The cool morning breeze rustled the branches outside the window, while the orange hues of dawn filtered through layers of heavy curtains, illuminating the dim room within.
The bedroom door was knocked, and Schiller rolled over. The butler outside said, "Sir, a Mr. Gordon called you ten minutes ago. I told him you would return his call after you woke up."
Schiller's voice slowly quavered from his raspy throat "…Alright."
He sat up in bed, waking from his drowsy stupor. He then walked towards the window and with one hand drew back the curtain. He saw the milkman ringing the doorbell while perched on his bicycle. Someone quickly appeared, taking the milk jug from him.
This was a mansion located in the West District of Gotham. It was Schiller's new home in Gotham.
Although the faculty housing at Gotham University was not bad, it was indeed time that he bought a house of his own.
This was the old town section of Gotham City, unlike the rich area in the south. When European immigrants first came to the Americas, a group of English nobles established this district. Thus, the area is filled with traditional English manors. Later, because of shifting city planning and a more advantageous geographical location in the south, the rich relocated from the west to the south.
The old manors left behind here mostly carry a classical English vibe. However, the descendants of those nobles rarely continued to live here, resulting in many manors being left unoccupied. Schiller was able to purchase one of the best preserved manors, one with an interior decor style he liked, at a very reasonable price.
He didn't buy a house in the south's rich area, not because he couldn't afford it, but for a very practical reason - the mansions in the west were nearer to his workplace, Gotham University.
He would have had to drive a long way across almost half of Gotham City to work if he were to live in the rich district in the South.
The deadliest part was that he would have to cross the city center, which was always congested during the rush hour.
For this reason, no matter how luxurious the mansions in the south's area were, they weren't within Schiller's scope of choice. He wasn't Bruce Wayne, who could hop on a helicopter whenever there was a traffic jam. Schiller didn't want to spend most of his day commuting.
Choosing an old-fashioned manor in the West District had another advantage: there were fewer people around, making it relatively quieter. He wouldn't have to deal with the hustle and bustle of traffic early in the morning. Schiller could get a good sleep on his day off.
The most important factor was that the location was far from Wayne Manor and the mountains where Bruce planned to build the Batcave. Even if Batman were to get on the wrong side of The Joker one day, the range of damage wouldn't reach him here.
After a while, the butler came in, tied back the curtains, and said, "Breakfast is ready, sir."
Schiller nodded, accepting the eyeglass case from him. He put his glasses on, then glanced at his watch and asked, "When did Gordon call?"
"Around 25 minutes ago."
Schiller glanced at the outdoor scenery one last time and then headed downstairs for breakfast.
Moving down the wooden staircase, passing through a dim and shadowy hall, the dining room was situated at the far western end of the manor. It was a semi-circular dining hall with tall, arched windows adorned with dark green silk curtains. The silverware on the mahogany dining table glistened mysteriously under the soft morning light.
Dawn's light, filtering through the arch windows, fell on the dining table. The grid-shaped shadow of the windows contrasted with the round tableware in a captivating display of light and shadow. Schiller picked up the neatly pressed newspaper on his right.
The ink of the printed newspaper had slightly blurred. The headline read, "January 25, 1987, Overcast weather with expected rain in the afternoon. Gotham Daily."
Schiller scanned the newspaper for information he needed while having breakfast. The printed font was always tiny in newspapers of the era, and the ink often smudged, so he had to use a magnifying glass.
After a while, the butler came in and announced, "Mr. Gordon is here."
Schiller put down the magnifying glass and looked up. Gordon was wearing a brown trench coat and a beret. When he walked into the dining hall, the cold still clung to his body. Seeing Schiller reading the newspaper, Gordon asked, "Did you see the news today? The Godfather is angry. He refuses to allow Metropolis's boats to dock at the eastern port."
"I just got to that part." Schiller adjusted his glasses and said, "I stayed up late working on a paper last night, so I missed your call this morning."
Gordon loosened his trench coat while saying, "I didn't have any urgent matters. You know, my work recently hasn't been hectic. I just wanted to congratulate you on your housewarming, oh, right, I left my gift in the car…"
"No rush, have you had breakfast? Why not join me for a bit?"
Stripping off his coat and handing it to the butler, Gordon replied, "I already ate. I stopped by the office this morning. I brought that information you asked me for."
As he spoke, he lay a black briefcase down on the table and began to rummage through it, handing Schiller a folder.
"Thank you, even if you've had breakfast, you can still join me for a cup of warm milk." Schiller offered.
Gordon didn't refuse. He settled down at the dinner table and said, "When you said you were taking over Viscount Bernard's manor, I was a bit puzzled. After all, not many people are fond of these old-school manors nowadays."