Episode 3. Phantom Thief (3)
[Mission Updated]
Meanwhile, in the middle of another part of the snowfield, someone pushed themselves up from the ground. Even though they had touched the snow with their bare hands, there wasn't the slightest sign of them feeling the cold. The person brushed the snow off their hands and read the notification displayed in the upper right corner.
[RESERVE]
Find Aiden Oliver.
It was a mission alert that looked much the same no matter what game you played. But the one right in front of them had a title and content unlike anything they'd seen before.
"……?"
Peering out through the rags, their eyes scanned the surroundings. Normally, when the game started, you were supposed to wake up in a cave, but this place was nothing but endless snowfields—impossible to pinpoint without a map. Where was Aiden, who was supposed to have lit a bonfire nearby? Where was the cave, the game's starting point? And why did the mission want them to find him?
"Something fun cropped up while I was away……."
Well, it was a game. No point sitting around pondering glitches like this. Accepting the mission and progressing was the obvious way to advance the story.
The player looked up at the pitch-black sky, let out a sigh that formed a puff of breath, and slowly broke into a smile.
"Haven't done this in a while. Hope it's fun."
And with that, the game began.
"Anyway."
The infiltration had gone off without a hitch—no one even suspected them. At this rate, they could meet the phantom thief without starting any fights with the other bandits, just as planned.
"Where do we go?"
"You're supposed to lead me, mister. Why are you asking me?"
The problem was that neither of them knew where the phantom thief was.
From what the guarding bandit had said, it seemed the thief pretty much lived in one spot, but that didn't help if they didn't know where.
"Should we just check every tent and building one by one? There are tons here."
"No choice."
"Why are there so many things we have no choice about, mister?"
In the end, Aiden and Claire wandered around, poking into tents scattered throughout the ruins for what felt like ages.
"Mister, mister."
"Yes, Claire."
They worried about drawing suspicion from the bandits milling about, but fortunately, no one paid them any mind.
"If things get dicey later, you'll help, right?"
"I'll make sure it doesn't come to that."
To be precise, it wasn't that no one paid attention—it was that no one seemed fully compos mentis.
"…Just say you will, even if it's only words. You're not gonna ditch me if it's dangerous."
"Alright. It was my call to keep our numbers low."
"Yay, I'll hold you to it."
Even when they bumped into someone, the person would just shuffle past with sleepy eyes—nothing like the rowdy crowd at the entrance.
"Everyone looks exhausted. The early hour?"
"Normally, they'd rotate shifts before it got this bad."
"Hmm……."
Claire rubbed her eyes as if she were sleepy too.
"We snuck in to investigate freely, but at this rate, it'll take all day."
"……."
"If we run into that guy from earlier, shouldn't we prep an excuse? We're obviously gonna get lost wandering like this."
"……."
"Can't you hear me?"
Claire glanced up at Aiden, who wasn't responding. He'd been good about humoring her so far—was he already bored?
Following his gaze, she saw a building ahead.
"Whatcha looking at?"
"…Ah."
Tap. Tap.
Aiden finally reacted only after Claire touched it herself.
He'd flinched when she did, so he'd clearly been lost in whatever he was seeing, deaf to everything else.
"What do you call this?"
"……?"
"Feels like I've seen this place before."
Aiden felt an eerie familiarity here. A déja vu, as if he'd scoured every one of the countless tents in these ruins more times than seemed possible.
No, it's not that I've seen it before.
Soon, the 'déja vu' crystallized into certainty, and now it bordered on hallucination.
Aiden heard his own voice in his ears. Words of him calling to someone as they combed the ruins. He couldn't make out the name, but the situation was clear enough.
This wasn't auditory hallucination—it was a memory from when he'd reached this place with someone.
Whoooosh…….
Then, phantoms of countless figures appeared before Aiden. Dozens of them, each moving differently, searching the tents here. All with Aiden's face.
They really do all sorts….
The moment Aiden fully registered the hallucinations with his eyes and ears, the memory playback kicked into high gear.
Aiden Oliver had searched this abandoned outpost with ■■■■■■■■.
Aiden Oliver had found the story-critical location and reached it.
Aiden Oliver had comforted a self-blaming ■■.
Aiden Oliver had spotted an ambushing monster and begun combat.
Aiden Oliver had been struck down by ■■■■■'s opportunistic attack.
All those memories materialized as phantoms before Aiden's eyes.
Players…!
Aiden squeezed his eyes shut and clamped his hands over his ears to endure the onslaught of sudden hallucinations, but it was futile. Looking down with eyes closed didn't dispel them, and grimacing with blocked ears didn't muffle the sounds.
His head throbbed. It felt like blood was trickling from his ears and eyes. Even standing still, his limbs seemed to move on their own; even silent, his mouth felt like it was forming words.
Amid it all, the word player echoed in his mind.
"…Mister? What are you…."
Claire's faint voice pierced through the cacophony, but he couldn't make out the words. Still, Aiden latched onto that sliver of sound. Focusing on it amid the hallucinations, he called her name, desperate to escape this cursed world.
"Claire……."
"…Mister."
His efforts worked—Claire's voice grew clearer. The hallucinations faded. He could focus on her words at last.
"…You okay? What're you doing, walking while clutching your head like that…."
When the voices fully subsided and Aiden opened his eyes, Claire stood before him. It hadn't been long since they met, but her face was a welcome sight now.
"I was walking?"
"Yeah, all the way here, ignoring me the whole time. Senile already? Knew you were old."
"…Sorry."
