter of the Falcone family, had been tied to a chair and put on display for a jeering mob of lunatics with painted white faces and red lips.

Leaving that bird bastard Oswald aside, the Wayne and Falcone families must be looking for them, Ririko thought.

With members of Gotham City's richest and most powerful families missing at the same time, even the police who never did any real work would have to take action.

Rescue was only a matter of time.

She only needed to use that time to find an opportunity to explain herself to Bruce and Sofia, and she could bluff her way through this.

With that thought, she made her decision.

She turned to Jerome and said softly, "I'm hungry."

Jerome's gun stopped in midair.

He turned his head, his finely shaped brows knitting. "You're hungry?"

Ririko stepped forward and met his eyes. "What else did you expect? I haven't eaten anything since last night... Did those stink eggs fill you up?"

The hall fell silent.

The members of the Clown Army couldn't help whispering among themselves.

"That woman kicked the boss, and now she says she's hungry..."

"She won't even let the boss play his game..."

"She made the boss eat stink eggs, too..."

Jerome glanced at the lackeys beside him, and everyone instantly shut up.

He lowered the gun. "What do you want to eat?"

Ririko lifted her head slightly. "A burger."

She was betting that he remembered risking danger to bring her a burger in Arkham's lounge.

Jerome gazed at her, something subtle shifting in his eyes.

"Within fifteen minutes," Jerome barked, spinning sharply toward his lackeys, "have the best burgers ready."

Everyone thought they had misheard.

The boss had abducted members of two great families from the Iceberg Lounge, but instead of playing with them, he wanted burgers?

Was Jerome Valeska serious?

Ririko looked at the members of the Clown Army who had yet to move, raised her chin, and said with cold arrogance:

"Did you hear him? Or do you want some stink eggs, too?"

The clowns exchanged looks, then scattered, afraid that if they were too slow, stink eggs would be shoved into places on their bodies where nothing should ever be shoved.

Ririko watched the rabble leave the castle.

If they made a big show of robbing a fast-food restaurant, they would surely alert the Wayne and Falcone families. Rescue might arrive tonight or tomorrow morning.

She turned around and found Jerome standing behind her.

They were close, close enough for her to make out the mark above his brow where he had once been burned by an electric shock.

His gaze was lowered, his amber eyes glistening.

"Did you really like that burger?"

Ririko's heart lurched.

Was he having another episode?