Strange Companionship
“Now even this look feels familiar.”
[Indeed it does.]
Lately, I've had the distinct feeling that I'm turning into Lupin more often than not. Still, even accounting for the discomfort, there's no surer way to set up my tricks.
A quick scan from outside showed no real differences from last time. Of course, I wasn't about to let my guard down. I was fully prepared for the possibility that they might be lying in wait to exploit any carelessness on my part, just like before.
It's fine. Honestly, deep down, I was hoping they'd cracked my code. I'd stayed up all night crafting it meticulously—doesn't it deserve to be solved by someone? Or better yet, if no one could unravel it to the end, it'd become that legendary unsolvable puzzle everyone tries their hand at.
Harboring those contradictory wishes, I strode boldly toward the main entrance.
Maybe because I'd visited just the other day, the guards seemed to recognize my face.
“Welcome, sir.”
“Mm. Keep up the good work.”
After a casual exchange of greetings, I stepped inside the casino—and immediately locked eyes with someone further in.
…Hm?
What’s this strange sense of familiarity?
Those emerald eyes that seemed to pull you in. No need to look any further; that one feature alone conjured a certain person in my mind.
Sherlock?
But I couldn't be sure. Her hair color and eyes matched Sherlock's traits perfectly, but in this world, blonde hair and green eyes were hardly rare. There were probably plenty of women in this very casino with the same look.
More importantly, everything else about her was completely different. The atmosphere alone made her seem like an entirely different person.
Long, straight hair cascading down, a wine-red dress. Add in the high heels, earrings, and necklace, and it was perfectly suited to the casino dress code—but it didn't match Sherlock's usual style at all.
Plus, her face was done up with bold makeup.
Am I bad at recognizing people? Anyone in my shoes would be confused, right?
In a normal situation, I'd just ask. If I thought I knew someone, a casual “Hey, do I know you?” would clear it up.
But not now. I couldn't exactly walk up to her as Lupin, mid-heist disguise, and blurt out, “Are you Sherlock by any chance?”
What do you think, Goddess?
[Hmm. Hard to say.]
Even my last hope, the Goddess chance, fizzled out disappointingly.
Ah, I got so lost in thought that I ended up staring too long. Why was she staring right back instead of looking away?
Somehow, we'd stumbled into this bizarre staring contest.
Then, a woman next to her approached, chatting as she came closer.
Wait. Isn't that…?
“Lupin! Long time no see!”
“Didn't we meet two days ago?”
“Exactly why it's been a while. I come to the casino every day.”
Is she bragging about that?
Anyway, Joan's unexpected appearance threw me off a bit. I hadn't expected her to be glued to the casino again this time.
“So, what was that between you two just now? Looked awfully intimate.”
“Just your imagination. Never seen her before.”
“Hmm… A fateful encounter at the casino! How romantic~.”
She's definitely the weirdest person I've met yet—more awkward than anyone else.
I needed to slip away fast. But against my wishes, she grabbed my arm and started playing matchmaker.
“Come on, since we've crossed paths, let's introduce ourselves. This is Arsene Lupin!”
“…Hello.”
“And this beautiful young lady is Charlotte!”
Charlotte? Not Sherlock, but Charlotte?
The similarity in names only heightened the suspicion.
The girl, dressed like a noble lady, gazed at me for a moment before bowing demurely.
“Hello. I'm Charlotte.”
Her sweet, gentle tone was the polar opposite of Sherlock's curt brusqueness. But her voice and build seemed quite similar to Sherlock's physical traits.
Interesting.
This twist wasn't half bad. Playing a game of suspicion—wondering if she was really Sherlock, or even my classmate Sharon—sounded fun. A psychological battle like this was romantic in its own way, wasn't it?
“Since we're all here, how about we hang out together?”
Right on cue, Joan—the mediator stuck between us—made the perfect suggestion.
I paused just long enough to avoid seeming suspicious, then replied leisurely.
“I'm all for it.”
I trailed off deliberately, flicking my gaze to Charlotte.
Well? How will you play this?
Raven?
That was the first thought that crossed the girl's mind upon spotting the middle-aged gentleman entering the casino.
Age, outfit, appearance—nothing matched. Yet the suspicion hit her hard.
Probably because of the unique aura he exuded. That air of leisure, as if everything was mere amusement.
His personality must be as eccentric as a phantom thief's.
As she eyed the gentleman, he stared right back at the young lady.
Two polar opposites exchanging glances.
According to Joan, who was chattering excitedly beside her, the man was named Arsene Lupin. He'd mentioned it was his first time at the casino just two days ago.
Was that pure coincidence? Or had he come for reconnaissance before stealing something?
Sherlock took in every minute detail of the man.
He seemed a touch taller than Raven, but that could easily be faked with shoe lifts. Phantom thieves were masters of disguise, after all. Ruling him out based on superficial differences would be premature.
The two locked eyes, lost in deep thought.
How that looked to Joan, the third wheel, was obvious.
Oh my oh my! What's this?
Letting out an auntie-like exclamation in her head, she flashed a sly grin and sprang into action.
Sherlock watched as Joan approached Lupin and struck up a conversation.
Their idle chit-chat yielded no proof he was the thief.
“Come on, since we've crossed paths, let's introduce ourselves. This is Arsene Lupin!”
“…Hello.”
“And this beautiful young lady is Charlotte!”
Joan had called her Sherlock earlier but now deliberately mangled it to Charlotte. No—this could be an opportunity.
She was in a completely different look from her usual self, even if reluctantly. Even if he was Raven, he wouldn't easily connect this girl to the detective.
Until she had proof he wasn't the thief, she'd hide her identity too. No need to tip him off with her real name.
She greeted him naturally, fitting her current persona.
“Hello. I'm Charlotte.”
With that, their odd staring contest ended. Joan, harboring her own ulterior motives and playing Cupid in her mind, steered the situation.
“Since we're all here, how about we hang out together?”
Hang out. Sherlock pondered briefly.
If he wasn't the thief, she had no time to waste. The item could vanish anytime.
Logically, going solo made more sense.
But…
Why? Her instincts kept pointing at the suspicious man. Don't look away. Keep watching him.
Caught in the fierce battle between reason and gut.
“I'm all for it.”
Lupin's subtle glance tipped the scales.
“I'm fine with it too.”
And so began the trio's bizarre companionship.
At the roulette table.
“Ugh… Lost again…”
“Oh. Is this the jackpot?”
“No way!”
At the table games.
“Argh! This is rigged!”
“Hit again.”
“No way!”
The three roamed the casino, enjoying the games. Yet their total capital remained steady. Losses on one side were offset by wins on the other; bankruptcy in one spot led to jackpots elsewhere.
Meanwhile, Sherlock, watching it all up close, grew increasingly anxious.
Is he not the one…?
He leisurely savored every corner of the casino but hadn't spared a glance at the auction hall.
According to the phantom thief's notice, tonight was the announced date—no specific time, but Raven would strike eventually.
No major disturbances yet, thankfully. But she couldn't forget this calm was just the eve of the storm.
Sherlock figured Raven would brazenly steal the target once it hit the auction block. The guy loved that kind of attention, after all.
If she was right, time was running critically short.
If this Lupin really was the thief, then right about now…
“Shall we move to a new playground?”
“…Huh? My money… Where to this time?”
“Hm. How about over there?”
Sherlock followed his pointing finger and inwardly cheered.
Proposing the auction hall right on her predicted timing. This was as good as confirmation.
Finally…!
Phantom Thief Raven. Got you.