"I'm looking for Mr. Bruce Wayne."
It took a few seconds for the voice on the intercom to respond. "Come in, sir."
The gate opened slowly. Sebastian sighed and started walking. It was the same view as yesterday. The same neat path, the same perfectly manicured green lawns, the same classic car parked next to the stone rotunda that led to the main gate.
But this time he wasn't surprised. He didn't stop to contemplate. He simply continued walking, as if that beauty no longer held any power over him.
Standing in front of the entrance, he didn't need to knock. Just like last time, the door opened as soon as he stopped.
The same man greeted him. The same serene, imperturbable expression. The same eyes that had pierced him less than twenty-four hours ago.
Sebastian took a deep breath before speaking. "I'm here because Mr. Bruce Wayne invited me to a... meeting."
For a moment, a hint of surprise crossed Alfred's face. He didn't know. Bruce hadn't mentioned anything to him. But, like a good butler, he didn't let his bewilderment show.
He nodded elegantly. "Follow me."
The tour was different. This time there was no stop in the kitchen. They climbed stairs and walked through endless hallways, flanked by solemn portraits and antique furniture. Each piece looked like something out of a museum. Carved chairs, Persian rugs, display cases of silverware. Objects that would have been priceless treasures anywhere else, but here weren't much more valuable than a supermarket table.
Sebastian sighed silently. "Damn, exorbitant wealth…" he muttered softly to himself.
Finally, Alfred stopped in front of a door on the second floor. He turned his face, still calm, and knocked gently twice.
"Master Bruce, your… guest has arrived."
From the other end, after a few seconds of silence, a deep voice was heard. "Come in. Let him in."
Alfred opened the door and stepped aside, with an elegant gesture indicating the passage.
Sebastian swallowed. He took a deep breath, straightened his back, and took a step into the room where Bruce Wayne was waiting for him.
Entering the room, Sebastian paused for a second to observe.
The place was a spacious office, with dark wood paneling, shelves filled with leather-bound volumes, and glass cabinets displaying discreet but priceless pieces of art. A massive oak desk rested on a Persian rug next to two leather armchairs. A muted fireplace completed the atmosphere. The space smelled of old books, waxed wood, and pent-up power.
This time, it was him who interrupted. Quite the opposite of the night before.
Sitting behind his desk, Bruce Wayne looked up. A smile spread across his face. And to Sebastian's surprise, it seemed genuine.
"Sebastian, I'm delighted that you've decided to consider my invitation."
Sebastian nodded, walking up to him. He extended his hand at the same time Bruce did. "I didn't mean to be rude. After all, you went to all this trouble traveling at night, through such a… unique city, just to visit me."
The handshake was firm and measured. Bruce nodded just as politely. "Please sit down."
Sebastian let go of his hand and sat down in one of the armchairs in front of the desk.
"Would you like something to drink? Tea, coffee… even hot chocolate, if you prefer."
Sebastian settled in, knowing this meeting should be private. He nodded calmly. "I can't refuse, Mr. Wayne. I appreciate the invitation."
Bruce smiled slightly and turned to Alfred. "Please, Alfred. A cup of coffee like usual and…"
Sebastian interrupted, leaning forward slightly. "Tea. I woke up today wanting tea. I don't usually do it, but I feel a tingling sensation that makes me want to try it."
The corner of Bruce's lips lifted a little. "Okay, then one coffee… and two teas."
Alfred, always unflappable, inclined his head. "Two? Does Master Bruce think Young Master Richard will be joining the meeting? If so, I would recommend a coffee with milk and half a spoonful of sugar."
Bruce shook his head gently, a cryptic expression on his face. "Oh no. It won't be Richard who'll be joining."
Silence stretched for a moment. Alfred, sensing there was no answer to add, simply nodded. "Right away."
With the same elegance with which he had entered, he left the office, closing the door behind him.
After Alfred left, Bruce smiled again.
"You know, I apologize if I was somewhat intrusive during our… exchange yesterday. But I believe it was my duty to speak with you."
Sebastian responded with a calm smile as he settled into the armchair. "Oh, don't apologize. I saw the real Bruce Wayne yesterday."
Bruce raised an eyebrow. "True?"
Sebastian nodded. "That's right. Not the billionaire owner of Wayne Enterprises. Not the philanthropist who spends his fortune helping others. Not the playboy who appears in every newspaper every week with gossip and new relationships."
