It was Ren's second day in Gotham. Nothing had happened.
That was the summary he gave himself as he lay on the living room couch, eyes closed, at ten o'clock that night.
He and Drake had picked up a decent amount of groceries on the way home. Camilla had been surprised—pleasantly so. She whipped up a surprisingly hearty dinner, and the three of them enjoyed the meal together. Drake even took the chance to talk about future plans he and Camilla had been thinking about. They seemed... hopeful.
Unlike the night before, the apartment was quiet. No shouting, no furniture being knocked around. Ren figured last night's chaos had just been the product of a couple reuniting after a long stretch of strained silence—absence making the heart grow fonder and all that. Tonight, they were probably just curled up together, enjoying the rare peace.
Gotham was quiet, too. Aside from the occasional distant gunshot and the soft patter of rain outside the window, the city seemed... hushed. When Ren looked into the dark sky, all he saw were the colorful glimmers of neon signs refracted through rain. No chaos. No alarms. No madness.
Maybe he could get a good night's sleep for once.
Gotham's taming me, he thought. Just the idea of sleeping peacefully was enough to make him feel... content. Almost happy.
Then again, maybe Gotham wasn't as insane as its reputation suggested. Not every night came with a deathtrap or exploding building.
That was what he told himself—right before he cracked one eye open and glanced out the window.
A dark silhouette darted across the top of Gotham's tallest clock tower. Hanging from one of the gargoyle statues was a figure, bound and swaying in the wind, clearly struggling, maybe even pleading for their life.
Ren silently retracted his earlier thought and lay back down.
Nothing happened, my ass.
Just another unlucky bastard caught by the Bat and strung up like a fish on display. Hopefully, whoever it was wouldn't walk away with lifelong trauma. Or maybe they would. Gotham didn't give refunds.
---
The next morning, Ren was up by 7 a.m.
It wasn't that he liked waking early—it was just that the rain from last night had acted like nature's lullaby. He'd slept better than he had in weeks. And once his eyes opened, there was no going back.
Fine by him.
He headed to the kitchen to make breakfast. Eggs, milk, cheap ham, and bread—nothing fancy. Just a quick fry-up and slap-it-together kind of meal. Basic stuff, but he knew his way around a frying pan.
The sizzle of oil hitting metal quickly woke up Drake and Camilla. They must have slept well, too—Ren's light cooking noises wouldn't have stirred a pair of insomniacs.
"Morning."
"Good morning."
Camilla looked even more relaxed than the day before. Her face had softened, her tone was warm. After a year of restless nights and mounting anxiety, she'd finally gotten some real sleep.
After breakfast, Ren said his goodbyes and stepped out. Today was his first official day at work. Getting there a bit early wasn't a bad idea—gave him time to scope out the area and settle in.
One thing was certain: he wasn't taking the damn Old Jack bus again.
No bike either. He tucked his Beretta into his waistband and walked out onto the street.
The morning crowd had started to gather—some people briskly heading to work, others avoiding eye contact with the tattooed, gaunt figures loitering on the sidewalk. People stepped aside without hesitation, not wanting to risk conflict.
This... this is the real Gotham, Ren thought. Not black, not white. Just gray. Struggling. Starving. Shuffling through the ruins of hope.
Even someone like Drake, with grit and a bit of savings, had only just carved out a breathing space. The ones without anything—no buffer, no backup—these were the people the underworld feasted on.
Someone might smuggle drugs for the gangs just to afford a birthday cake for their kid. Someone else might sell her body on a corner because she needed money for baby formula.
It was all shit. Ren hated it. Gotham's entire criminal industry thrived on the pain of people who didn't have a choice.
But if you wiped out the criminals... would anything really change for those people?
The sense of safety he'd felt just hours ago evaporated.
Just another bad morning in Gotham.
---
Ren flagged down a cab.
He hadn't brought more than two hundred yen in cash with him—on purpose. In case he got mugged. He figured he'd make it back up with tips by the end of the day. If luck was on his side, maybe he could even afford a cheap wheelchair.
Not for himself, of course.
He'd been eyeing a beginner-grade chair in the system marketplace. One hundred credits for the model. Two hundred if he wanted the auto-mod service.
Not bad. Great cost-efficiency.
He slid into the back seat, adjusted his coat to reveal his holstered pistol—just enough for the driver to notice in the rearview mirror.
Taxis that operated from Gotham's East Side weren't exactly known for safety. A visible weapon sent a clear message: don't mess with me.
It helped that he wasn't in a gang. If he had some kind of gang tattoo or insignia, that could've worked too. But then, your safety depended on how big your gang's turf was—and who was stupid enough to test it.
He pulled up the system interface on his phone.
Basic Vehicle Proficiency: $500. Reasonable.
Intermediate: $2,000. Oof.
Advanced: $10,000?! What the hell—is that for driving in a Formula 1 death match?
There was even a Bicycle Mastery skill. Useless.
Huh. What's this?
System Log Board. Custom AI Q&A—$1 per question.
Man. Even cheat systems come with AI functions now. Talk about product integration.
"Feels kinda low-rent compared to Mobius…"
"Sir, we're here."
The driver's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Ren checked the time. 7:40 a.m.
Wow. Old Jack really was garbage.
"That'll be $57," the driver said.
Ren sighed.
Gotham: where even cab fares feel like daylight robbery.
He paid and got out. If he hadn't flashed the gun, the guy probably would've charged him triple.
Ren walked the rest of the way, circling the block around the Red Dragon restaurant. He wanted to get a feel for the neighborhood before heading in.
At 8 a.m., the place was quiet. Just a few black-suited security staff, some servers wrapping up their night shift, and the front desk clerk preparing for the day.
Ren greeted his coworkers and made his way to the manager, handing over a slim training manual.
It was company policy for new hires to go through at least a few days of training before getting on the floor, but his situation was... unique. He needed the money. Donat, the owner, had let him learn on the job.
The supervisor blinked. "You finished it already?"
"Memorized the whole thing," Ren said casually. "Cramming the night before an exam is kind of my thing."
(End of Chapter)