64-66

Chapter 64: Christmas Eve 

"I found the person, but I won't tell you his identity. I can only tell you that there were no items or clues related to the Calendar Man killer in his room. And since he arrived in Gotham, he's gotten hold of five guns in total, none of which were .22 caliber Clipper, or even .22 caliber at all." 

"And the most important point is, his marksmanship is terrible, absolutely terrible. There's no way he could have shot and killed five gang members rapidly in just a few seconds." 

That's right, Cody thought. The total time I've spent practicing shooting is less than half a month. There's no trace on me of knowing how to handle a gun. I've only even fired a gun once in an exchange, and my sole achievement was a hanging lamp. That misled everyone's judgment. 

Harvey looked at the shadow in the darkness. He really wanted to know the person's identity, but if Batman wasn't saying, it meant he had his reasons. 

"He's consistent with Harvey's account, Gordon. We should trust our old friend." 

Gordon frowned, thought for a moment, and finally nodded slowly. 

"Alright, at least Harvey donated the money... but you'll probably run into trouble because of this later." 

"Questions, investigations..." Harvey shrugged. "Doesn't matter, I can handle that kind of stuff. What about you, heard there's a congee stand in the Narrows recently?" 

"Heard about it? The GCPD has been busy with that for the past few days." 

"Heard the congee there is really good? What's it called..." 

"Laba Congee. It's a traditional holiday food from the East." 

Batman chimed in casually. He had specifically looked into it after he got back. 

"It tasted alright." 

"?" 

Gordon and Harvey's eyes widened instantly, staring at Batman in the shadows. 

What the heck? Are you Batman? Did someone take over your account? 

How could Batman say something so casual? 

"Ahem, getting back to business. The Holiday Killer case still isn't solved, but I've got a small lead." 

His low voice swept the previous topic aside. 

"He wore a black round hat on his head, a wide trench coat, his face was blurred, and he had on rough men's gloves. Aside from the hat, everything else was gray." 

"...And?" 

"Nothing. That's all there is." 

"What kind of lead is that..." Harvey and Gordon exchanged glances, then sighed. "That kind of getup is easy to find anywhere. I've even got a set at my place." 

"That's true," Gordon agreed. "That piece of evidence isn't as unique as the ugly pumpkin." 

"There's no need to keep chasing the ugly pumpkin," Batman shook his head. 

"The lead ends here. That trail is cold." 

It didn't snow today. 

But that was just for today. In reality, the entire city of Gotham had already been blanketed by days of heavy snow, the whole city practically wearing a thick white winter coat. 

Only, this winter coat wasn't very warm. 

Cody, stirring the congee in the big pot, didn't feel cold, though. The Santa Claus cosplay outfit from the system store was genuinely warm. He even had to switch to a longer spoon and stand a bit further away from the steaming pot to avoid sweating. 

He was more impressed by the kids playing in the snow. 

"Hey! Hey! You little punk! I told you not to rub yourself with snow!" 

Commissioner Gordon's booming voice carried over. For the past few days, he would occasionally come to the congee stand to help keep order and register the number of street kids in the East End. Even though he didn't say it, Cody could tell he was enjoying himself. 

Maybe being around this group of resilient wild kids made him feel a bit younger too? 

The glasses-wearing commissioner had a stern face. He took three steps in two, grabbing a kid who was bare-chested and covered in patches of snow. "You little rascal, didn't I tell you guys there's a temporary shower area set up here!" 

"Sorry, Commissioner," 

Jason's face instantly fell. His eyes darted around, looking very lively. There was no trace of the earlier melancholy on his face, and his body was noticeably sturdier than before. 

"But, Commissioner, the shower area is all full, and... and I really wanted to try what it feels like to shower with snow." 

"At your age, trying that will put you in bed with a fever for a week! Go! Put your clothes on!" 

Jason reluctantly looked up at Cody standing nearby. Seeing Cody, wearing the Santa hat, shrug at him, he could only obediently turn around to get his new clothes. 

The winter clothes were specially made by Wayne Apparel. They roughly estimated the kids' sizes and made several categories. Besides aiming for warmth, they also considered a bit of aesthetics. Of course, for kids who barely had clothes on their backs, just being warm was already precious enough. 

Cody watched Jason and chuckled inwardly. With food and warmth, Jason's naturally mischievous and playful nature had been unleashed. This personality, which had evolved into strong aggression during years of living on Gotham's streets, was now just that of a curious kid. 

But what amazed him more was Commissioner Gordon's personal charisma. As the "cop" most hated by the street gangs, he had won their trust in just a few days. You couldn't help but feel impressed – this was the top-tier ability of someone who rose from an isolated little police officer in the GCPD to Commissioner of Gotham. 

