"Therefore," Dick Grayson, dressed in a sleek and handsome police uniform, pulled a swivel chair and sat in front of the black-haired girl, "tell me about yourself?"

Seated opposite the swivel chair was a young girl who appeared no more than thirteen or fourteen years old, standing at about five feet tall. She had beautiful, satin-like black hair cascading down to her waist, slightly curled at the ends, slightly disheveled as she shrunk into the chair, highlighting her porcelain skin. Her deliberately averted shallow mint-green eyes resembled stained glass windows in a church, transparent yet tinged with a hint of confusion.

Dick, or Nightwing—possessing keen insight and intuition—didn't believe this little one was one of the common street urchins.

The black wool coat the girl wore didn't seem entirely suitable for her, appearing overly mature. However, it couldn't be deemed inappropriate either; it was clearly tailored and fit her well, making her look like a child who had gone missing from some affluent family. No labels, no phone, no identification of any kind, as if she had appeared out of thin air.

He had been busy tracking a murder case. Not that Dick was intentionally slacking off during work hours, but as soon as he pushed open the office door, he heard colleagues saying they found a girl outside the station who knew nothing, remembered nothing. His colleagues were at a loss, debating whether to send her to a welfare home or a custody facility.

Just as he passed by in the hallway, she clung to him as if he were a lifeline. When he met the bewildered gaze of the girl, he couldn't just walk away.

So Dick sighed, patting his colleague's shoulder, "Leave it to me."

"I'm Baia," the girl said softly, playing with her delicate fingers, dragging her words.

"Very well," Dick muttered, jotting down the name, which sounded Spanish. "At least we have a name. And then?"

Baia said, "That's it."

"That's it? Can't you remember your last name, or any contact information for your family?"

Baia pursed her lips, not intentionally trying to appear slow, but because she genuinely didn't know what to say. Her memories were vague and chaotic, as if she vaguely knew this wasn't her world, but strictly speaking, she didn't remember anything substantial.

"Sorry, I..." she fell silent for a moment, her voice dwindling as she couldn't focus her gaze on the handsome young police officer in front of her, looking out the window beyond Grayson's shoulder. Her memories seemed to be separated by a frosted glass, waving her hand, vaguely able to see outlines, but unable to recall anything substantive. But something seemed to have been added to her mind...

This girl might have some cognitive impairment. Dick observed Baia's performance closely, a hint of sympathy appearing in the blue eyes of the officer. Even if Baia seemed lost for the moment, Dick had no intention of getting angry.

"Hey?" he gently pulled Baia out of her own world, "Are you okay?"

"I don't remember. I'm sorry, Officer Grayson," Baia shook her head gently.

Dick put down his pen, "Relax, Baia, you don't need to apologize for this. Do you remember anything at all? Just tell me."

Baia just shook her head.

"If that's the case," Dick rubbed his forehead, somewhat helpless, "we can only temporarily—"

Even though he emphasized "temporarily," she immediately interrupted him gently, "No."

Afraid that the officer in front of her wouldn't understand her meaning, Baia emphasized again, "No. I'm not an orphan."

"Okay, kid, you just don't remember," Dick wanted to ask more questions, but at that moment, a colleague opened the door and informed him that the medical examiner had new results. So he glanced at Baia, "If you're willing, you can stay here and try to remember until I finish work."

"I will, thank you," she was very obedient, tilting her head slightly to look at him, like a lost puppy chasing after a car.

I've gotten myself into trouble, Dick thought, but it's a cute kind of trouble.

Baia couldn't be described as particularly beautiful. Walking down the street, she wouldn't be the most eye-catching one. But there seemed to be a particularly comforting aura about her, like the younger sister of a neighbor you've known since childhood; a bit reclusive, but familiar. You know her, but you don't understand her: those green eyes seemed to hint at some secret, but it wouldn't harm you, and you were intimate to some extent. Most importantly, you knew she would listen to you.

He left Baia in the care of his female colleague, reassured, and returned to his busy and tense work.

At noon, Dick returned.

"I thought there weren't any girls so quiet in the world," the female colleague said worriedly to him, "She hardly moves, slept on the desk for a while, played some word games. Most of the time, she's just staring blankly, hardly asking any questions. When I took her out to eat, she didn't even glance around. You know, girls her age don't usually act like this, not even well-mannered ones, so..."

"If I find her guardian, I'll suggest they get her timely medical attention," Dick understood what she meant.

After idling away a few hours, Baia felt exhausted, her spirits nowhere near as high as when she first met Officer Grayson during the day.

She tried to wipe away the frosted glass covering her memories but couldn't manage it. Perhaps she should give up this attempt. At the same time, she felt very tired, as if something was constantly draining her energy, causing her a splitting headache. She couldn't think straight, but when Grayson called her, she obediently went to him.