Bruce's smile curved ironically at the last part, but Sebastian continued unfazed. "I saw Bruce Wayne, the man who raised my… Alfred. The man Alfred looked after. Him being proud of how he grew up."
For the first time, the confident millionaire's facade faltered. It was only for a second, but long enough. Then Bruce composed his expression.
"Well, Mr. Pennyworth, let's stop talking about me. You won't be able to flatter me with your flattery. I've seen your record in the military. Quite impressive. At 24 years old, you already rose to the rank of captain in the Air Force, and were already being considered for a major. Truly a rare talent."
It was true. He had risen rapidly through the ranks. Before, he'd thought it was all down to his discipline and skill. But now…
"Well, you know, Master Wayne. It's true that in times of conflict only the best rise to high ranks. But in times of peace… they're just ranks you can buy."
Bruce remained silent.
Sebastian continued calmly, without raising his voice. "My entire military life, I'd thrown myself into battle as a soldier. It was normal. But when I reached the rank of officer, they increasingly insisted that I stay on base. That I transfer to intelligence, or to positions where my life wouldn't be in danger. I ignored them like cowardly fools."
Bruce sighed.
"But I realized that with each promotion, I was chained more and more to the base. I always struggled to get out into the field. And what was my surprise when, after discovering my… ancestry, I remembered that one of the military's largest contractors and sponsors was Wayne Enterprises."
Bruce, understanding where the conversation was heading, tried to intervene. "Sebastian…"
But he didn't let him continue.
"I also remembered the rumors about me. About someone in the higher-ups supporting me. Do you know how ridiculous it was to hear it? I, who mocked those who used their connections to rise… and it turned out I was just biting my own tail. My contempt and arrogance were foolish. I myself didn't have the skill I was supposed to have according to my rank."
Bruce watched him silently. Sebastian was different today than yesterday. He wasn't shouting. He wasn't angrily reproaching. He spoke with a dry weariness, with the weight of the truth.
Finally, Bruce sighed. "Yes. Maybe I was trying to support your growth. Maybe I was also trying to look after you, so that he could meet his son and not find out one day that he'd died on some anonymous battlefield. So that he'd be proud of you. But let me be clear: Alfred had nothing to do with it. I was the one who made that decision. And two… you didn't rise solely because of influence. That can only help someone who is already talented."
Sebastian stared at him, without responding.
"Even I was surprised by your rapid growth." Bruce lowered his voice slightly, sincere. "You have talent. And I apologize if you think I interfered with your military career. But I truly believe it would be a waste for you to squander your potential at the lower ranks."
Silence fell over them both. Two pairs of eyes met. One trying to convey sincerity. The other, wordlessly repeating: I don't believe it.
That silent duel was interrupted by the soft sound of the door opening. Alfred returned, carrying a perfectly balanced tray. Three steaming china cups rested on it.
The coffee and teas had arrived.
Alfred walked over to the table. With measured movements, he first poured coffee in front of Bruce, then tea in front of Sebastian, and finally another tea on the empty seat next to him, across from the desk.
In the center of the table, he placed a small plate of fine pastries. The reports and papers that had previously cluttered the desk now rested in a corner, neatly stacked. Alfred had moved them with the same hand that held the tray, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Sebastian clenched his jaw. Damn… it really is perfect.
"Master Bruce, will the person you're expecting be long? If so, may I recommend preparing another tea upon arrival, so that it retains its essence."
For a moment, the smile that formed on Bruce's face was almost magical. Like that of a mischievous child putting on a play with his toys. A smile that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
"Oh, Alfred, calm down. Also… I need you to help me remember something."
Alfred didn't answer. He stood there expectantly, as if the question was the only thing that mattered to him at that moment.
"Remind me," Bruce said, the fleeting smile returning, "according to the butler contract we signed, what is clause 23-B?"
Alfred responded almost immediately, mechanically, like someone reciting a memorized verse. "According to that clause, the employer can require the employee to take a mandatory leave of absence despite the employee's refusal, of at least…"
Alfred broke off. The trap became clear.
Bruce finished the sentence with a triumphant tone, albeit disguised as calm. "...at least twelve hours without the need for compulsory service. As long as the employer considers the matter serious enough."
Alfred turned his gaze towards him, serious.
"The severity will be decided at the discretion of the employer," Bruce concluded, dropping the words like a judge passing sentence.
He turned to Sebastian. "And in my opinion, a visit from a relative is a serious enough reason."
Then Alfred understood. The second cup of tea wasn't for Richard. The "other guest" at the gathering... was himself.