Speaking of why Jason might think of rubbing himself with snow – it was probably because he actually felt a bit hot. 

Gotham City Winter Status: In Progress (31.592%) Rewards Activated 

'Holiday' Attribute Effect Activated. Cooking the holiday food 'Laba Congee' grants the attributes 'Balancing Nourishment' and 'Warming & Cold Dispelling'. 

Balancing Nourishment: Mixed grains, mixed congee, balancing nourishment. Laba Congee's nutritional supplementation effect for eaters is enhanced. Warming & Cold Dispelling: Ingredients are warm in nature, warming and cold dispelling. Laba Congee's cold resistance effect for eaters is enhanced. 

Currently Obtained Attribute Enhancement: 31.592% 

Note: Seriously, maybe cook two fewer meals of congee? This much nourishment all the time isn't really great either... 

Thanks to Wayne Logistics' efficiency and the kids' network of gangs and insider knowledge, Cody, with Jason's help, quickly found the locations of the homeless kid gangs within Gotham City. The number of these children was quite astonishing. In just a short time, they had brought Cody's mission progress to thirty percent. 

With three meals a day being served consistently, the Laba Congee's holiday attribute had also stacked to this point. After finishing a bowl of congee, the eater could gain 30% cold resistance for twelve hours, along with the nutritional supplementation effect. 

From the current situation, this effect might be a little too good. 

Even Cody himself had gained a little muscle recently. Of course, if he didn't start exercising soon, he might start getting nosebleeds from drinking the congee. 

"You have a new gig. Please check it." 

Cody's heart skipped a beat. He put down the big spoon, took out his phone, and checked today's calendar. Sure enough— 

"December 24th, Christmas Eve." 

Chapter 65: Who Did You Say Ran Away? 

Christmas Eve in Gotham City. 

Right now, heavy snow started falling again. The thick layer of snow looked pale under the moonlight, like burnt-out ashes. 

The tall, dark Arkham Asylum stood quietly in the night, dimly lit by scattered lights. Enclosed by strict guards and the iron fences surrounding the entire asylum, its blurry shadow, nearly merging with the darkness, was immense, like some monstrous beast from supernatural legends lurking in the night. 

Today was Christmas Eve, and after midnight, it would be Christmas Day. 

Commissioner Gordon's expression was grim as he hurried along beside Batman. Tonight should have been just a normal Christmas Eve, but now he had to specially rush here from the congee shack, to this heavily guarded prison specifically for housing supercriminals and lunatics. 

Days of exhausting work, a Gotham plagued by frequent crime, the Holiday Killer still on the loose – every single thing kept his nerves on edge. Fortunately, a small congee shack had appeared in the East End recently. This had eased his mood a bit. Every time he went there and saw the kids, he felt his body recharge. 

Of course, it might also have been because he drank a bowl of the congee himself. 

"Joker's loose again. He's already hit a few families – good heavens, he didn't kill anyone, but he stole all their Christmas presents." 

"I know." 

Facing Gordon's case update, Batman, walking ahead, gave only that brief reply. 

Commissioner Gordon raised an eyebrow, looked at the two pointed ears on Batman's cowl, and instinctively retorted, "You know? How? We just got the news, and... never mind." 

Having worked with Batman for years, he'd realized that when Batman could do things beyond the norm, there was no need for him to exclaim or question it. 

So he shook his head, his gaze shifting towards the countless cell doors in this massive prison. "There are too many criminals here, about double what there were when you first showed up in Gotham. I'm not saying there's a direct connection between the two, but... do you have any idea about this?" 

Facing Gordon's lengthy question, Batman's face remained expressionless. Only another short, deep answer came from his mouth. 

"No." 

Gordon: "Oh." 

In reality, Batman knew exactly what Gordon was talking about. He was hinting at a phenomenon. 

Batman's existence, for some reason, attracted these men and women, these murderers, perverts, psychopaths, and supercriminals, drawing them to this city, to Gotham. 

Jim Gordon is a good man, he thought. Gordon and the GCPD officers, with limited resources, pushed everything they could do to the limit. They worked hard to maintain order in Gotham. 

But Gotham City needed Batman to protect her from the many criminals, criminals like Julian Day – so Batman couldn't disappear, at least not now. It was for Gotham. 

Julian Day is a supercriminal known by the moniker Calendar Man. 

The prison cell, sealed off by a bulletproof glass door, was spotless. There was only a bed, a calendar, and calendar pages torn off and scattered all over the floor. Pure white light covered the entire cell, making it as bright as day. 