Dick patted her head and softly asked, "Are you okay? If you're not feeling well, just tell me."

"I'm fine now," Baia first comforted him in turn before truthfully answering. The detective's touch made her feel comfortable. "I'm trying to remember something, but every time I do, my head hurts. I just can't..."

She trailed off, suddenly forgetting where she was in her speech, and took a while to regain her train of thought. "I can't concentrate. I feel like there's something in my head, like... like my brain's memory is full, and I can't run any other programs right now."

"Then let's not think about it for now," Dick said gently. "Everything will be okay."

Time didn't stop because of Baia's confusion, and she quickly gave up trying to recall the past or think about her current situation. It wasn't something she could do right now. Finding a comfortable position, she lay down on Dick's desk. Fatigue immediately engulfed her, and when her eyelashes, as light as feathers, touched her lower eyelids, she seemed to faintly hear a voice.

The voice said:

System loading progress: 50%.

Maybe Tim could check on this girl's condition tonight, Dick thought. Surveillance, plane tickets, fingerprints—there must be some clues to unravel the mystery surrounding her. It wouldn't be too difficult; he gently placed his hand on the girl's frail shoulder to wake her up.

"I promise," he looked into her eyes, "you won't stay in the foster home for too long. Trust me, okay?"

Baia blinked, her confused mind coupled with just waking up made her subconsciously nod at first, then quickly shake her head.

Dick sighed, looking at her disapprovingly. Not every stray child willingly went to such places, but they always found ways to get these children there. His eyes clearly said: constant head shaking won't help.

"I wish someone could help me," Baia thought. She didn't want to be abandoned.

As it turned out, refusing to walk was useless. The consequence was that Dick sighed loudly and then picked her up. Baia was small in stature and very light, making Dick feel like he was carrying a cat. He didn't want to hand her over to someone else, but the fact was that, due to various reasons, children who lost parental care were common in Blüdhaven and Gotham, and welfare homes or custody facilities were their best options.

Wait a minute. There was a voice in her head.

"Wait," Baia said, grabbing Dick's sleeve.

The voice quickly rattled off an address. Without thinking, Baia repeated the address to Dick.

The little girl spoke too quickly and softly, as if she lacked persuasiveness. Dick put her down and blinked, "Are you sure you didn't just make that up on the spot?"

Baia nodded firmly. Although she wasn't sure if it was an illusion, she said it wasn't, so it wasn't. In fact, that illusion became even more prominent; she heard the bustling noise in her mind, as if she were in a busy market, and one voice was particularly clear:

It said: System loading progress: 70%.

Dick was half-believing, half-doubting, but still said gently, "Okay, maybe we can go together and see what this address means to you."

This address was in Gotham.

Oh, Gotham. Dick thought, suddenly not so surprised.

As Dick kept his promise and took the girl to the address she mentioned, the sun was hanging precariously low on the horizon, and the heavy night sky was pressing down with swirling stars. Dick drove very smoothly, only the low hum of the engine gently vibrating Baia's thoughts.

She felt tired, her head nodding off bit by bit, until she fell asleep against the car window. In her dreams, a slightly mechanical voice murmured.

"..."

"System loading progress: 99%"

"System loading progress: 100%"

It was like someone whispering in her mind, the faint voice growing louder and clearer, vibrating on the horizon, becoming more and more like a roar, an illusion of being struck by giant waves, Baia could hardly breathe.

After the roar, everything suddenly fell silent.

The tumult ended with a crisp "ding" sound, and she woke up abruptly.

Her back was tightly against the car seat, her body soaked in cold sweat, one hand gripping the handle on the inside of the car door, struggling to control her breathing.

"Are you okay?" Dick noticed her dilated pupils, worriedly considering pulling over.

It took Baia some time to find her voice, like a fish out of water finally returning to the sea, she emerged from that drowsy feeling, and everything around her, her senses, her thoughts, became pleasantly clear.

"I'm fine, actually I feel... I'm fine now."

"Can you remember what happened before?"

"No... not really. But at least I can think clearly now."

So she wasn't like that all the time. Dick interpreted this as the end of her episode; he could see that animal-like confusion and docility fading from Baia's eyes, making her look more like a normal girl, but still very obedient.

The roadside trees outside the car window receded at a leisurely pace, the neon lights on the tall buildings stretched into dazzling streaks, they had arrived in Gotham, swept into the city of sin by the flow of traffic on the viaduct. Gothic-style buildings cast black shadows one after another, the city monorail shuttling through them with a graceful arc, and the car window lights dragged long golden streaks in the accelerating motion.

"We're almost there," Dick said, "Since you don't remember anything, welcome to Gotham."