The Pink-Haired Pickpocket
The goddess Yustia declared, "Fuck, stop right there?!"
"You gonna stop just 'cause I said so, you dumbass? Eat shit."
Brunel was a fairly populous village for one on the frontier, far from the reach of the imperial palace. That also meant the quality of its residents left much to be desired.
"You little half-demon brat. If I catch you, I'll smash you to pieces this time!"
"Try it."
Criminals, rogue monks, exiled adventurers, whores... even demons. All sorts gathered here.
Lilia, currently fleeing from the locals, was one such soul.
She paused in an alley to catch her breath and glanced back.
They were still chasing her.
"Wow, they're persistent..."
To survive as a pickpocket in Brunel, you needed three things: fast legs, sharp instincts, and luck.
Luck seemed in short supply today.
Kicking off the ground, she leaped onto a toppled cart and vaulted over the fence. Her slender tail flicked out to steady her balance, shimmering pink hair catching the sunlight.
Curses erupted from below.
"That demon bitch is on the roofs again!"
"Throw stones! Stones!"
A rock whistled past, shattering a tile beside her.
Lilia scowled.
The war had ended long ago.
The Demon King was defeated over a decade ago, and the empire had signed a peace treaty with the demons. Officially, demons were no longer enemies. Demon merchants frequented trade caravans, and in border towns, humans and demons drank in the same taverns.
At least, on paper.
But to frontier folk, history was just a story in a book.
To them, demons were still ominous, unsettling... and perfect scapegoats.
Especially ambiguous ones like Lilia.
"Half-breed."
The word echoed in her ears.
Neither full demon nor human.
"You think I chose to be born like this?"
She'd just come into the world that way.
If eyes lingered too long, people got chatty for no reason. A smile made faces flush, and standing too close shifted the air uncomfortably.
Succubus blood.
Even half-strength, it didn't fade.
That's why the words on her first day in Brunel still burned fresh.
-Need work?
-You could live easy just using that body of yours.
A brothel owner's "kind" offer.
Lilia had smiled and refused. That night, she starved.
And the next.
By the third day, she got it.
Pride doesn't fill your belly.
So she'd chosen this line of work.
Pickpocketing.
At least it was her choice.
"..."
An old memory surfaced, souring her mood despite rarely dwelling on the past. Confirming the coast clear, Lilia hopped down from the roof with practiced ease.
She walked a short way to a familiar building. It looked abandoned, but three knife scars on the door marked it as safe.
Two quick raps, one long.
The door creaked open.
"You're late, Pink."
The burly doorman yawned.
"Such a warm welcome. Ever think of calling me 'sis'?"
"Bring in big money, and I'll consider it."
Lilia snorted and stepped inside.
The interior bustled more than expected. Spread cards, rolling bottles, whetstone rasps told the tale: thieves, thugs, con artists. Brunel's haven for the homeless.
Lilia pulled pouches from her belt and tossed them on the table.
Clink.
Silver coins jingled.
"Today's quota."
The middle-aged man behind the table flicked a coin, testing it.
"You're late."
"Got chased. I'm popular."
"Blame your face."
Laughter rippled around the room.
Lilia dragged a chair over and flopped down like it was routine. She caught a tossed hunk of cheap bread and bit in.
Hard enough to crack teeth. But free was free.
"Heard the news?"
"Village is in an uproar."
"Who stabbed who this time?"
"Nah, not that. The Holy Light Church cathedral."
Lilia's ears twitched.
"Cathedral?"
"Someone robbed it."
Laughter exploded.
"Insane."
"Even thugs don't touch that place."
"Exactly."
The man swigged his drink and continued.
"They cleaned out the offering box and ransacked the warehouse."
"That's why the village is flipping out?"
"Nah."
He grinned.
"The funny part's next."
He paused for effect.
"Dumped all the stolen food and coin on the beggars."
"...What?"
Lilia froze mid-chew.
"Crazy bastard."
"Thief playing saint, they say."
"Or a deranged zealot."
The chatter dismissed it lightly, but it nagged at Lilia.
A cathedral-robbing thief.
Who gave it all away.
The most pointless thing in this town.
Here, good guys died first.
"...Idiot."
The words slipped out, insincere.
The next morning in Brunel was its usual racket.
Merchants haggled with curses. Drunks stirred from gutters. Patrols trudged the streets with sour faces.
From a rundown inn's roof, Lilia watched it all, perched in the eaves' shade, chin in hand, scanning for marks.
"Alright... who's today's prey?"
Her gaze drifted slowly.
Armored adventurers. She shook her head.
"Nope."
Fierce-looking mercenaries.
"Double nope. They'd kill me."
A plump merchant, coin purse bulging.
Eyes lit briefly, then away.
"Guards. Pass."
Lilia had rules for pickpocketing.
Skip the strong. Gotta survive.
