The Painting's Whereabouts
I gazed up at the sky and murmured, “The moon is beautiful tonight.”
[That's quite a romantic confession.]
It wasn't a confession—just my honest impression as I looked up at the moon. The moon rising in the night sky was truly stunning. It was so pretty I could've stared at it blankly forever without getting bored.
Still, it was about time to get started.
[Are your preparations complete?]
“Yes. Perfectly.”
I looked down. A massive crowd had gathered near the Art Gallery. Among them were police officers grinding their teeth, eager to catch me, and spectators who'd come just to glimpse the phantom thief. The audience was already seated. All that was left was to take the stage and perform.
I pushed aside my tangled thoughts for now. Figuring out my classmate's true identity wasn't something I needed to worry about right this second.
I adjusted my hat and smiled. “Let's begin.”
I had a feeling this magic show was going to be a smashing success.
The woman in the police uniform scratched her head irritably.
“Keep the people out. Control them properly.”
“Yes, ma'am!”
“That damn thief...”
Gadget spat curses at Raven as she lit a cigarette, clamping it between her lips. The nicotine flooding her lungs was the only thing calming her nerves.
The phantom thief Raven only announced the date, never the exact time. But since he'd always struck at night before, it wasn't hard to guess he'd show up soon.
“What a madhouse.”
The police force deployed this time was among the largest in history. It was unbelievable they'd mobilize this many just to catch one criminal. Add in the reporters chasing scoops and the gawkers, and chaos reigned.
This kind of situation might even play to his advantage. Especially with rumors he was a master of flawless disguises—they had to stay extra vigilant.
Gadget scanned her surroundings and muttered under her breath, “She didn't come, huh.”
The blonde detective girl with emerald eyes. Gadget genuinely respected her skills, despite her quirky personality, so she felt a twinge of regret.
Well, there's not much she could do in a mess like this anyway.
Detectives weren't really on-site arrest specialists. They tracked crimes after the fact, piecing together clues to find the culprit.
“Hoo.”
Gadget stubbed out her cigarette and headed inside the Art Gallery. What immediately caught her eye was the ironclad security around Raven's target, Lighthouse on Stormy Night. It screamed “not even an ant gets through.” Overkill or inefficiency didn't matter right now. With the nation's eyes on this place, failing to catch the thief would be a disaster beyond imagination.
Good. No way even he could steal the painting under this guard.
That's when it happened.
Pop!
Something snapped, and the gallery plunged into darkness. All the lights went out at once.
In the ensuing panic, Gadget bellowed, “Don't panic! Turn on the emergency lights!”
She'd anticipated this. Especially after that sewer fiasco last time. She'd set up mana-powered special lights as backup, so the gallery lit up again in no time.
But the show had already begun.
“What...!?”
In just five seconds or so. In that split instant, the painting had vanished without a trace. Everyone gaped at the suddenly empty wall.
No one could figure out how he'd done it.
“What the hell...”
“The sensors didn't go off!”
“But without magic, this is impossible...!”
The mana detectors hadn't triggered, yet it defied any non-magical explanation. As everyone reeled from the impossible magic trick, shouts erupted from outside.
“It's Phantom Thief Raven!”
“He's got the painting!!”
That was all it took. Gadget barked orders without hesitation. “Everyone, pursue Raven!”
She charged out first, gun in hand. On the rooftop of the opposite building, a familiar silhouette stood casually in the spotlight of police flashlights.
A man in a black silk hat and fluttering cape. In his hand was the Lighthouse on Stormy Night—the very painting from the gallery moments ago.
“Chase him down!”
They couldn't just let him stroll off with it. The police moved in unison, forming a net around Raven.
Gadget headed for the opposite building, pistol ready—until someone grabbed her shoulder from behind.
In this hair-trigger moment, the interruption made her scowl as she whirled around. But her expression changed instantly upon seeing who it was.
“Sherlock?”
“Don't chase him.”
“What?”
“That's a fake.”
It was baffling. A fake? What did that even mean? Not just her—everyone had seen the thief on the roof. It wasn't some crude balloon dummy like before. Every pose, every movement screamed living human.
“A body double?”
“No. The man on the roof is probably Raven.”
“Do you realize how crazy that sounds?”
First it was fake, now it's really him? Gadget was utterly confused about which tune to dance to.
“I meant the painting is fake.”
“The painting's fake?”
She recalled the glimpse she'd gotten. It had looked identical to the real deal.
“How'd you spot it?”
“Using my magic to deduce.”
“Convenient answer.”
Gadget glared at the opposite building. The moment to act had long passed. Pinned by the detective girl, on-site capture was off the table. She handed it off to her subordinates and decided to hear Sherlock out.
“Fine, say you're right. Where's the real painting?”
“It didn't go anywhere.”
Was she twisting words just to piss her off? The cryptic reply was seriously making her doubt.
“Sherlock. The painting is gone.”
“No. The lighthouse has been right there all along. Follow me.”
The detective trudged back into the gallery, leaving those words behind. Gadget stared at her retreating figure and let out an involuntary chuckle at the sheer audacity—waltzing into the civilian control zone like she owned it. Anyone would think she was the boss cop.
The gallery was empty. No surprise there. With the painting “stolen” and the thief fleeing, everyone except minimal door guards had joined the chase.
Plus, it was dimly lit, giving off an eerie vibe. The emergency mana lights were limited, placed only around the painting.
They reached the spot. Same as before: just a blank white wall where the painting should be.
“Well? Where's the lighthouse?”
“Lights out for five seconds. No magic. Could anyone steal it perfectly and escape to the opposite rooftop?”
“......”
Common sense said no. But hadn't Phantom Thief Raven shattered common sense before?
“What if he didn't steal it? What if he just made it look stolen?”
“What are you— Ah.”
Her retort to Sherlock cut off. Staring intently at the empty wall, Gadget spotted something.
Riiip!!
She tore at the wall roughly, chasing the clue. It ripped away easily, flapping like cloth. This wasn't a “wall” anymore.
“A curtain. One identical to the gallery wall, used to fake the disappearance.”
“No way...”
Behind it, Lighthouse on Stormy Night sat perfectly intact.
“Designed to drop when the lights went out. He must've installed it from the ceiling with the notice letter the night before.”
Sherlock's deductions continued.
“A close look, like you did, would've revealed it easily. But in the heat of the moment? Hard to stay calm. Especially when shouts of Raven appearing outside hit right after.”
A flawless trick that fooled everyone.
“Guards think the painting's stolen, thief's across the way. Naturally, security here slacks for a split second. That's when Raven slips in, grabs it, and vanishes.”
All but one, that is. Sherlock.
“...How'd you see through it all?”
“I observed.”
And then.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Applause echoed through the silent gallery. Perched on the statue's hand—from last night's notice—a man sat smiling.
Phantom Thief Raven had arrived.