Gloomy, damp, and decaying, the rainwater reflecting the cold streetlights formed a fine mesh, converging toward the light source into a lifeless pallor. The windows next to the streetlights were tightly sealed, with horizontal traces of battering and scratching etched across the striped wooden grilles.
A rat scurried across the window sill, stood on the edge, and shook its whiskers as its black beady eyes glittered with a strange light. Its wet body began to twitch when suddenly it opened its mouth wide and spat out a few strands of black mucus.
A cigarette butt fell onto the mucus, the already faint glow instantly extinguished. Two pale fingers pinched the end of the cigarette butt and lifted it, with a bit of mucus still clinging to the ash, up to the eyes, and blinked a pair of deep brown eyes.
The cigarette butt was tossed back to where it came from while the poor rat continued to convulse and vomit until a dagger ended its agony. The man wearing black gloves pulled the dagger stained with rat blood, cleaned it under running water from a drainpipe, and wrapped it up again.
He tilted his head, and a big smile appeared under his hat. With fingers clad in black leather gloves, he pressed on his lips and whispered in the quiet alley.
"It seems you've run into some trouble."
In another corner of the city, the scene was utterly different, with brilliantly lit buildings. Valets moved systematically between cars, their gleaming shoes reflecting their neat suits. A receptionist with fiery red curls smiled as she bade farewell to a guest who had just checked in, then hit the bell, and a tall Black man came out, wearing a namebadge with golden trim, clearly the manager of the place.
He was tall and thin with hollow cheeks, and his brown eyes were prominent yet spirited. As he walked out from the entrance, the receptionist looked back helplessly with her hands on her hips, saying, "I've said before that the electronic booking system is unreliable; we've overbooked the rooms again. Looks like there won't be any standard rooms for the next five or six guests."
"Ask proactively if they're willing to upgrade." The manager seemed accustomed to handling such matters. He said, "Be polite, smile, and most importantly, emphasize to them that the difference in room rates is at least 500 US dollars. Not only can they get a room upgrade for free this time, but they can even get points."
"That's the only option left," said the receptionist as she turned back and stamped her foot lightly, adding, "So many places have closed down."
With a slightly displeased look, the manager glanced at her but turned to walk away. Then, as if he remembered something, he turned his head back and asked, "Has room 1905 been booked?"
Checking the booking records, the receptionist said, "Not yet, it seems some maintenance staff marked there's an issue with the room, either a leaking bathtub or an air conditioner not working?"
"It's probably the toilet that's the issue," the manager stated. "Be careful when upgrading, don't book that room."
"Don't worry," the receptionist turned, smiled at him, and said: "A toilet is a big problem, we need to get someone to fix it as soon as possible."
With a nod, the manager entered the room and closed the door behind him without looking back, as the receptionist stood up straight to serve the next guest.
The bright hotel lobby was filled with shifting lights and shadows, and the gently pushed revolving door seemed to stir up a storm like butterfly wings. A figure in a long overcoat entered; he did not pause, but stowed his umbrella in a nearby stand and taking off his hat, strode toward the reception.
"The rain is really coming down, Miss," remarked the man, holding his hat at his chest and asking, "May I book a room?"
The receptionist sized the man up. With their sharp eyes in this line of work, she instantly recognized the high quality of his overcoat's fabric and European craftsmanship. His heavy British accent suggested maybe an Oxford twang.
He carried a briefcase that did not seem heavy, likely containing books or similar items. His fingers were slender and long, unaccustomed to hard labor, yet there was a worn spot on the middle finger of his left hand, signaling a habitual left-handed pen user.
He seemed to be a scholar from Europe, the receptionist assumed. So, with a smile, she nodded to the man, saying, "Of course, sir. The rain is indeed heavy, but at the Wayne Hotel, you will certainly enjoy the most comfortable rest. Let me check which rooms are still available. Do you have any specific requirements?"
"In fact, I have a personal preference for higher floors, so if there's a room on the 15th floor or above that would be great, but not higher than the 20th floor," the man said with a smile.
The old-world guest sure was picky, the receptionist thought resignedly. Her gaze fell again upon his clear brown eyes that seemed to hold infinite mysteries. For a moment, she was entranced, only snapping out of it when he spoke up.
Embarrassed, the receptionist quickly flipped through the reservation book and said, "Sorry, sir, I might be a bit tired. Let me just check between the 15th and 20th floors..."
"Goodness, all the rooms there have been booked. Maybe you would consider the 21st floor instead? We can offer you a complimentary upgrade. If you choose to stay in a standard room, we can upgrade you to a deluxe room at no additional cost and you can even accumulate points."
The man frowned slightly and said, "I don't really like the number 21. Could you please check again, are the 18th and 19th floors completely booked?"
After more checking, the receptionist shook her head and said, "I'm really sorry, sir. They are indeed fully booked."
