Barbara slowly walked toward the left wall of the basement, raising her hand to touch the cold surface. Her eyes were focused, her expression thoughtful.
"If I remember correctly," she murmured, "based on the structure and floor area of this mansion… there should still be unused space here."
She leaned closer.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Bang. Bang.
Barbara pressed her ear to the wall and began knocking with her knuckles. As she moved her hand along the surface, the sound changed slightly at one specific point.
Her eyes narrowed.
"This sound… just as I thought."
At that moment, she was certain.
There was a hidden space behind this wall.
A secret room.
Barbara straightened slowly, her gaze turning sharp.
"Why would Dean build a secret room in his own basement?"
A faint, complicated light flashed through her eyes as she began searching for the mechanism.
"Judging by the structure, this kind of hidden room isn't very complex," she reasoned. "The switch shouldn't be far."
She aligned herself with the spot where the sound had changed and carefully ran her fingers along the wall, inch by inch.
Minutes passed.
Then—
Click.
Barbara froze.
Her finger had pressed into something slightly recessed.
With a soft mechanical sound, the section she touched sank inward.
The wall trembled.
A low rumble followed as the wall slowly split apart, sliding to both sides and revealing a narrow passage—just wide enough for one person to enter.
Beyond it was complete darkness.
Barbara stared at the opening calmly.
"Tsk. An old-fashioned design," she said lightly. "But that makes things easier for me."
She stepped forward, turned on her flashlight, and walked inside.
Then—
Her pupils contracted violently.
"What…?!"
---
Meanwhile – Wayne Manor
Inside the elegant yet restrained dining room, Dean, Dick, and Alfred sat together at a long table.
The dishes laid out before them were exquisite—many of them so refined that Dean couldn't even name them.
Still, he ate with genuine enjoyment.
It had to be said—the food of the wealthy truly was different.
"How is it, Mr. Thurston?" Alfred asked kindly. "Is the meal to your liking?"
Dean wiped his mouth with a napkin and nodded sincerely.
"It's incredible. You're the most skilled chef I've ever met, Mr. Pennyworth. To be honest, I'm even starting to think about hiring a butler myself."
He smiled slightly.
"Though my house is nowhere near as large as Wayne Manor. I barely manage it on my own."
"You flatter me," Alfred replied modestly. Then, after a brief pause, he added, "I hope you don't mind me saying this, but the value of a butler goes beyond managing a household."
"He can also be someone who stays with you—someone you can trust like family."
Dean paused.
Then nodded.
"I agree. It's clear that you're not just a servant to the Wayne Family—you're family."
A thought quietly formed in his mind.
Perhaps… I really should find a helper.
"I'm full," Dick suddenly said, setting down his knife and fork.
He looked at the other two. "Are you done as well? Dean, when can we start arranging the magic lessons?"
Dean placed his own utensils down and looked at Dick seriously.
"I know you're eager," he said, "but don't rush."
"Before I teach you anything, I need to ask you a few questions. The answers will decide what kind of magic I teach you—and how effective it will be."
As he spoke calmly, Dean's thoughts were elsewhere.
It's been nearly three hours since school ended.
Dick hasn't asked me a single suspicious question.
No probing. No testing. No slip-ups.
Right now, Dick looked exactly like a normal teenager—a boy who genuinely wanted to learn magic to impress girls.
Something felt wrong.
This doesn't fit Robin at all.
He and Batgirl already suspect me. There's no way they would do nothing.
Then—
Dean's heart skipped.
Batgirl.
He had been focusing too much on Dick.
If Dick wasn't questioning him…
Then that meant Dick's job wasn't to investigate.
It was to delay.
And if Batgirl wasn't here—
She could only be in one place.
At that moment, everything clicked.
"So that's it," Dean thought calmly. "That's why Dick suddenly invited me here."
"To keep me occupied… while Batgirl searches my house."
But Dean didn't panic.
Because he had already prepared for this possibility.
A faint smile passed through his eyes.
"Barbara Gordon," he thought, "can you really see the truth behind the illusion?"
---
At the Same Time – Thurston Mansion, Basement Secret Room
The secret room wasn't large.
Dust coated the floor and furniture thickly. From its condition, it was clear that no one had entered for at least half a year.
Inside were old wardrobes.
A dressing table.
Faded furniture from another time.
Clearly, none of this was for daily use.
Barbara stepped forward slowly.
On the dressing table, there were no cosmetics.
Instead, there was a single black-and-white photograph, standing upright.
A couple smiled gently at the camera.
Below it were the words:
"Dear Parents."
Barbara's breath caught.
She looked up.
Several framed portraits of the same couple were hung neatly on the walls.
In that instant, her expression changed completely.
Solemn.
Relieved.
And faintly… guilty.
She understood immediately.
These were Dean's parents' belongings.
Things left behind after their deaths.
Barbara wasn't surprised.
She had seen far more extreme cases.
For some people, keeping such items in plain sight was unbearable. Seeing them every day could reopen wounds that never truly healed.
Creating a hidden room—visiting it once a year, or once every six months—was a way to grieve without drowning in grief.
In fact, it was healthy.
Barbara lowered her head and looked at the footprints in the dust.
Only one set.
Her own.
She let out a quiet sigh.
"…I really was wrong."
She straightened slowly.
"Kaito Kid… shouldn't be Dean."
Silence filled the room.
Barbara stood there, surrounded by memories that weren't hers.
Then she exhaled softly.
"Now," she muttered, "I need to figure out how to clean up the mess I just made."
Because some truths, once uncovered—
Could not be taken back.
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