Tim and Rachel happily chat in the private room, but no matter how much Tim tries to turn the conversation to the most critical question, the well-trained Rachel refuses to answer.

In order to avoid being discovered, Tim didn't ask any more questions. After a few glasses of high-end champagne, Tim finds an excuse to send Rachel away, and then embarks on an indoor adventure with half-truths.

He looked closely at the high-class room, and the door he had entered was not the same as the one Rachel had entered, indicating that the service staff and the guest were not going through the same passage. He walked over to the door where Rachel had left, twisted the doorknob a few times, and then gave up, the door had been locked from the inside.

He thought for a moment and left through the door where he had entered, but the seemingly long, deep hallway outside the door was empty. Tim thought about it, and as soon as he entered, a waiter greeted him and ushered him into the box. Except for a familiar guy he saw when he first entered the door, he had never seen a guest in this hallway. And this corridor is only one door in his private room.

"Humph! It's a place where Batman hasn't been able to beat it for so long, and the privacy is tight enough."

Tim was walking aimlessly down the hallway, he was coming from the right, so it would be a good idea to go to the left at this moment.

The hallway was long and deep, and the sound insulation was so good that Tim couldn't hear anything at all, and according to his guess, the long hallway separated by a wall was full of private rooms, but he couldn't hear anything, and the whole hallway could only hear his own footsteps.

Rachel's champagne tasted good and sweet, and wasn't as spicy as cocktails or other alcoholic beverages, which made Tim unconsciously drink it as a drink. But it is a wine after all, and it is the highest of the highest types of wine.

After walking for a while, Tim felt the soles of his feet start to shake a little, and he realized that he had drunk a little too much.

“.. This sucks."

It's best not to think about doing anything when you're drunk, because the last time he suffered for this reason, the big loss he suffered for this reason is still affecting his actions. Tim felt the soles of his feet shaking harder and harder, and he struggled to maintain his balance to look like a staggering drunk.

When the swaying body was about to lose his balance, a strong arm caught him, and with the support, Tim finally stabilized his body, and after a while, when the dizziness subsided, he had the energy to look at the person who was holding him.

The waiter's uniform wrapped tightly around the man's muscles, and he raised his head slightly to look up at the man, and the dim light in the hallway made it impossible for him to see his features. The clock environment seems to have been deliberately designed by the club so that even if you encounter it in the hallway, you won't be recognizable. The angular facial contours were the only thing Tim could see.

“... Forehead.... I can't find my room anymore."

Anyway, he was already drunk, so he just pretended to be drunk, and in order to prevent being interrogated, Tim simply hung on the waiter's body and preemptively said his confusion.

"I'll send you back"

A hand wrapped around Tim's waist to support his sliding body, but the cold tone made Tim wonder, wasn't he the waiter here? Judging by the voice, he is a very young man, probably in his twenties. Tim used his brain cells, which had not yet been anesthetized by alcohol, to analyze existing clues, while peeking at the man from his point of view, trying to see what he looked like.

"Mr. Timothy is already a little drunk, call the housekeeper at Wayne Manor"

As the words passed through the eardrums, which had been dulled by alcohol, and it took Tim a moment to realize that the man had not sent himself back to the private room at all, but had delivered him directly to the door, and had spoken it to the waiter who had picked him up.

He didn't quite know what a really drunk and irrational person would behave like, but he knew very well what would happen if Alfred knew he had stolen Dick's membership card and had come to the Violet Club and drank a whole bottle of high-count champagne.

But what should he do? Lying on the ground and pretending to be a complete drunk, trying to mess around, refusing to go back. It would have been useless, they would have been trying to coax him and then calling Bruce.

So just wait? But Tim really didn't want to face Alfred's caring eyes....

In the midst of such cranky thoughts, Alfred, who was extremely efficient, had already driven the Wayne family's exclusive luxury car into the secret parking lot of the Violet Club. This is the genius of the Violet Club, from entering to going out, there is never a public place for others to peek into the lifestyle of these upper class people, perfect privacy protection.

Tim was almost carried straight into the back seat of the car by the two waiters, and they would have told Alfred that he was drunk anyway, so he just pretended to be drunk, Tim thought to himself.

"Master Tim, what did you find?"

After the car drove some distance away from the club, Alfred, who was driving the car, suddenly asked in a loud voice. He knew every member of the family, and Tim couldn't have come to the club for no reason just to ask for a drink and to say that his rebellious time had come.

He may be drunk, but definitely not as drunk as he appears.

Hearing Alfred ask him, Tim knew he couldn't hide it, so he struggled to get out of the back seat despite the pain.

"You can lie down"

Alfred saw Tim's expression in the rearview mirror, and the two clumsy waiters must have pulled Tim's injured bones when they put him in the car again.

"If you look at the interior of this club, each box will have its own corridor leading to the outside, and there will definitely be connected public areas in these corridors, but these places are guarded by waiters, and these corridors are probably curved, and the dim light and unique decoration of the corridors can easily give the illusion that it looks like a long, straight corridor. The focus is on the passage of internal personnel, and from the general point of view, the area occupied by internal employees is probably much larger than that occupied by guests. Judging from the attitude of the guide, they didn't stay there simply because of profit, and it was likely that they were also threatened."

Tim spoke of his analysis, the few pieces of information he had gotten from Rachel to draw the conclusions so far, and his next focus should be to find a way to get into the employee tunnel.

Alfred listened quietly to Tim's analysis, and he was not surprised that the boy could piece together such a complete infographic with just a few fragments of information. He had found the boy in the Batcave with the help of the newspaper information, but he couldn't leave him alone to continue the rest of his adventure, for the sake of his unhealed bones.

"Master Tim, you've been drinking"

Alfred could tell if the smell of alcohol was coming from his body or if it was just spilling on his clothes. Tim's tone is full of a faint champagne scent, which is a very high-end aged champagne to have such a mellow aroma, and aging also means having a sufficient alcohol concentration.

“.. Forehead... Can you not tell Bruce? ”

Tim was poked in the spot, he did drink quite a bit of champagne. He didn't want to face Bruce's "caring" eyes.... That doesn't look much better than Batman's gaze.

"Absolutely"

Before Tim could breathe a sigh of relief, Alfred's answer continued:

"If you promise not to read any more reports and collect clues tonight, finish your dinner and go to bed at half past nine on time"

Alfred's request heard Tim's lips pout, and he knew it wasn't that easy.

"So that you can recover as soon as possible"

Alfred added later, suppressing all of Tim's complaints, the injured bones were causing him too much trouble, and his movements were affected by his bandaged body, and he knew that he couldn't do anything at his best.

“... Strange, I really didn't feel any pain at that time? What does alcohol do? ”

As Tim thought about the question, he suddenly remembered that the waiter he had met in the hallway who had brought him to the door had easily carried himself to the doorway by himself, and the hand supporting his body seemed to have cleverly avoided his injury..... Just a coincidence?