Aiden wanted to explain what happened but held back. Saying he'd seen hallucinations wouldn't help, and he didn't even understand it himself.
"Whatever. As long as we didn't get caught."
Fortunately, Claire let it slide and instead eyed the building Aiden had wandered to in his daze.
It wasn't one of the bandits' tents but part of the ruins proper—the only structure still intact amid the collapses.
"Start here?"
"Uh, yeah—wait, yes. Tents seem pointless anyway."
"Got it. You know better than me, mister."
Claire approached the building and opened the door. The sturdy iron gate swung open smoothly, welcoming them.
The interior looked bright at a glance—likely bandits had placed torches and lamps for exploration.
"Kinda empty."
Claire sounded disappointed as she stepped inside. For such a large space, there wasn't much: a lone wooden crate, shards of broken glass on the floor. It looked like excavators had finished and thieves had already looted.
"…Hold on."
But Aiden stopped her, staring ahead.
A building at the ruins' heart. A massive door etched with a magic circle. But what truly caught Aiden's eye was….
"New 'face'."
A man in black robes and a masquerade mask sat there. The quest target the village hoped would vanish—the phantom thief.
"You two, I'm talking to you."
Shockingly, he identified the masked pair instantly and grinned from atop the crate, as if he'd been waiting.
Damn.
The situation had escalated too abruptly. They'd come seeking the thief, but not like this.
"Of all the…."
"Busted. You were confident enough to come this far, right, mister?"
"No……."
Not at all. Assassination was an option, but surely not.
"Kidding."
"……."
"Handle it properly, mister."
Claire stepped forward. Hiding their faces was pointless now; being upfront wouldn't worsen things.
"Help if I get in a bind later, okay?"
"…Sure."
"Good. I heard that."
Claire quickened her pace. She raised a hand hidden in her robe, fiddled with her mask, then smiled.
"How'd you know? I wasn't even talking, figured my acting sucked."
"Report came in about an injured guy coming back, and you two look different. I know the ones I hired and drag around."
"Gasp, thought you were clueless."
"Weirdos."
The thief smirked, stood, and approached. Even through the mask, his grin was visible. Wand in one hand, dagger in the other.
"Was thinking of quitting the greed and leaving, but you showed up late. Now we're both annoyed."
"Aw."
Claire removed her mask and drew a short staff from her robe. The fallen mask split in two under the staff's tip.
"Got a cool nickname, but holing up here tormenting idiots? Too much. Made my life harder."
"Why care? It's not like I did it. Can't stop folks wanting to stir trouble when bored."
"Ha."
What good words from a stranger criminal? But this answer was galling. Toying with a tiny village that'd panic over one thief.
Well, absent some 'by the way' excuse, there was no reason to bother it.
"Talking big like it's not your mess?"
But it grated surprisingly.
"That's me."
"Ha."
She'd thought tagging along made her nosy, but Claire advanced first. She was that pissed—wanted to punch him at least once.
A river in parched earth, an ace for lost hands.
A line from the book suddenly in her hand glowed quietly then vanished. Aiden, the petty thief, all onlookers—they had no idea what it was.
"What's that book? Looks like something you snuck from your parents."
"This? Kinda… like a prayer book. Muttering lines I like today, hoping things go well."
She planted her foot, ran clumsily without technique—just ordinary steps, relying purely on magic to tail him.
"No need to say more, right?"
"……!"
Kreeeak…….
The thief parried the rear attack with his dagger, turning. A short dagger—but surely no dagger in the woman's hand.
Just the weird book and staff….
"Not just a staff—a cane sword. Kinda versatile."
"……."
Cane sword. A staff hiding a short, thin blade inside. Unfaithful to its purpose, made and favored by oddballs.
It now aimed for the thief's throat.
After blocking, he saw the little nun straining against his strength—but that alone irked him. Those pale, sheltered hands defying him?
"Close combat really isn't my style."
Yellow light gleamed in the thief's eyes. His form blurred, then melted into shadow.
Claire staggered briefly, regained balance, scanned around, and clicked her tongue.
"Tch, trouble. Mis—"
"Claire?"
Claire's voice distorted, then vanished. He could see her at a distance, mouth moving as if speaking, but no sound.
Instead, false senses intruded over real ones.
This damn….
The surroundings grew noisy unbidden; legs seemed to move without intent. Hallucinations were easy, but they invaded his eyes too, defying logic.
Claire, who'd advanced, was back beside him for some reason. The thief's shadowy form loomed closer, hazy black.
Here—the source of the illusion.
Wait.
Isn't that obvious?
"Found you."
Aiden seized the head of Claire beside him—no, the illusion. Staring it down, gripping it.
"…Huh?"
The phantom reverted: sky-blue eyes scanning turned to black staring back; staff-sword to featureless blade.
Just like that, the illusion shattered.
"Not this. No way."
The thief's panicked expression came fully into view. Hadn't expected this?
Truth be told, Aiden hadn't either.
Thud!!
A slightly unnatural sound—like something harder than a head hitting the floor.
Glancing down confirmed it: the thief had vanished again.
"Tch."
Aiden shook off his left hand in disgust. If even that was illusion, no complaints—but the unease hit only at the end.
Might've slipped away using the distraction after taking a hit.
"Claire?"
Calling her name and scanning, he saw her at a distance, talking normally now. No sound, unfortunately.
"Said you don't like straight fights, huh."
Aiden mulled the thief's pre-illusion words. After that brag? Messing with senses instead of drawing weapons.
Any spectator would call this boring.
"I kinda prefer it."
Definitely.