Adventurers especially—no pride like theirs.
Targeting elders or kids? Just... no.
No reason. She just wouldn't.
No matter the hunger, some lines stayed uncrossed.
"Ah, business sucks today..."
Sighing as she rose—
A figure entered her view.
Worn clothes. Dusty cloak. Messy brown hair.
"...What."
Lilia scoffed. Typical beggar.
Turning away, bored—
Sunlight glinted. Briefly, something in his cloak shone.
Her eyes narrowed.
"...Huh?"
Leaning closer.
He walked casually, unguarded. Looked like any drifter.
But that gleam. Metal. Valuable.
"Disguised beggar?"
Her lips curved.
Common in Brunel. Rags to lure the careless. Perfect bait.
Lilia stood.
Tail twitched.
"Quota filled for today..."
She crept to the roof's edge, timing it.
As he passed the alley mouth—
Whoosh.
She dropped like a shadow. Silent. Hand brushed, slipped in smooth, familiar.
Precise.
Something solid met her fingers.
Hook, line, sinker.
"...Got it."
She bolted, veering into the alley without looking back.
Twisting corners, scaling fences, familiar escape route. Heart pounded with thrill. Rare rush.
Glancing at her prize—
A voice from behind.
Right behind.
Breath-close.
"That."
Calm male voice.
"Is mine."
Chill raced up Lilia's spine.
"Eek...!"
Nearly a scream. She lunged forward, tail whipping, hand on dagger hilt.
How?
Three alleys turned.
No breath, steps, presence.
Slowly turning.
The brown-haired man stood there.
Still ragged. Beggarly.
Yet not a hair out of place.
Not like someone who'd sprinted.
"...Who the hell are you."
Lilia squinted.
His gaze fixed on her hand. The stolen item.
"That."
Even tone.
"Is mine."
She clamped her mouth shut.
Run?
Toss and bolt?
Or...
Brain raced.
One verdict.
Dangerous.
Gut screamed it.
"...Ha."
Lilia shrugged deliberately.
"First time I've seen someone this calm after getting pickpocketed."
"Why'd you steal it?"
She smirked.
"Does stealing need a reason?"
Starving.
To live.
Need money.
Plenty answers, none worth sharing.
She threw it back.
He studied her a moment.
Then.
"Fine then."
He left her there.
"...Huh?"
Lilia blinked.
No demands, no anger. Just turned and walked out like nothing happened.
She stared blankly at his back.
"...What the."
No chase.
No 'give it back.'
No threats.
Just... over.
Standing frozen, she looked at her hand.
It still gleamed. A book.
"...Can I really keep this?"
No answer.
The alley end was empty.
Shrugging after a beat.
"Eh, good's good."
World had weirdos.
Brunel especially.
"This covers today's quota..."
"This covers your quota?!"
Smack!
Lilia's vision whipped sideways. Cheek burned. She stumbled, crashing down.
Clutching her throbbing face, she glared up.
"...What the hell, why'd you hit me..."
"This is a Holy Light Church scripture!"
The boss snatched the book, waving it.
"Can't just sell this! Hit the black market, and the knights hear about it!"
He jabbed the cover.
"Wrong hands, it's blasphemy. Our heads roll!"
Lilia's face hardened.
"...Oh."
Now it clicked.
Cathedral.
The rumor.
That crazy thief.
"Fuck... you bring this?"
A kick slammed her gut. Breath caught.
"Fill your quota again."
Another.
"Now."
Shoved toward the door.
"Don't come back without it."
Door slammed. Lilia stood numb.
Blood taste stirred old memories.
"...Ha."
Laughter escaped.
Ridiculous.
Unfair.
And... weary.
She slumped by the road.
People passed, carts rumbled, curses and laughs filled the air—but nothing registered.
Wiping her mouth with her hand.
"What a shitty day..."
Shouldn't have played nice.
Shouldn't have stolen weird shit.
Shouldn't have...
"..."
Staring blankly at her feet—
A familiar shadow fell over her.
"What are you doing here?"
That calm voice, heard before.
Lilia's brow twitched.
Without looking up.
"None of your business."
Silence.
"Scram."
Blunt as hell.
But he didn't leave.
Cloth rustled nearby. He sat.
Irritated, she looked up. The brown-haired man.
That serene weirdo. Stolen from, yet... was she the idiot?
"...Why're you here again."
He eyed her bruised cheek.
No pity, no curiosity.
Just... concern?
"You look hurt."
Lilia stiffened.
"...What?"
"If you're not okay..."
Was he sincere?
"I can lend an ear."
She went quiet, long.
In this town, no one offered worry first.
They used, avoided, cursed.
Or lusted.
One of the four.
So this felt off.
"...Ha."
Averting her eyes, she muttered.
"You're a real weirdo."
But this time.
She didn't want him gone.