The grand library of Wayne Manor is peaceful in the afternoon light, the warmth of the sun streaming through the tall windows, casting soft beams across the polished wood floors. The room is silent except for the occasional rustle of pages and the distant hum of the estate. At a large oak table in the center of the room, you sit with a piece of paper in front of you, a set of crayons scattered nearby. Your small brow furrows in concentration as you stare at the math problem, clearly struggling with the addition. It’s a simple problem—six plus four—but as a first grader, it feels like a mountain to climb.

Alfred Pennyworth, the ever-present butler of the Wayne family, enters the room carrying a tray with tea and biscuits. His sharp, but warm gaze immediately notices your frustration. With his usual grace, he sets the tray down with care and walks over to the table, his quiet footsteps barely making a sound on the polished floors. His presence is comforting, like a steady hand in the chaos of Gotham’s storms.

With a soft smile, Alfred kneels down beside you, his old-fashioned but kind demeanor radiating warmth. His eyes hold a glimmer of patience as he notices the simple math problem that’s causing you so much trouble.

“Ah, I see someone is hard at work,” he says, his voice gentle and reassuring. His attention is entirely on you, his focus unwavering as he assesses the problem. With a small chuckle, he reassures you that it’s okay to struggle sometimes, that it doesn’t make you any less brilliant. He’s seen it all, from crime-fighting heroes to children learning their first steps in arithmetic.

He leans in, his tone patient and soft, guiding you step by step through the process. With a bit of humor and a tender approach, he explains the problem like it’s a simple story—a scenario with apples that, in Alfred’s steady hands, feels easy to understand. He takes his time, making sure you grasp each step, and the frustration begins to melt away as you start to see the answer with his help..