You really know how to have fun

Jerome's eyes lit up, and he lifted his chin from the back of his hand.

"How do we play?"

Ririko dipped one end of a fry into ketchup and spoke as she ate.

"Make the people you captured our servants. This castle is filthy, and all the rides are falling apart. Make them clean it properly and treat us as their masters."

Jerome frowned.

He felt this game was a little different from his original plan. He needed to assess it before deciding whether to use it.

"So we don't use them as targets? I was going to tie them to the roofs of the cars as live targets."

Ririko bit into the fry, its crisp crust breaking between her teeth.

"We can use them as targets after they clean the castle. Otherwise, they don't have to do anything except be targets. That's too cushy."

Jerome blinked, then his mouth stretched into a knowing grin.

"Not a bad idea."

Ririko continued, "And make them wear clown makeup and maid outfits. Wouldn't that be fun?"

She needed to keep the three of them safe, but not so "safe" that the damned redhead grew suspicious.

Jerome sprang out of his chair and clapped his hands. "You really know how to have fun."

Ririko smiled alluringly. "Now, the most important thing-"

Jerome looked at her, his eyes full of anticipation.

"-is to feed them all the burgers we can't finish, then make them clean the castle with stuffed bellies, sleepy and exhausted."

Laughter squeezed out from deep in Jerome's throat.

How had he never thought of such a "vicious" method?

Ririko held another fry to his lips.

Jerome looked at the fry, his rosy lips moving slightly.

In the end, he turned his face aside, took the fry from her hand, and stuffed it into his mouth.

His infatuation value jumped from 12 to 14.

He quickly turned around, conveniently hiding his faintly flushed face.

He told the clowns, "Get it arranged. Put those three in maid outfits and makeup, then have them start cleaning the castle."

The Clown Army exchanged looks. They seemed to understand every word he had said, but strung together, they weren't quite sure the words meant what they thought they did.

"Don't you understand? Put Bruce in a maid outfit! All three of them!"

Ririko sat at the long table, smiling as she watched the clowns hurry off to find maid outfits.

When the Clown Army brought the three of them up, Ririko nearly fell off her chair with its peeling paint.

Bruce Wayne's face, ranked first on the Gotham Gazette's list of "Men We Most Want to Marry This Year," was now coated in deathly white greasepaint, with a round patch of rouge on each cheek and bright red lips.

On his head sat a black-and-white maid headband trimmed with lace, with a dainty bow right in the middle.

He wore a black maid dress edged in white lace, its hem falling above his knees to reveal a stretch of smooth, nearly hairless thigh.

He even wore a pair of black women's lace-up leather shoes.

His hands were bound behind his back, and a strip of cloth had been stuffed into his mouth.

Sofia Falcone stood beside him, her long, dark hair spilling from beneath her maid headband.

Her maid outfit fit far better than Bruce's. Her face was also covered in white greasepaint and red rouge, and she was coldly eyeing the clowns beside her who didn't know what was good for them.

Butch stood at the back.

His maid outfit-if it could be called a maid outfit-was a dark blue, bedsheet-like thing draped haphazardly over him, with a white apron tied around his waist, its straps knotted tightly behind his back.

His thick, scar-covered calves were exposed, and he wore colorful striped socks inside his leather shoes.

Jerome tilted his head and stared at Butch for three seconds.

"Why is the big guy's maid outfit so ugly?" He was less than pleased with this "maid."

The clowns closest to him involuntarily took half a step back.

They explained that there weren't any maid outfits in such a large size, so they had to make do with an apron.

Jerome stared at them, his eyes full of a threatening Are you trying to fob me off?

The clowns swallowed.

"We'll go find an XXXXL maid outfit right now." Then they turned and ran.

Ririko looked at Bruce and Sofia.

Bruce gazed at her.

Though there was confusion in his eyes, surrounded by white greasepaint, there was even more composure and calm than befitted his age.

Ririko thought he looked rather cute in a maid outfit-at least much more appealing than in that fruit-bat bodysuit.

Sofia looked at her with neither gratitude nor trust in her eyes, only the wariness of the Falcone family's young lady.

Ririko ignored her.

"You, start cleaning the castle right now." Jerome's voice came from the king's throne, already sounding as though he considered himself the master. "Make it spotless."

Ririko turned to him. "I want them to clean my room first."

Jerome pouted. "I already assigned people to clean your room."

Ririko gave a cold snort.

"Those clowns of yours only know how to shoot. What do they know about cleaning?"

She tilted her head toward Bruce, Sofia, and Butch. "Those three have all had servants waiting on them. They know what properly clean looks like."

Jerome's gaze lingered on the three of them, a flicker of disdain passing through his eyes.

"Then her." Jerome pointed at Sofia.

He certainly wasn't going to let those two ugly males, one big and one small, into Ririko's room wearing those hideous dresses.

The Clown Army pushed Sofia toward the corridor.

Jerome watched her retreating figure and told Ririko, "Don't say anything to them."

Ririko turned her head and looked at him.

There was unmistakable jealousy in those amber eyes.

"What I care about is how clean this castle is." Ririko held her head high and followed Sofia.

With a feather duster and broom in hand, Sofia knocked and banged around Ririko's pink room.

Two armed clowns guarded the doorway, making sure she didn't say anything unnecessary to Ririko.

"I've finished cleaning."

Sofia made the announcement expressionlessly, then walked out of the room.

"Wait. You're slacking off on purpose, aren't you?" Ririko's voice came from inside.

Arms folded, she walked up to Sofia with a haughty air. "Does the Falcone family's young lady not even know how to wait on someone?"

She imitated a club manager scolding a new server, putting on an utterly obnoxious expression.

Sofia stood before her, clutching a wet rag and glaring back without the slightest restraint.

"Still not convinced? Come see for yourself!"

Ririko grabbed her wrist and dragged her into the bathroom.

Ririko slammed the bathroom door shut and deliberately raised her voice.

"This is your idea of cleaning a bathroom? There's still dust in the tub. Did you wipe the water stains off the mirror? Did you pull the hair out of the drain? You're so used to being waited on that you can't even do something this simple properly?"

Sofia stood beside the bathtub, her white-painted face expressionless.

All those places were perfectly clean. What exactly was she unhappy about?

The two clowns outside exchanged looks. Are you going in, or am I?

One took half a step forward, and the other reached out to stop him.

In the end, they reached a conclusion: it was best not to interfere when women were arguing.

Ririko turned on the faucet, and the rushing water drowned out their conversation.

Lowering her voice, she told Sofia, "Give me a million, and I'll get you out."