"So… there really is no way?"
Reed returned to the top of the Thomas Bridge, his car humming softly as he parked and stared at the Gotham skyline.
His conversation with the Falcone family had ended.
The answer had been clear.
Out of gratitude to Thomas Wayne, the Falcone family was willing to help Wayne Enterprises resist outside pressures—such as the other three families that made up Gotham's Four Families along with the Waynes.
But when it came to internal matters within Wayne Enterprises, they refused to intervene. At least not until the dust had settled. Until the outcome was certain.
Reed wasn't sure what the Falcons truly knew. Perhaps the other Gotham families were also exerting pressure. Or maybe it was the Court of Owls—that elusive organization even Reed barely understood.
But their stance was obvious.
They could do nothing more.
And if even the Falcones couldn't help, then Reed, in the Gotham he himself had summoned, was utterly alone.
"I've never seen a transmigrator with such a bad starting hand. Even with a system, and still this useless. Guess I'll head back to Wayne Manor."
Reed had more or less expected this. The moment he realized he couldn't directly control Gotham's inhabitants, he knew he would have to act himself.
He didn't know exactly how the real Alfred had managed to protect the Wayne legacy during Bruce's seven-year absence in the comics. He wasn't one of those fans who read every single issue. But after hearing both Earl's and Falcone's positions, he'd come up with a plan. One that would either break the deadlock or cost him everything.
If he won, the situation would flip. If he lost, he might as well delete his save and start over.
"But the guest should be here soon."
Now calm, Reed began to tap into the intellect of the Alfred he was portraying—the version who was nearly as sharp as Batman and the Joker. The Alfred who once pretended to be the Joker and played the Dark Knight game with Bruce Wayne.
Reflecting on everything he'd experienced since arriving in the Marvel Universe, Reed knew he would need two things to break this stalemate: a guest, and a change—within himself.
"And that guest… should have arrived by now."
...
Sure enough, when Reed pulled back into Wayne Manor, he spotted the visitor waiting at the gate.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
There was no way anyone from inside Gotham would come visit Wayne Manor during such uncertain times—not when only a butler remained. The only possibility was that this visitor had come from outside Gotham and had a connection to Alfred.
"Good evening, sir. May I ask what brings you here?"
Reed didn't reveal the man's identity. He played the role of a proper butler and walked up, maintaining perfect decorum.
Across from him, Tony Stark stared at the elder gentleman, comparing him to the photo he had. After a moment, he confirmed this was the man he was looking for.
"Hello, Mr. Alfred. Tell me, have you ever thought about changing jobs?"
"Excuse me?"
Tony's unexpected line completely shattered the mood Reed had been building. The mysterious, weighty atmosphere fell apart like shattered glass.
...
Inside Wayne Manor, Tony let out a long, heavy sigh.
"I didn't expect Mr. Alfred to be so loyal to the Wayne family. But do you really believe that young master Wayne will come back?"
It had taken Reed a while to convince Tony that he had no intention of leaving the Waynes. At least, not Alfred. As for Reed himself, the future remained uncertain.
When Tony questioned whether Bruce Wayne would ever return, Reed—whether speaking from his character's role or his own confidence—had only one answer.
"Of course. I've always believed in the young master."
"Ding! Congratulations, host. Your persona level has increased to 40%. As a reward, the system has personally delivered this notification."
The system's voice rang in Reed's ear, but by now, he was used to it. Even if the system suddenly claimed it had a stomachache last night, Reed wouldn't bat an eye.
On the other side, realizing that Alfred wouldn't be lured away by money and wouldn't become the Stark family's butler, Tony finally got to the point.
"Mr. Alfred, can you tell me who attacked my parents? Even if you don't know the name or organization, a description would help."
Now, if Reed were to reveal the truth about the Winter Soldier, he could immediately win Tony's support. With the strength of Stark Industries backing him, stabilizing Wayne Enterprises would become a breeze.
While outside forces would normally have a hard time entering Gotham, with Reed guiding the way, things would be different.
But Reed had no intention of revealing the truth so easily.
Giving Tony just a physical description might earn his help—but not his gratitude.
And help without gratitude was dangerous. Even if Stark's resources temporarily propped up Wayne Enterprises, it would be on Stark's terms. Before long, Wayne Enterprises might be rebranded as "Stark Gotham Branch."
The better option was not to hand Tony the truth, but to guide him toward reconciliation with his father. Let Howard be the one to tell him. Only that way could Reed build a genuine alliance with Tony Stark. Only then could he trust Tony enough to pin the hopes of his character mission on him.
With that in mind, Reed spoke in the calm, reassuring tone Alfred was known for.
"Your father likely doesn't want you to have that answer."
Before Reed had even finished, Tony slammed his fist onto the nearby table.
"There it is again! Why does everyone care what that bastard wants? My mother is dead! I want revenge—what's wrong with that?!"
He glared furiously at Reed, suddenly finding this elderly gentleman as frustrating as Howard himself.
"It's clear you loved your mother deeply."
"Of course! My mother—"
Tony's voice faltered as Reed interrupted softly.
"Then tell me—do you believe your father didn't love her?"
Tony froze.
Reed pressed on.
"You may say your father didn't love you. That's your right, and your feeling. But look inward, remember what you've seen—do you truly believe your father didn't love your mother?"
Alfred's words stirred long-buried memories in Tony's heart.
Memories he had tried to forget because of his father's cold, harsh treatment.
But now, they rose up one after another.
He remembered being very young—before he had proven himself a genius. His father holding him in one arm and wrapping the other around his mother, smiling for the camera.
The image changed.
The flames of trauma consumed the scene.
What came next were Howard's devastated eyes when he saw Tony at the hospital—his silence when Tony mentioned Maria.
That sorrow. That grief.
It wasn't fake.