Episode 3. Phantom Thief (2)
The sole surviving thief rolled across the snowfield. Around him lay things that could no longer be called 'friends,' and soon the remaining thieves would meet the same end.
“Ugh. Uh……!”
The thief dragged his cleanly severed leg, driven purely by survival instinct. He'd dropped his weapon, and for some reason, his magic wouldn't activate. He knew fleeing like this offered no real chance of survival, but he couldn't let go of his obsession.
As long as I stay alive. The leg could be healed by scraping together money to hire a nun.
So—
“Can I ask you something?”
But Aiden had no intention of letting him go. From the start, in a situation where he could have ended it instantly, he'd spared him as a valuable source of information.
“Spare me. Please…….”
“Hey now.”
Aiden rummaged in his pocket for a dagger, but the one he always carried was missing. Ah, right—he must have broken it sometime ago and tossed it. He'd meant to replace it but completely forgotten.
“Can you calm down?”
Instead, Aiden formed ice from his fingertips, shaping it into a thin, sharp dagger. Surprisingly, it was lethal enough.
“I want to get into your hideout. What's the best way? Use your head.”
“Th-that… w-wait, give me a second to think…….”
“And take off that creepy mask.”
Gripping it and pulling, the mask came off easily. Perfect timing—the distorted voice had been grating, and now his normal one came through clearly. Not bad.
“You look like you can't think of anything. Need a hand?”
“No. No. Wait. You—er, sir. Your build's about my size. How about pretending to be me?”
“You telling me to get caught and killed?”
The thief shook his head frantically.
“N-no, that's not it. You can pull it off! We all hide our faces and voices. So if you play it right…….”
“But they'd still tell each other apart, right?”
“Usually by numbers. Engraved on the masks and robes…….”
“Hm.”
Intrigued, Aiden examined the black mask in his hand. Looking closer, there it was: '12' etched in.
Suddenly it looked ridiculously tacky. He'd assumed it was just plain.
“Th-the numbers don't mean anything special. Just name tags. Looks like you had another with you. Swap clothes with someone their size…….”
Spilling it all without prompting. Amusing sight. Money-bound ties, no doubt. Knowing abandonment meant death, he was playing maximally helpful. So cooperative—Aiden might've let him go for a decent idea.
“Too much hassle. No side paths?”
“Damn it, I've said plenty! I'm gonna die here! I'll tell you anything—just spare me!!”
“Yeah?”
The man screamed with desperate effort. Still bleeding out, terror-stricken. Aiden could've coaxed silence and more talk, but he wouldn't last long anyway.
“Then that's enough.”
“...Huh?”
If he was fading, time to end it. Aiden stabbed his throat without a flicker of expression and stood.
Just info to ease the job—no need wasting more time or tools.
As Aiden rose, Claire—who'd been waiting—approached.
“What'd you chat about with a dying guy? Your face was terrifying.”
“Asked for directions.”
“Who asks for directions like that?”
“...Told him to make himself useful if he didn't wanna die.”
“But he's dead.”
“Wasn't useful.”
“Poor guy.”
Teasing? Aiden thought so, but her tone held no mockery. Maybe just her style.
“Ah, Claire.”
“Yeees?”
“Can you act?”
“...Act?”
Aiden relayed the thief's info verbatim. Thieves hid identities, distinguished by numbers. No special criteria for assignment, so matching builds for disguise should work. On paper, that was it.
“Mm.”
“What do you think?”
“Really don't wanna.”
“Same.”
Aiden nodded in agreement. Normally, for this, you'd charge killing all or sneak undetected—far simpler. Impersonating? A pain.
“But you know?”
“What?”
“Gotta do it anyway.”
Claire went quiet. They'd agreed, so why the push?
“Not confident.”
“No choice.”
“Then why ask?!”
“Formality...?”
The nun eyed him, wondering tease or serious. She'd pegged Aiden as humorless—and he was. But maybe this was a joke.
“Fine. If we must.”
“Then find a similar build. Grab robe and mask. Their stuff too, ideally.”
“We're really doing this......”
Deep down, Claire had hoped 'joking, just follow.' Simpler brute force better for sure success. Knew arguing futile, so she quietly obeyed.
“Mask's too big.”
Her first try didn't fit. She'd half-hoped auto-adjust.
“Looks decent enough.”
“Voice doesn't change.”
“One might fit.”
“Eh, sure.”
But scanning around, her confidence dipped. Not many small enough. She tried the tiniest.
“Oh, fits.”
Perfectly on her face, voice warping oddly. Robe draped, body blended seamlessly into thief ranks.
“How's it?”
“Seeing you like that, suddenly just worried.”
“What'd I do?”
Visually, no issues. Yet an uncanny mismatch vibe. Robe/mask covered all but neck—why notice? Probably nothing; hope unseen.
“Need some cover story.”
“That's why I hated it.”
“Now we're low-rank raid survivors.”
“Yeeesh......”
No more griping—Aiden ignored it. Stressed coordinating story for infiltration. Claire just nodded.
Patch together excuses, nod, repeat. As their talk wrapped:
“Claire, got it all?”
“Duh. Too young to die half-listening.”
“Then my last line?”
“Mm......”
Claire nodded without hesitation. She'd tuned out most—okay, a lot—but the end stuck.
“If it goes south, just charge?”
“Haha.”
Aiden just smiled.
“That's all you need.”
Spot on.
Scouted clear, no one. Posed as if supporting the wounded. Tore robe further, bloodied it.
Wish it'd occurred for better camouflage—but too late. Time to act as barely surviving raiders back from village pillage.
“Help! I'm about to bleed out!”
Aiden shouted ahead; two distant specks hurried over.
“What? What's going on! Who're you!”
Ruins guards, voices laced with undisguisable shock.
“...Damn.”
As they neared, Aiden feigned tension release, collapsing. It worked—they panicked, hauling him up.
“Hey, what happened?! Talk before you drop. You idiot!”
Unlike feared instant bust, no suspicion.
Nothing unusual.
Aiden sighed inwardly with real relief. Caught early simpler, sure—but after prep? Waste, especially dragging another. Mood-killer.
“Mercs finally grew brains.”
“Drew the short straw, huh. Only a matter of time.”
“Overwhelmed with numbers... ended like this.”
Aiden tilted toward masked Claire in reply.
“Told 'em to bail before this. Money's just money. Crazy bastards......”
“Anyway, now head back? Survive first, deals later.”
They muttered aptly, recalled the bleeding, refocused.
“C'mon. Not dying mid-walk, right?”
“Yeah... lots to say......”
Grunts unquestioning, supported them to ruin base.
One trailing eyed Claire.
“That one's quiet. Rough shape?”
“Yeah. Bad wound.”
“Tough luck.”
Mostly act, but wound real. For realism, self-inflicted risky spot—heals fast, she said. Words dried up after.
Support continued inside. Especially 'injured' Claire drew worry; escort quickened to tent, seated them.
“Hang tight. No first aid here. Fetching someone.”
“...Yeah.”
Masked pair left hunting help. No onlookers. Earlier duo only interest.
Infiltration: suspiciously smooth.
“Good. Deeper before they return.”
“...Way off plan.”
“Better off, no?”
“No......”
Claire clutched side rising, sighed deeply.
“Then why bother injuring......”
