*Chapter 18: Turning Red, Turning Red*

Actually, Cody could somewhat understand his colleagues' fear of this customer.

Like they said before, Gotham has a Black Knight, often seen as a costumed freak or some kind of urban legend. But there's also a White Knight, and he's not a tall tale or a ghostly illusion. He's real, and he's absolutely ruthless.

Harvey Dent, Gotham City's District Attorney. If you had to name the folks in Gotham genuinely committed to upholding justice right now, there were probably only three: a bat, a commissioner, and finally, the White Knight standing right there.

This trinity worked together: one handled the job of fighting violence with violence in the dark of night, one was in charge of busting criminals and bringing them into the police station in full public view, and finally, Harvey Dent was responsible for prosecuting them relentlessly, making sure those scumbags got the sentences they deserved.

Because Harvey Dent was so incredibly determined and sharp, big and small gangs throughout Gotham now knew the name of this D.A. who couldn't be bought or swayed. He had dirt on all of them, had sent several gang members away, and while they were constantly butting heads with him, there was also a touch of respect mixed in.

In Gotham, countless people wanted to be good, but very few could actually withstand the heavy punches of reality and stick with it.

But here's the thing, Cody was damn scared of him too!

The White Knight was the brightest thing when he was a symbol of hope, but once he fell into darkness, he became the most twisted and fractured existence.

You guys are scared of Harvey Dent? What about me? Am I not scared of Two-Face? Am I even your colleague or what?!

"Mr. Dent, good to see you. Please, right this way."

Harvey Dent nodded at him, his sharp eyes lingering on his face for a few seconds before suddenly asking, "I noticed your smile seems a little stiff. Are you not feeling well? Or are you maybe a little nervous?"

"No, no, I'm perfectly fine. I'm just... very passionate about my job, so I'm a little excited, hahaha."

Cody tried desperately to make his smile look natural, just to avoid making an impression on this future supervillain.

"Oh, really?" He smiled meaningfully. "I thought maybe you guys weren't too fond of me."

"How could you say that? Red Dragon genuinely welcomes every guest who comes through our doors. It's an honor to serve you, hahaha."

I'm such an idiot, seriously. I only knew that very few superheroes were rich, and the rich ones wouldn't come here anyway. I didn't realize Harvey Dent also had this annoying habit of getting in people's faces.

If he wasn't here today to subtly mock the Falcone family and fish for information, you can write my name, Cody, backward.

Looking at Harvey Dent's bright, sharp eyes, Cody felt a little tense.

Hopefully, when he turns into Two-Face, he won't remember me. Otherwise, if he just flips a coin, heads means he's a 'superman' today, tails means he's a 'superman' tomorrow... won't I get super-punched no matter what?

By the way, is there gonna be a fight later? Probably not, right?

"Okay, bring me the menu then. A few scumbags got locked up in the police station yesterday, so I'm in a good mood and have a good appetite today. I'm just trying to figure out how many years I should prosecute them for."

"Ah, well..."

Cody handed over the menu and stole a glance back. In the crowd, several faces were turning red at a speed visible to the naked eye. This gave him a subtle, ominous feeling.

Don't mess with me, man.

"Those scumbags, they're just like rats—have you ever seen a whole swarm of rats?" He flipped through the menu, looking like he wasn't quite finished talking, and spoke with apparent interest, "I've seen plenty. The big ones are really sneaky, they hide in their holes during the day and don't come out. They only dare to come out and bite at night."

This time, about half the people were turning red.

Stop talking, stop talking! Cody was trembling with fear. Keep going, and everyone will turn red.

"But, rats in the gutter don't have any loyalty or sense of family. And the small ones are all stupid. Catch a few, and you can lead the rest of the whole nest out."

They're all red now, hahahaha.

Cody desperately scanned the surrounding environment for somewhere to take cover and carefully felt the Beretta under his suit jacket.

If a fight breaks out later, please don't let any blood splatter on me.

Fortunately, after Harvey Dent finished ordering, he didn't continue to torment Cody. He just casually asked some questions about the food and wine, which were clearly explained in the guide.

The red wine in a place like this was mostly about selling a story. For a bottle of a specific year and brand of red wine, its region, grape type, the weather that year, the history of the winery, the unique flavor notes in the wine, and so on, were all meticulously recorded in that thick guide. No matter how interesting the story, it just became capital for selling it at a high price.

It's just that with dozens of wines, there were naturally dozens of stories. Instead of testing the wine, it was testing the person. Being able to remember all of these and fluently introduce them to the guests was where a veteran waiter's composure came from.

As for observing and dealing with customers, Cody originally planned to temporarily rely on projecting confidence to muddle through, but today, running into Harvey saved him that effort. Most of the time, Harvey was using the opportunity of talking to Cody to provoke the other gang members.

Cody nervously served the dishes one by one, seeing his colleagues reaching for their waists under their jackets several times, only to be restrained by others.

"Ding, ding, ding—"

The phone suddenly rang, interrupting the good mood Harvey was in. He quickly answered the call, said a couple of things, and then paid the bill and left the restaurant directly.

Cody was bewildered, not understanding what had happened, but his first small tip, along with an asset point, was indeed in his hand, which made him quite happy.

The restaurant staff also seemed relieved. If Harvey Dent had stayed any longer, they might not have been able to control their anger.

Who knows why Harvey Dent was so good at timing? He had made the reservation for today just a few days ago, and Maroni's men just happened to be put in the police station yesterday.

If this was a coincidence, if it just happened to line up like that, then Cody was truly incredibly lucky.

Thankfully, the subsequent guests were normal people, and the manager's judgment about Cody wasn't wrong. His appearance and demeanor did manage to cover up a lot of his rookie awkwardness.

Hundreds of different kinds of upper-class people came and went through the restaurant. Cody served one after another, which was a real eye-opener.

Whether they were picky and demanding elites, short-tempered middle-aged folks, arrogant snobs, or loudmouthed fools, his colleagues could handle them with ease. And their main job was even being gangsters; being waiters was just a side gig. This made Cody couldn't help but call them pros.

But he wasn't without his contributions. He was in charge of serving the short-tempered middle-aged guest, and just by showing his face, the lady's anger completely vanished.

Maybe he was just naturally cut out for this job.