[English] [DC-Batman] Claire - Bonus Chapter 9. The Third Birthday Wish

Jason stood by the table.

After a brief silence, he still spoke up.

“Aren’t we eating the cake?”

His tone was completely normal.

As if this was the most logical next step.

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Claire heard that and instinctively let her gaze drift to the side—

just in time to meet the eyes of the other person involved in what had just happened.

At the exact same moment, he glanced at her too.

Their eyes met briefly—

then both looked away.

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The awkwardness didn’t disappear.

It became even more obvious.

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Claire stood there, her mind racing.

She needed a way to deal with this atmosphere.

Something that could reasonably shift everyone’s attention.

The next second—

a thought surfaced.

Alcohol.

Right.

She had just bought drinks.

And if she had already bought them—

why not drink them?

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She didn’t hesitate.

She moved.

Her cheeks were still flushed from earlier, but she walked straight to the fridge, pulled out the beers one by one, and set them all on the table with quick, decisive movements—almost more forceful than necessary.

Then she grabbed one, popped it open.

The crisp sound of the tab echoed lightly in the room.

And without hesitation—she took a long drink.

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That first sip felt like flipping a switch.

Like she had regained a bit of control.

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Her movements became more decisive.

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She stepped up to the ugly lamb cake, picked up a knife, and without the slightest hesitation, brought it down.

Hard.

Almost with emotion behind it.

She cut straight through, cleanly dividing the entire lamb into three sections.

She didn’t care about the shape.

Didn’t care about how it looked.

Using a large plate, she portioned out the cake like she was distributing some kind of spoils, handing pieces to the other two.

She kept the head for herself.

Then she stood by the table—

taking a bite of cake, then a sip of beer—

eating like that, back and forth.

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The scene became… strange.

The two men stood nearby, watching her.

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Their gazes met briefly in midair.

No words.

But they both understood—

what they should be worried about now was no longer that earlier, unsettling sadness—

but the birthday girl in front of them,

who was very clearly starting to lose control.

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By the time Claire had eaten half the cake and finished two cans of beer, her cheeks were flushed far beyond anything that could be explained as accidental.

Her gaze had started to drift.

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Dick watched her for a moment and quickly came to a conclusion—

this couldn’t continue.

He stepped forward.

Just as she was about to reach for a third can, he raised a hand and stopped her.

His tone was no longer light.

There was a clear note of restraint in it as he tried to persuade her to go rest.

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Claire resisted at first.

She frowned slightly, like she still wanted to argue—

but her reaction was already a beat too slow.

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Dick didn’t give her much room to choose.

He reached out, lifted her up in a bridal carry—decisive, firm, leaving no space for refusal—

and turned, heading upstairs.

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The lighting in the stairwell was softer than downstairs.

Dick carried her up step by step, his footing steady.

Robin was left behind, dealing with the mess below.

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Halfway up—

Dick suddenly felt something was off.

He lowered his gaze.

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Claire was looking at him.

Her eyes open.

And in them—

there was moisture.

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Tears slipped down from the corners of her eyes.

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Dick’s movement faltered slightly.

An unfamiliar urgency rose in his chest.

He lowered his voice.

“Why are you crying all of a sudden? Are you feeling unwell?”

The concern in his tone was sharper than he expected.

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Claire shook her head.

Her voice was soft.

Lightly slurred with alcohol—but clear.

She said,

“Nightwing… what do I do? I really like today… but I really don’t like every day.”

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The sentence didn’t sound logical.

But Dick understood.

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She wasn’t talking about what had happened today.

She was talking about all the days she had been trapped in.

The ones only she remembered.

The repetition.

Every day the same.

Every day starting over.

No exit.

No end.

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That kind of exhaustion wasn’t just being tired.

It was something that slowly wore a person down.

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Dick tried to imagine it.

And the thought alone was enough to make it feel unbearable.

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He didn’t say anything else.

He simply kept walking, carrying her upstairs.

When he pushed the door open and stepped into her room, he noticed it had started raining outside.

Raindrops struck the window and frame hard, the sound steady and insistent against the glass.

He stepped inside and gently set her down on the bed.

The mattress gave softly under her weight.

Dick reached for the tissue box on the bedside table and, with careful movements, wiped the tears from her face.

The tears made her golden-brown eyes look brighter—

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As he wiped them away, he said quietly,

“Don’t be afraid. I’ll stay with you.”

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He didn’t say “we.”

He didn’t include Batman.

Didn’t include Robin.

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He said—

“I.”

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Just—

him.

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Claire looked at him.

She didn’t look away.

There was something in her gaze—like she was trying to memorize it, carving his words into her mind piece by piece, afraid that the next time she woke up, she would forget.

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Dick looked at her reddened eyes.

He fell silent for a moment.

As if making a decision.

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Then he spoke.

“Claire.”

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She froze slightly at being called by name.

A hint of confusion flickered in her eyes.

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Dick met her gaze.

And said, plainly—

“Claire, when the loop ends… let’s date.”

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She stared at him.

Her whole body felt pinned in place, like she couldn’t move.

Her mind—completely unable to process what he had just said.

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She couldn’t even tell what category this moment belonged to.

Was it the alcohol making her hallucinate?

Or had the absurdity of the entire day finally pushed her past some limit—

to the point where reality itself no longer felt reliable?

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Her breath caught.

Her eyes didn’t move.

She just kept staring at him, searching his expression—

as if trying to find a flaw, something that would prove this was nothing more than something her mind had fabricated.