A figure in white robes was pressed against the clean glass door. His spotless bald head reflected the pure white light, shining brightly. He was muttering something under his breath. 

"Months with thirty days have September, October, June, and –" 

"I've talked with the District Attorney's office, Julian," Gordon interrupted Calendar Man's muttering. "If you help us with these few murders, they're happy to reduce your sentence." 

"We think, given your interest in combining crime with calendars – maybe you could spot some clues?" 

Calendar Man's response was surprisingly prompt. Facing Gordon's questions, he actually started answering immediately. 

"Tomorrow is a big day. She will kill again." 

Batman's voice sounded at this moment, still low and devoid of emotion. "What makes you think the killer is a woman?" 

Julian stopped his rambling then and entered 'soothsayer mode.' He continued to mutter, sounding like he was answering, but not quite. 

"Because he likes it that way. He likes to draw attention." 

"Nobody knows who she is, and he has made a name for himself – or her." 

"You've been lucky so far. Come February, there will be Lincoln's Birthday, Washington's Birthday, and President's Day." 

Gordon understood what he meant. November had Halloween and Thanksgiving, and a murder happened each day. December didn't have many holidays; so far, it was Christmas, and there might be one more murder – or two. 

But if they got to February next year, there would be three holidays. There might be as many as three murders that month alone. 

So he instinctively refuted this possibility: "February? By then, we'll definitely have caught the killer." 

However, Calendar Man didn't acknowledge Gordon's rebuttal, instead accelerating his speech. 

"Groundhog Day (February 2nd), Ash Wednesday (the start of Christian Lent, likely also in Feb; the entire Lenten period is a religious holiday lasting a full 40 days, meaning it would likely run until April), Secretary's Day (the Wednesday of the last full week in April), Earth Day (April 22nd), Flag Day (June 14th), Boxing Day (December 26th), Hanukkah (roughly also in December)..." 

Gordon stood frozen in front of the glass door, watching Julian Day list off holidays, spanning from before the year's end to the beginning of the next, and continuing from the year's end back to the beginning. A horrifying chill instantly swept through his entire body. If the Holiday Killer's knowledge of holidays and their murderous actions were truly as extensive as the holidays Julian Day listed, plus the holidays they'd already committed crimes on this year, this guy would be killing like a bloody butcher from the beginning of the year to the end next year. 

Especially Lent – a full forty-day killing spree. How many people would die then? 

"Let's go." 

Batman's voice startled him awake. He turned around and saw that the other man still wore that stern face, as if he hadn't heard Calendar Man's entire horrifying 'menu' of holidays. He turned and walked away with steady steps. 

This Bat, it was like he was made of iron. 

On the other side, Cody opened his task interface again. 

The Christmas Snow Globe 

Task Description: You know the drill, no need to spell it out. This time the requirement is to make a silent snow globe music box with a snowman inside. 

Note: Sweet dreams. 

Status: To Be Completed (0/1) 

Reward: A small snow globe music box with a snowman. It doesn't need winding up. When someone nearby needs a high-quality sleep, it will sing a song. 

Chapter 66: The Clown 

Making a music box model inside a crystal ball – this requirement was technically more complex than the previous two, but it wasn't actually difficult to fulfill, because the requirement was for it to be "silent." 

A music box that didn't need to make sound was just a regular crystal ball. The most complex parts, the music cylinder and the comb/tines, could be completely omitted. You just needed to make it spin. 

The components for that part were easy to buy, and assembly wasn't hard. Cody didn't need to spend extra skill points buying a basic crafting skill; he could just follow tutorials found online step-by-step to put it together. 

"Good thing tomorrow is Christmas, and the Falcone family isn't holding a big banquet. They're all staying home for the holiday. Otherwise, I'd have to specifically ask a Falcone for time off... Tch, is this what that 'employee vibe' feels like?" 

Don't misunderstand, as a regular waiter, Cody currently had no chance of bothering the busy crime boss of Gotham City. Even if he successfully transitioned into a chef, it wouldn't happen. The Falcone he'd have to ask for time off from was the Roman's own son, Alberto Falcone. 

Despite being the crime boss's actual son, this guy's name was rarely mentioned by the family. Whether it was in newspaper reports or by insiders in Gotham's underworld, the impression of him was limited to just four words: smart, transparent. 

He had earned a scholarship to Harvard through his own efforts and later pursued advanced studies at Oxford. His education and intelligence stood out head and shoulders above anyone else in Gotham's mafia. Logically, with a son like this, the Roman's underworld empire should clearly have a successor. 

