The Lupin Foundation's First Gift
I loved the idea of donating to the orphanage. I set up the foundation and immediately headed to the bank to open an account. The first phase of my plan had gone off without a hitch. From here on out, the Lupin Foundation would dive headfirst into legitimate charity work. No more slapdash drops of cash envelopes at doorsteps like before. This was a far more systematic, reliable way to help people.
Of course, this meant no one would know it came from Phantom Thief Raven. But that didn't matter much. I hadn't become a phantom thief just to build a goody-two-shoes image, after all.
Have you decided where to donate?
'Of course. I've had it in mind from the start.'
I'd picked my first donation target the moment I decided to establish the foundation. Without wiping off my disguise, I headed to the destination in my Lupin persona. The moment we arrived, the Goddess fully approved of my choice.
Indeed. In a way, it's the obvious choice.
'Right?'
What had sparked my decision to start the foundation in the first place? Rage at the officials fleecing the orphanage. So naturally, the Lupin Foundation's inaugural donation had to go right here.
Not money stolen by a phantom thief, but a generous gift from a suspiciously wealthy gentleman. What excuse could the tax office possibly use to seize that?
I strode confidently through the door into the orphanage. The kids eyed the unfamiliar middle-aged man warily. No point in making a fuss—they'd just get scared—so I gave a quick nod and headed straight for the director's office.
Knock knock.
"Excuse me."
The door opened, revealing the elderly director.
"...Who might you be?"
"Might we speak inside for a moment?"
He sized me up, then nodded and ushered me in.
"Please, come in."
"Thank you."
The familiar scene was one I'd spied on from the ceiling just days ago. The difference? This time, I was a guest, seated properly and treated with respect.
"The children are adorable."
"Haha, that's the highest praise."
I'd mentioned something back when I donated at the church: my criterion for recipients was whether they appeared in the original story. This place had shown up too, so I was confident the director was a good soul worthy of my donation.
Unlike Sister Theresia, though, his role wasn't major. He was more of an extra—a minor character with barely any lines. But what he lacked in screen time, he made up for in impact.
That's why I'd chosen this orphanage over the church. The problem? That impact was a negative one.
This seemingly ordinary orphanage becomes a sacrificial lamb for the story's villain. Even in a shonen tale with its share of dark worldbuilding, this episode ranks among the most tragic. It drew plenty of criticism for the plot direction, but since it played a pivotal role in the protagonist's emotional growth, it had its fans too.
Anyway, this old man was undeniably a good person. No worries about him squandering the funds on anything shady—they'd all go to the kids. As for the villain's terrorist plot? I'd handle that somehow. With my knowledge of the original, preventing it would be a breeze.
With that settled, I got to the point.
"The Lupin Foundation has decided to donate to this orphanage."
"The Lupin Foundation?"
"Yes. A newly established charity and relief organization."
No need for long explanations. I set my black briefcase on the table.
"A modest contribution we've prepared."
"Oh my... what is this?"
I nodded at his inquiring glance. He peeked inside, then jolted in shock at the amount.
His reaction was perfect. Now that's the fun of sponsoring.
"This sum is far too large."
"Then that's splendid."
"Why such a fortune...?"
I smiled leisurely as I replied.
"The Lupin Foundation has ample funds."
If we ever ran short, I'd just steal more. What could be more perfect? Ignoring the tiny detail that theft is a crime, anyway.
"I mean, why invest such funds in an unremarkable place like our humble orphanage?"
The director was more cautious than I'd expected. Maybe the recent tax office shakedown had heightened his wariness.
"You've never visited before, so I can't fathom why you'd choose us out of all the orphanages in Britannia."
Not an unreasonable question. The reason was simple, though.
"I saw an article a few days ago. The orphanage targeted by that hot-topic phantom thief—it was this one."
"That... yes, that's true."
"And the government seized all the phantom thief's donation, only for the thief to break into the vault and steal it back."
The old man's expression darkened slightly. Hardly a fond memory, especially with how sleazy the official in charge had been.
"In short, all eyes are on this place right now."
"Eyes...?"
"Yes. Not just citizens and the press, but the government and even the phantom thief themselves."
He nodded reluctantly, not yet grasping my point.
"That's the reason."
"...Pardon?"
"What the new Lupin Foundation lacks isn't money—it's recognition. Donating a large sum here, where attention is already focused, makes perfect sense."
He furrowed his brow, looking a bit displeased. Not surprising. But this was the most natural excuse I could muster.
"So you're saying you'll use us."
"No, it's mutual benefit. We're donating anyway—why not make it advantageous for both sides?"
If my bluntness rubbed him the wrong way, it was just honesty. Legally and ethically, there was no issue. He seemed to realize that, nodding despite his conflicted expression.
"...Understood. After accepting money from a thief, what right do I have to complain?"
"I don't think you're in the wrong, Director."
"Hmph. Even if I end up a villain burning in hell, all I want is one more meal for these children."
On Earth, we'd call folks like him saints or paragons of virtue. If someone like that went to hell, it'd be God's mistake, not his.
Anyway, the donation was safely done. Deeply satisfied at hitting my goal, I grinned and stood.
"We'll continue with regular sponsorships, of course."
"Thank you. May I have your name, sponsor?"
I adjusted my hat as I answered.
"Arsene Lupin."
"Arsene Lupin... I'll remember that."
"Until next time."
A quick bow, and I left the office.
'Glad it went smoothly.'
Well done. Now let's head home and rest.
'Yeah, sounds good.'
It felt like wrapping up a major project. Time to get home, crash, and peel off this uncomfortable disguise. Wearing it over ten minutes made me feel like I was suffocating.
But my hopes were dashed right away. As I stepped out, someone blocked my path.
The intruder was a little girl so short I had to look way down to see the top of her head. She, meanwhile, craned her neck to meet my eyes.
"What is it, little one?"
"Mister, who are you?"
What a bold kid. While the others kept their distance out of caution, she fearlessly planted herself in my way, demanding answers.
I countered her question with one of my own.
"Who do you think I am?"
"A tall, suspicious mister."
"......"
She didn't hesitate a bit. Stroking my chin, I studied her closely. Frizzy orange bob, green eyes. Striking features, but no memory of her from the original story. Either she never appeared, or she was a total extra.
"So, who are you, mister? Ignoring me?"
"No. Tell me your name first, and I'll tell you mine."
She narrowed her eyes at me, huffed, and turned away. No intention of sharing, huh? Fine by me.
"Judy. Judy Abbot."
She acted all tsundere at first, then spilled it easily. A promise was a promise, so I reciprocated.
"Arsene Lupin."
"Lupin? Weird name."
"Yours is pretty, though."
Dealing with this cheeky girl could go on forever, so I patted her head in a "time to go" gesture, praising her name casually.
"Eek."
"See you next time, Judy."
Leaving her pouty glare behind, I exited the orphanage. Now, homeward bound.
Of course, it wasn't all over. Night hadn't fallen yet.
Time to switch back to Phantom Thief Raven mode.