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Her brows knit slightly.

Her voice carried a trace of something she couldn’t quite suppress—

a faint choke.

“Don’t you… already have someone you like?”

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It didn’t sound like a simple question.

There was hesitation in it.

Unease.

Like she had already believed in a certain answer—

and was only asking to confirm it one more time.

Dick froze.

Almost instinctively, he replied, his tone sharp and confused—

“Who said that?”

His expression showed no preparation at all, like the question had landed completely outside anything he had anticipated.

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Claire sniffed lightly, her eyes still damp.

She didn’t go around it.

“Robin said it.”

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That answer made Dick pause.

Completely.

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He instinctively started replaying everything that had happened today.

From when they met.

To the supermarket.

To the cake.

To every single detail downstairs just now—

scene after scene flashing through his mind.

But none of it matched.

There had been no such conversation.

No hint of anything like it.

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Which left only one possibility—

this had happened on another day.

A day that had already repeated.

A day that would leave no trace.

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And of course—

he wouldn’t remember it.

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Dick’s brows drew together slightly.

He needed more information.

So he looked at Claire, his tone slowing just a little as he asked,

“What exactly did Robin say?”

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Claire lowered her gaze for a moment, sniffing again, as if piecing the words back together.

“He said… you and Dick Grayson are romantic rivals.”

The room fell silent.

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A string of question marks exploded in Dick’s mind.

Almost instinctively, Dick began piecing together the conditions under which that conversation could have happened.

In what situation would Little Wing say something like that to Claire?

Was he joking?

Testing her?

Or just talking nonsense?

No matter which it was—

the conclusion was equally absurd.

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He couldn’t help thinking—

why would Little Wing spread a rumor like that?

Wasn’t that just creating trouble for himself?

If someone took that kind of statement seriously, it would practically be sabotaging someone else’s—

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His thoughts stopped.

Then he looked at Claire.

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She was still watching him.

Her gaze carried that same direct expectation—

like she was waiting for an answer.

One that would either let her feel at ease—

or completely disappointed.

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Dick didn’t let the silence stretch any longer.

He spoke.

His tone clear.

Direct.

“No. I don’t have someone I secretly like. That’s a misunderstanding on Robin’s part. Don’t believe him.”

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He didn’t look away.

He held her gaze.

His voice lowered slightly.

“I’m serious.”

The words weren’t drawn out.

Not emphasized.

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Then he added,

“But I might forget. So you have to come find me—or I’ll remember and come find you.”

He said it without hesitation.

As if he had already accepted the premise—

that tomorrow everything would reset.

That he wouldn’t remember this moment.

But that didn’t change the choice he was making now.

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Claire still didn’t move.

She just looked at him.

That look in her eyes slowly shifted—

from shock—

into something close to stubborn verification.

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It was as if she was checking the scene over and over again, waiting for it to collapse in the next second.

Waiting for him to smile like it was a joke.

Or suddenly take it back.

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But Dick didn’t.

He simply sat there.

Letting her look.

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And she began to doubt.

Was this a hallucination?

Had she become so tired—

so desperate for someone to walk her out of this loop—

that her mind had created this moment?

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Dick watched that disbelief on her face.

He let out a soft sigh.

Not out of impatience—

but more like fine, then I’ll have to make this clearer.

He didn’t say anything else.

He simply leaned forward.

The distance between them closed in an instant—

and his lips touched hers.

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The movement was gentle.

But real—

so real there was no room for ambiguity.

In that moment, every doubt about whether this was real disappeared.

Because the sensation was unmistakable.

The warmth.

The closeness.

The pause.

All of it told her—

this wasn’t something her mind had made up.

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Day 201 of knowing each other.

This was their second kiss.

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Outside, Jason—who had originally come upstairs to check on things—remained hidden in the shadows.

He rolled his eyes.

Then let out a quiet sigh.

“…Happy birthday, Claire.”

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After Leila and Nora finished listening to the whole story, they exchanged a glance. Neither of them spoke right away.

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Dick, who didn’t remember any of it—yet had somehow, naturally, ended up in a relationship with Claire—also fell silent.

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And on the other side—Jason, who had likewise forgotten everything, yet vaguely felt that his younger self had once been dragged into something strange—perhaps even becoming part of some kind of “romantic sequence” between them—the former Robin, now a crime boss—also said nothing.

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The rest of the Batfamily fell silent as well.

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It wasn’t planned.

But it happened all at once.

Like something invisible had pressed down over the entire space, holding everything still for a brief moment.

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After a while, Leila seemed to remember something.

Her expression shifted slightly.

She reached out and nudged the small doll on the table forward, turning it to face Claire.

Then, through that clear, steady voice, she asked,

“So… the reason you ask for an ugly lamb cake every year for your birthday—is because of this?”

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She remembered it.

Jason had mentioned it before.

He had even shown her the photos Dick sent—those oddly shaped cakes that were somehow unforgettable.

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Claire nodded first.

The motion was natural.

Then she gave a small shrug, her tone carrying a hint of resigned lightness.

“Yeah. But if I make it myself, it never turns out ugly enough. You really need those two for that.”

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She said it casually.

Like it was nothing more than an ordinary fact.

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“….”Dick and Jason both fell silent at the same time.

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But almost in that exact moment—they each made a decision.

This year—they would make the cake together for Claire.

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<<Extra Chapter – The Third Birthday Wish End>>

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