*Chapter 13: ?*

Cody looked up. A small restaurant, bright and clean, stood right in the middle of the street. Seeing that the place didn't seem very big, he felt a little relieved.

In Gotham, the bigger you are, the more fishy stuff is usually going on. If you're a smaller target, the less likely you are to stir up trouble.

"Just a heads-up, Donald isn't a simple guy. The less you talk, the less likely you are to tick him off."

"Is he tough?"

"At the very least, the people backing him up are definitely tough."

They exchanged a few brief sentences, and Cody's mind started wandering again. He thought about the small shops he'd occasionally pass on his way to and from school when he was a kid.

The shelves barely got restocked once a month, the staff were always glued to their phones, the service was totally half-assed, there were almost no customers, and sometimes they didn't even bother turning on the lights. But somehow, it just kept going, year after year, until Cody graduated, and it was still there, just fine. He never understood why it hadn't gone out of business.

If only this restaurant was as laid-back as those little shops.

However, as soon as he walked in, Cody's heart sank fast.

They went through the front door, walked a couple steps, and turned into a gray hallway. They were met by a pretty blonde receptionist. She seemed to have been expecting them from Donald's heads-up. She smiled and nodded in greeting, then led them through the hallway into the restaurant proper.

Cody didn't know much about restaurant layouts, but the artsy wallpaper on the hallway walls already gave him a slight sense of foreboding.

Walking into the main hall, what greeted his eyes were rows of beautiful, fancy wine cabinets, warm, soft, ambient lighting, simple, elegant wall patterns, lively, vibrant green plants, and well-dressed guests dining with impeccable manners.

"Classy. Holy crap, this is classy," he couldn't help but quietly curse. "This is what you called a small restaurant? Why isn't a place like this in the Diamond District? What's it doing here?"

"It's not like Otisburg doesn't have rich people. This place is specifically for the needs of certain big shots – don't worry about it so much. Just tell me if you want to make some money or not."

"......"

At this point, the female receptionist who had led them turned back and said, "Mr. Donald is waiting for you two. Please go directly up to his office to see him."

Well, it seemed no matter what Cody's answer was, at this point, based on the "since we're already here" principle, he had to go meet this Mr. Donald.

Drake gave him an "it'll be fine" look and led Cody towards the stairs nearby.

At the top of the stairs, burly guys in black stood lined up on both sides of the hallway, clearing the path. It was obvious that if they were unwelcome guests, their attitude wouldn't be so friendly right now.

Cody felt his scalp tingling. His judgment this time was way too damn reckless. This restaurant wasn't some inconspicuous little shop; it was a backdrop for a full-blown major event.

If it weren't for the fact that Donald's gun barrel was much closer than any major event right now, he would have turned around and bolted out of that restaurant already.

It took him several seconds to collect his scattered thoughts. Then he followed Drake into Donald's office.

A solid-looking middle-aged man with a steady demeanor sat in a chair wearing a high-end suit. Even from a distance, when he saw Drake, a faint smile appeared on his face, and he stood up and walked towards the two of them.

"Drake, haven't seen you in a few months. You look much better."

Drake had actually been suffering from months of anxiety and torment, but Donald wasn't wrong. Since last night, the immense weight on his shoulders had finally been lifted.

Although the deep dark circles under his eyes and his thin face couldn't improve overnight, his spirit was completely refreshed. Compared to before, you could say he was reborn.

"Yeah, I got lucky. My wife's finally gotten better – in a little while, I'm taking her away from this city and going back to my hometown."

Cody wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but he felt a trace of subtle envy and melancholy appear in Donald's eyes after he heard Drake's words.

"Being able to spend the rest of your life with your loved one, that's a rare kind of happiness, even in Metropolis. Congratulations, Drake."

"Nothing to be jealous of, just a broke guy. A rich guy like you, you can go wherever you want. The happiness you have is beyond what I can imagine."

"Me, huh..." Donald lowered his head and chuckled. "My folks were Gothamites, so I'm a Gothamite too... I'll just stay here, nowhere else."

Seeing the atmosphere getting a bit weird, Drake immediately pushed Cody forward. "This is my good friend, just arrived in Gotham. Like I said on the phone, he's new here, doesn't really get the city. What he learned back home isn't much use, so he came to me."

Donald looked up again. In just a moment, he was back to looking like a genuine Gothamite. His eyes became indifferent, and his face was expressionless. He examined Cody from head to toe. After a moment, he spoke.

"Education level?"

"College graduate ."

"?"

Let alone Donald, even Drake beside him couldn't help but glance at Cody. Cody's self-introduction was so underwhelming that Drake had assumed he just had a standard middle or high school education.

Seeing their expressions, Cody's face felt a little hot.

"Don't look at me. School's school, I'm me. The school might be good, but that doesn't mean I am."

Fair point.

"What can you do?"

"Back home, I made a living writing... uh... 'adult' novels, but that's no use in Gotham."

"?"

Drake couldn't help but look sideways again. You said you made a living writing stuff, and I naively didn't ask any more questions, thinking it was just regular articles or novels. Turns out you were waiting for me with this, huh?

What other tricks do you have up your sleeve that I don't know about?

"......Alright. Very honest."

"?"

This time it was Cody and Drake looking at Donald. Wait, are you serious? This kid writes erotica, and you're praising him?

"Know how to use a gun or a knife?"

"No, but I have one."

As Cody spoke, he reached down to pull out the gun from his waist, but the next second he suddenly realized that move looked really dangerous, so he put his hand back down.

"Alright. Not stupid."

Donald nodded. "How'd you get here today?"

"Took the bus."

"Got guts too. Luck's not bad – but you gotta learn to use a gun, or you won't last long in Gotham."

Watching Donald list off positive appraisals with a straight face, Cody, who had been ready to just give up and embrace the chaos, started to lose it a little.

Damn it, none of the people who do well in Gotham seem like normal human beings.