I Can Be Your Assistant

Hugo walked slowly up to her, the hem of his white coat almost brushing her knees.

Their eyes met.

Ririko's right eye curved slightly, her lashes fluttering softly like a butterfly's wings.

She lowered her head, and her long hair slipped off her shoulders.

From Hugo's angle, all he could see through her hair was the moist, reddened corner of her eye.

That sorrowful look could have broken any man's heart.

Of course, she wasn't crying.

But the fat pig who had just harassed her was still on the floor, while she sat despondently in the chair. That scene had more impact than any real tear.

On the system panel, Hugo Strange's infatuation score ticked upward.

[Current infatuation score: 32]

The fat guard was still struggling on the floor.

Hugo didn't spare him another glance. He said something to the special guards.

The two guards nodded, hauled the fat guard off the floor, and dragged him away.

The fat cop didn't even get a chance to beg. His shoes scraped twice across the tiles before he disappeared through the recreation room doorway.

The recreation room fell silent.

Ririko raised her head slightly, taking in his sharply defined jaw, his thin, tightly pressed lips, and the eyes fixed on her from behind his tinted glasses.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She lightly brushed the reddened corner of her eye and rose from the chair.

The instant she stood, her fingertips grazed his white coat, so lightly and quickly that they "accidentally" sent a tiny ripple through the fabric.

Hugo stood perfectly still, seemingly allowing the touch on purpose.

Ririko kept her head lowered, her voice soft:

"It's terrifying here. Everyone's insane. That guard... the way he looked at me..."

She deliberately leaned a little closer. "If I stay here any longer, I'm afraid I won't be able to hold on."

Hugo's face was cold, his expression unreadable behind the tinted lenses.

"I'll have someone take you to the laboratory," he said coolly.

The corners of Ririko's lips lifted slightly.

He hadn't comforted her, merely arranged for someone to take her to the laboratory.

But that already served her purpose of spending time with him.

She moved a little farther away and looked at him with her signature beautiful, fragile, pitiful gaze.

"Thank you, Professor Strange," she said quietly.

He said nothing more and turned toward the recreation room door.

Ririko wore Arkham's blue nonslip socks. The rubber dots on their soles made each step rustle like a cat's paws padding across a wooden floor.

She followed the special guards to a corridor in the deepest part of Arkham.

Iron doors stood silently on either side, their small windows covered with mesh. Behind those windows were rooms darker than the corridor.

As Ririko passed the doors, she could smell different odors seeping through the cracks...

Disinfectant, rust, the stench of urine, some sickly sweet smell of decay...

Each smell corresponded to its own particular kind of despair.

The laboratory was larger than she remembered.

The first time, she had been strapped to a bed, limiting her view.

Now, walking in through the doorway, she saw instruments on the workbench and rows of wall cabinets along one side. Through their glass doors, she could see neatly arranged reagent bottles and petri dishes.

At the far end of the room stood a desk and a black leather swivel chair, its back rising above head height, like some throne of power.

Ririko's gaze settled on the edge of the desk, where a newspaper lay, still smelling of ink. It was probably today's.

Before Hugo came in, Ririko skimmed the Gotham Gazette.

"Wayne Pharmaceuticals held a grand opening ceremony yesterday, with Thomas Wayne outlining a new future for healthcare in Gotham."

The accompanying picture was a group photograph.

Several people stood outside a building decorated with ribbons. On the far left was a middle-aged man with thick, graying hair and strong features, his right arm around the shoulders of the woman beside him.

The woman was mature and elegant, a pearl necklace around her neck and a gentle, ladylike smile on her lips.

They were Thomas Wayne and Martha Wayne.

A young man stood in front of them.

Ririko recognized him as Bruce Wayne, the only son of the city's richest family. He had probably only just come of age.

He stood half a step ahead of his parents, his body angled slightly toward the camera, a restrained smile on his lips.

His hair was very dark, his brow prominent, and his features more refined than Thomas's. His sheltered eyes looked like two freshly washed glass marbles.

Ririko stared at the photograph, an inexplicable irritation stirring in her chest.

Look at this happy family. Look at this golden boy, so well protected by his parents, who grew up in the cesspool of Gotham without getting a speck of mud on him.

He had never experienced Gotham's true darkness, because someone else had experienced it for him.

Ririko bitterly reflected that she, an insignificant NPC, had taken a bullet in Crime Alley for his parents, who should have died.

Her gaze swept over the rest of the article.

"...Thomas Wayne is reportedly scheduled to visit the Arkham Comprehensive Treatment Center next month to inspect its mental health programs and hold preliminary discussions on future cooperation between Wayne Pharmaceuticals and Arkham..."

Ririko's heart skipped a beat.

She quickly finished reading the article.

Thomas Wayne was coming to Arkham. If he knew she had taken a bullet for him in Crime Alley, and had even lost her left eye because of it...

He would surely compensate her. He would use his wealth and influence to get her out of Arkham.

She had to seize this opportunity.

The sound of the door sliding open came from behind her.

Ririko's body tensed slightly, and she drew her fingers away from the newspaper.

Hugo entered the room, and the system displayed:

[Target character has entered effective range.]

"Your body... has recovered well," he said.

Ririko tilted her head to look at him.

"Did you see everything through the cameras?" she asked softly.

Hugo didn't come any closer.

"Monitoring you is also for your safety."

Ririko noticed that he was actually explaining his behavior.

But Hugo Strange had no need to explain himself to anyone.

He was Arkham's chief physician. He needed no reason, no justification, and no approval to monitor anyone he wanted.

Yet now he was justifying his behavior to her. No, he was making excuses.

She cocked her head and blinked her right eye.

"For my safety? Or... for your own selfish desires?"

Hugo's expression didn't change.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked.

Ririko turned and settled into his chair.

The black leather swivel chair sank a few centimeters beneath her weight.

Her body nestled into the cushion, her glossy hair spilling over the black chair back, creating more visual tension than any contrasting colors could have.

Her feet didn't reach the floor.

This chair had never been designed for a woman of average stature.

She leaned against the backrest and drew her knees slightly toward herself.

"Arkham is so boring... There's no one to keep me company, and nowhere to go."

Her tone was languid, carrying an unmistakable appeal.

Hugo watched her sit brazenly in his chair.

That chair was one of his most personal possessions from all his years at Arkham.

It had only ever borne his weight. Now Ririko sat in it, her warmth seeping into the soft leather, her body fitting into the familiar indentations.

Ririko glanced sidelong at him. He showed no intention of making her leave.

She voiced the idea she had already worked out:

"Why don't you let me keep you company while you work every day... I can be your assistant."

Hugo's Adam's apple bobbed.

"You want to be my assistant?" he asked.

Ririko lifted her hands from the armrests and, like a little cat stretching, draped herself across the desktop in front of her.

"The kind who stays by your side, ready to satisfy your every..."

Her right eye narrowed slightly.

"Assistant."