He sighed and said, "Well, it seems I'll have to find another place then, hopefully, there are still hotels open at this hour."
After saying this, he seemed a bit distressed, glancing at the heavy rain outside, but the receptionist gently shook her head and said, "You're not from around here, are you?"
"Yes, I flew into Metropolis and took a train to Gotham, it's just my luck to arrive in the rain," he replied.
"You might not be aware, but due to certain reasons, most hotels in the city are closed, and only this one is still open. I think you would not be comfortable in those dark little inns," said the receptionist, intending to keep the guest, as he didn't seem like the typical hurried businessman and might stay for a few days, bringing good revenue for the hotel.
"I see," said the man. "But it seems you're not very busy," he observed.
The front desk showed a somewhat helpless smile and said, "Not many people go out in this kind of weather, and many are even stranded at airports and train stations."
"Unfortunately, all the rooms are fully booked." The man shook his head, "I can only go out and try my luck."
"Are you sure you won't consider a room on a lower or a higher floor?" the front desk asked, trying to retain him.
Seeing the man shake his head, the front desk hesitated, bit her lip, gathered her hair, and then said, "Please wait a moment, I need to discuss something with the manager, perhaps we can still find you a vacant room."
The front desk went inside for a while, and soon the tall, thin black manager came out, he subtly sized up Shiller, then said, "We do have one room left, sir, the number is 1905, but the trouble is, there is a little problem with this room."
"What problem?"
"The toilet's drainage system might be somewhat broken," the manager said. "When flushing, water might occasionally spray out, which could dirty the floor, and we have not found a repairman yet, so perhaps..."
"When is the earliest you can find a repairman?"
"I will call first thing tomorrow morning," the manager said. "If the traffic isn't too bad, maybe before ten o'clock."
After a short hesitation, the man nodded and said, "Then I'll take that one, I'll be careful when using it."
"I'm truly sorry, sir, but for safety reasons..."
"I understand, I'm neither a kid who likes to play with water nor an elderly person prone to falling. Knowing there may be water on the floor, I'll be extra careful, and I won't cause any trouble for the hotel if something happens, I can assure you."
The manager observed the man closely once more, seemingly convinced by his promise, then said, "Alright, sir, the rain is really too heavy, please process this gentleman's check-in."
The front desk immediately nodded at the man, who took out his driver's license and a business card. After the front desk took the card, she saw a name written in cursive English on it—"Naog Sokhup."
Beneath it was a line that read, "Historian and Folklore Researcher, Honorary Fellow at All Souls College, Oxford University."
The front desk lifted her eyelids slightly, and while writing in the book, casually passed the business card to the manager, who looked surprised as he raised an eyebrow. He pocketed the card and smiled at the man saying, "I apologize for any rudeness, Doctor, I hope you won't mind."
Sophop shook his head and said, "I've been on the road all day and just want to rest as soon as possible."
"This is your room card." The front desk handed the card to Sophop, and the manager personally led him to the elevator.
With a ding, the elevator doors opened, and as they were about to step in, they realized someone was coming out. He seemed rather panicked, nearly tripped over the carpet at the door, and Sophop stabilized him, noticing his left pupil was blinking with light as he looked down.
"I want to check out, I want to check out!" The man in the suit ran to the front desk frantically and said, "I'm in 1906, I want to check out now!"
Without paying attention, the two entered the elevator. As the elevator ascended, the manager finally spoke, "The electrical wiring on the 19th floor always seems to have some issues, but with the rain so heavy, we can't do any repairs. This might cause some inconvenience to the guests, but hopefully, we can still make amends."
Sophop looked at his reflection in the elevator mirror and gently made the sign of the cross in front of his chest, saying, "May God bless them."
"Excuse me, are you a believer?" the manager asked, turning his head.
"Yes, a Catholic, and I've also served as a bishop in the Canterbury Diocese for a while."
The manager widened his eyes in astonishment and said, "The Canterbury Diocese? That's a place that can be mentioned in the same breath as the Westminster Diocese. You were a bishop there?"
"Yes, with the Grace Council, but it was only for a short time," Sophop replied.
The manager had more to say, but the elevator dinged and the doors opened, revealing the sign for the 19th floor to the two of them. This time Sophop was the first to step out, and the manager pointed him in a direction.
They turned right, walked straight to the end, to the last door where 1905 was written. To the right were 1906 and subsequent rooms in descending order, closer to the elevator.
He used the card to open the door, and a perfectly normal hotel suite appeared. Featuring a living room with floor-to-ceiling windows, and turning right led to a bedroom with luxurious and lavish decoration, the dim lighting made it look very comfortable.
Sophop stepped inside and said to the manager standing at the door, "Thank you very much, if the repairman comes, please call me."
"I will, sir. I wish you a good night's sleep."