The Phantom Thief's Victory
Phantom Thief Raven smiled leisurely. Even though the current situation clearly had him cornered.
As if this, too, was merely a scenario crafted to heighten the drama of the play.
"Impressive. I never imagined you'd see through it so quickly."
At least those words carried genuine admiration. But the girl who received the praise had no intention of meekly basking in it.
On the contrary, Sherlock furrowed her brow ever so slightly, openly showing her displeasure.
"You're wearing glasses today. They suit you quite well, though."
It's a shame they hide your pretty face. The afterthought slipped out like lighthearted banter. Even in this situation, the phantom thief seemed far too nonchalant.
"Phantom Thief Raven. Get down from there right now."
Gadget had already drawn her gun and taken aim. As the barrel pointed his way, Raven raised both hands in a gesture of surrender.
"Alright, alright, could you lower that gun? It's pretty scary, you know."
"Last warning. Get down."
"Yes, yes. As you wish, scary detective lady."
Raven lightly leaped from the statue's hand and landed on the ground. Even as he surprisingly complied with the warning, Gadget didn't let her guard down.
"You know, there's something I've been really curious about."
Still holding his hands up, Raven slowly walked toward the two women.
"Stop!"
"Sherlock, right? What did you mean by observing my trick?"
He didn't know she was a magician. Gadget had a gut feeling she shouldn't reveal that information to the thief. So before Sherlock could speak, she cut in with the answer.
"It means she saw right through your deception. That's all."
"Hmm..."
"Frustrated?"
Raven shrugged.
"Who knows? Maybe. I put quite a bit of effort into preparing it."
"Good. Since I'm the one who caught you, go ahead and vent all you want. In prison."
The conversation was dragging on. Naturally, because Gadget was deliberately playing along. The moment she spotted Raven on the statue, she'd sent a request for backup. Soon, the entire art gallery would be sealed tight—not even a mouse could escape.
Provoking the thief and creating variables was far riskier than stringing him along with talk.
"Raven."
At that moment, Sherlock—who hadn't spoken a word until now—finally chimed in.
This isn't good...
There hadn't been time to explain the plan to the girl. She didn't know that holding out just a little longer would let them capture the thief perfectly.
"Got something to say? If it's a confession, it's a bit sudden. We need time to get to know each other first."
Fortunately, Raven kept the conversation going. He even tossed in a silly joke to buy time himself.
Good. If they could just hold on a little longer like this.
"Why do you steal?"
"Hmm... That's an unexpected question."
Sherlock spoke as if they were alone, ignoring Gadget right beside her.
"You've made a fool of Britannia's police and become the nation's biggest celebrity."
"You're giving me too much credit—it's embarrassing."
"With that kind of skill. Why choose to be a thief?"
By then, Raven could roughly guess what the girl was getting at. He responded with his usual playful deflection.
"If I quit stealing and repent, would you forgive me?"
"No. You've already committed the crime, so you must pay the price."
"Then I guess I'll just keep stealing and live my life."
Sherlock frowned at his subtle attempt to end the talk.
"Answer my question. Why a thief?"
At her persistent probing, even Raven dropped his playful demeanor. His blue eyes—cold and expressionless—locked onto the detective's green ones.
He pulled his hat low and asked back in a low voice.
"Because if I don't, someone I love will die."
"......"
"What do you think? Am I the bad guy?"
No answer came. Sherlock's lips pressed tight, her face a tangle of complex emotions.
Finally, fed up, Gadget glared at the thief and spoke.
"No matter how much you love someone, harming others can't be forgiven."
"Maybe not. But not everyone thinks the same."
His glowing sapphire eyes pierced hers, as if seeing straight through to her deepest thoughts, beyond the emerald turmoil.
"I want to hear your thoughts."
A brief silence. Sherlock drew a small breath and finally replied.
"I don't know..."
"I see."
Even though she'd dodged a firm answer, Raven didn't call her out on it. He simply nodded calmly in acceptance.
"That's enough for now. But someday, you'll have to choose."
"You..."
"Time's up. Like I said, I put a lot of work into this stage, but you saw through it too easily—kind of a shame."
As he abruptly wrapped up, Gadget thrust her gun forward in warning.
"Stop! Move a muscle, and I'll shoot!"
"That's why I figured you'd do that, so I prepared something too."
Bang!!
"Tch."
The thief dodged the first blank shot. Then, whatever he'd prepared activated.
"What the...! The painting!"
The photo hanging neatly on the wall suddenly floated up on its own and began moving through the air.
But why isn't the sensor going off?!
An incomprehensible situation. A scene impossible without magic, yet the gallery's mana sensors remained silent.
Had he found a way to perfectly bypass them? If so, there was virtually no means to stop a magician thief.
The bizarre spectacle didn't end there. The floating painting soon shot forward at high speed. Its trajectory ended, predictably, at Phantom Thief Raven.
The sensors still didn't trigger. Before they could intercept, the painting slipped neatly into Raven's arms like it was returning to its master.
Gadget stared in stunned silence as the thief chuckled mischievously.
"Sorry about this. I didn't even want to steal it, but the painting begged me to take it along."
This went beyond mere magic. It was a mesmerizing 'illusion' that could captivate anyone who witnessed it.
"......"
Even the great Sherlock seemed unable to see through this trick, watching the scene in evident shock.
By then, Raven had hooked his grapple to the opposite window and waved leisurely in farewell.
"Looks like my victory again today. Keep trying harder."
"Tch! Stop right there!!"
"Oh, and one more thing I almost forgot."
Whoosh.
The line connecting the grapple and thief retracted automatically, pulling him toward the window. In his final moment, he grinned wickedly at the dazed Sherlock.
"The bit about someone I love dying? Total lie."
"...Huh?"
Crash!
Before the girl could process his words, the thief shattered the window and escaped.
In the end, they failed to stop Phantom Thief Raven's heist once more.
Back home, I finally let out the sigh I'd been holding.
"That was really close..."
[Exactly. Why pull a stunt like that?]
The Goddess was right; I'd been more reckless than usual today. But there was a perfectly reasonable explanation.
"To figure out Sherlock's identity, I have to talk to her."
She'd shown up wearing glasses I hadn't seen last time—high prescription, making it nearly impossible to identify her bare face. So conversation was the only way to glean more info.
Of course, the more I did that, the easier it would be for her to guess mine. That's why I'd deliberately acted like a sleazy womanizer, unlike my usual phantom thief persona.
It led to a dangerously close call, but since I'd planned for that—designing a double-layered trick—I escaped unscathed and stole the painting to boot.
"Still, she's impressive. Never thought she'd spot it right away."
[Hmm. Indeed she is.]
Was it just her brilliant deduction, or something more? Either way, she lived up to being my fated rival.
"But she didn't catch the final trick, right?"
[Probably not. Honestly, how could anyone?]
Her response made me swell with pride. All those headache-inducing days of planning had paid off.
The first trick—the smokescreen—was something I'd tossed together lightly. The real one I'd agonized over was the follow-up: Operation Floaty-Float.
Pulling the painting with magic was simple. The key was avoiding the mana sensors entirely.
The answer? Ultrafine threads, invisible to the eye, tying the painting to an object outside the gallery. Set it to activate on a sound cue without me casting magic, and no mana registers inside.
The trigger? The detective lady's blank shot.
"Heh. That's the phantom thief's trick for you."
I wondered what Sherlock was up to now. Maybe grinding her teeth in rage, cursing me.
But swapping her for Sharon in my mind... that image just didn't fit.
"Hmm..."
[What's wrong?]
"What do you think, Goddess? Is Sherlock really Sharon?"
The Goddess answered my question.