But the second impression, 'transparent,' was something the Roman himself had created. Carmine Falcone had forbidden Alberto Falcone from getting involved in the family business since childhood, instead making his older brother Mario Falcone and sister Sofia Falcone his right and left hands, assisting with family affairs. Alberto had repeatedly told his father he wanted to follow in his footsteps, but the answer was always the same. 

"No, you don't need to be involved in the family business." 

So, he could only be responsible for some trivial, harmless tasks within the family, living the life of a wealthy young master like Bruce Wayne – but he wasn't used to being as unrestrained as Bruce, which made him seem even more introverted and inconspicuous. The impression people had of him grew thinner and thinner. 

But in reality, Cody could say with certainty that he was absolutely Falcone's favorite son, without question. 

Meanwhile— 

"Dent! It must be Harvey Dent!" 

Outside Maroni's Italian restaurant, faint, fragmented voices were swallowed by the swirling snow. Doors and windows were tightly shut and covered, preventing any passersby from seeing what was happening inside. 

Inside the restaurant, the dim mood lighting typical of a high-end establishment illuminated one dining table, vaguely lighting up the area around it as well. 

Most of the tables and chairs had been neatly stacked away; the entire restaurant seemed empty at the moment, having been cleared out by the two people at the table. 

"I need to find some people, my dear friend – I mean, find some good guys, to put in the D.A.'s office, keeping an eye on Harvey Dent twenty-four/seven." 

"It's already being arranged, Mr. Maroni. Found a kid, name's Vernon. Hahahahahaha hehehehe..." 

The man with the mustache held his red wine glass, unable to help but let out a sinister chuckle. His voice was eerily similar to an evil cartoon villain – which was fitting, considering the dark villainous nature of what he'd just said. 

"My dear friend...?" Maroni, sitting opposite him, frowned. This kind of loss of composure from the other man was unusual, and that villainous laugh was truly unsettling. "What the hell is so damn funny about this?" 

However, the man holding the wine glass remained silent, simply continuing his bloodcurdling laughter. 

"Hehehehe... Hoho... Hahaha... Huhu huhu—" 

"Gurgle!" 

Laughing wildly, he threw down his wine glass and plunged face-first into the plate of pasta in front of him. The smile on his face was blindingly bright, his mouth stretched all the way to his ears, and he made no sound anymore. 

"Hey!" 

Maroni was splattered with pasta sauce as the man dove into the plate and was instantly furious. But before he could explode, a waiter in white approached his table, carrying a tray. 

"Would you like another drink, Mr. Maroni?" 

A mocking voice sounded by his ear. Maroni's attention was immediately drawn, and he turned to look. 

Dark green curly hair, skin as pale as a corpse, a sharp, thin nose bridge, two sharp, cruel eyebrows. His mouth was stretched into a grin that reached almost to his ears, shamelessly displaying a smile. 

It wasn't a warm smile. It was a chilling, creepy, cold smile. 

His gaze was like a cat watching a mouse, like a venomous snake watching a traveler. There was no humor inside, forming an abrupt and unsettling contrast with the wide smile on his face. 

Just looking at his face, Maroni instinctively felt a shiver of cold. Chaos and madness mixed with thick malice washed over him, actually causing a hint of fear in this crime boss who constantly walked the razor's edge. 

So, he used anger to mask his fear. 

"A clown." 

He judged the man before him condescendingly, an angry and arrogant look on his face. "No clown gets into my territory, and—" 

"Mine's bigger than yours, Maroni." 

A revolver, with a barrel as big as Maroni's forehead, pressed against his head, freezing his hand, which was reaching for his gun, mid-air. 

His eyes widened violently, looking at the other man's laughing mouth and casual eyes. At this moment, Maroni finally realized that this person was truly insane—he didn't care about the consequences of killing him, nor did he care how much power Maroni held. 

He truly didn't mind killing him. 

At this time, the clown spoke again, "Or perhaps, I should call you—the Holiday Killer?" 

Hearing such an outrageous accusation, Maroni immediately retorted subconsciously, "The Holiday Killer? Me?" 

"Of course! You're Gotham's second-in-command. Carmine Falcone, the Roman, is Gotham's 'number one'." 

"The Holiday Killer only slaughters the Roman's subordinates. So, you, of course, get the biggest benefit—" 

"No, wait, I swear on my mother's grave—" 

Flustered, Maroni was babbling now, losing all trace of a crime boss's demeanor and dignity. "In the end, it's all about business! The whole Holiday Killer thing is ruining everyone's business!" 

Upon hearing this, the Clown scratched his head in confusion. Then, he leaned his stark white face close to Maroni's, his eyes blinking blankly like a curious child, asking a question. 

"Then..." 

"Who is the Holiday Killer?"