Chapter 742 Gotham 1990_1

The early spring in Gotham was far from gentle compared to the open fields. Despite being the season of sprouting life, the city was still occasionally swept by cold winds each night.

However, the sound of the wind outside the window was drowned out by the roaring flames in the fireplace. Merkel, chilled by the cold, had just retrieved more firewood from the warehouse and replenished the fireplace.

The flames cast long shadows of him. In the unlit hall, the outlines of each piece of furniture, flickering in the light of the fire, were merely discernible.

Footsteps echoed from the stairway. As Merkel rose and turned around, he briskly walked towards Shiller, who had just descended the stairs. He reached for a coat from a nearby rack. After Shiller put on his coat, he picked up a black umbrella from the stand.

Merkel glanced at his watch and said, "Sir, the opera isn't until nine tonight. Are you meeting someone beforehand?"

"Yeah, someone invited me to dinner at a restaurant near the theatre. They called me at school directly, so you wouldn't know," Shiller adjusted his tie in the mirror while Merkel dusted off the hem of his coat. "Seems like a modern gentleman. He didn't bother calling here, he reached out to you at school."

"Indeed, after all, it is 1990. A new year brings new customs and many old ways should retire."

Upon finishing his statement, Shiller exited the front door and got into his ride. Through the car window, he observed the unusual prosperity along the way. The once-declining West Zone Manor District was once again ablaze with lights.

As Gotham's logistics industry was thriving, corresponding services were also constantly evolving. The catering industry in the East District was booming, especially these boutique local restaurants. Despite being modest and somewhat shabby, they were popular among the dock workers and lorry drivers.

Each restaurant near the logistics hub shared some common characteristics. They may not use the best ingredients, but they ensured generous servings and unique flavors. If a restaurant's name was passed on among drivers, workers, and builders, it didn't need to worry about its business.

While Shiller was on his way to the restaurant near the theatre, Cobblepot was also on his way from the North District to East District, preparing for the opening of the Iceberg Restaurant.

Prior to deciding he would open a restaurant, he conducted extensive research, which was why he chose the East District as his location.

Most of the restaurants here satisfied the criterion mentioned earlier. Sitting in the car and looking out the window, he noticed the roads here were still a bit run-down. Compared to the regained prosperity of the West District, this area didn't have any luxurious Gothic entrances, fancy fonts, French restaurant signs, or waiters in shiny leather shoes.

Cobblepot noticed none of these restaurants had proper storefronts. Most of them were remodeled from the ground floors of residential buildings, with a small round window for serving food and a wooden door. Above the door hung a sign indicating what they specialized in.

Neither lamb chops nor Italian desserts were popular here. As the vehicle slowly progressed into the busiest commercial street, the most popular restaurant there was called "Anderson Old Street Steakhouse".

The steaks here were not those high-end ones presented on exquisite porcelain plates, cut open to reveal a faintly red inside juicing up. Cobblepot, who had investigated the merchants and the procurement channels, knew very well that Anderson, that old rogue, would never spend money on good beef. He would only buy the cheapest kind.

People didn't savor these steaks for their original flavors. The most famous dish here was the Old Street Secret Recipe Steak, drenched with a bowl of chili sauce. Anderson's secret chili sauce was his lifeline here.

The tiny steakhouse didn't have more than ten tables, all of which were currently occupied. Several others were squatting outside, eating heartily.

Due to Gotham's perennial cold and damp climate, spicy food was much welcomed. Cobblepot capitalized on this preference by hiring a Mexican to tailor-make his chili sauce. Also, people engaging in physical labor always craved substantial amounts of protein and carbs — the bigger and thicker the steak, the better. If they could also have some gravy to dip their bread in, that would be fantastic.

Looking back at his own restaurant's menu, Cobblepot hadn't forgotten to place a large thick-cut steak with bread as the first main course.

As the vehicle dashed past, the bell sounded a "dingling". Cobblepot looked out of the right car window. A dozen children were gathered outside a bakery. Some were moving boxes, some were packing bread, and others were counting milk bottles.

Cobblepot once did such work himself when his mother had just been admitted to the mental hospital. Of course, he'd delivered bread and milk not just for money, but more importantly, to familiarize himself with the patterns of those vendors.

Harboring tremendous ambition in his heart, he hoped these children could be utilized by him. And indeed, he finally managed to do this. He was now the bona fide King of Children in Gotham.

It might not sound like a mighty title, but locals in Gotham knew whoever held the title was bound to have a stable status in Gotham's upper circle, even more than anyone else.