Lonsday Enhancedia. She had tanned skin and black hair with a single streak of red in her bangs. Her asymmetrical, chest-length hair looked like she’d haphazardly cut it herself, but her good looks and fearless smile made it seem like a deliberate style choice. She wore trousers with suspenders and a jacket over her men’s shirt. She had boldly sliced off the cloth of the right trouser leg from the inseam down. She was flawless beauty personified, and her presence was quite commanding. Her legs were long like a supermodel’s, her waist narrow, her ample chest asserting itself prominently, and her posture as straight as a stage actress’s. The center of the universe seemed to be wherever she stood. She naturally attracted attention, sometimes basking in applause but never listening to those around her. She was tough like a diamond no matter what came her way. “Hey, Norman. Figured you’d be by soon. Got a smoke?” She sprawled in the middle of a sofa that could seat three, her long legs propped up on a table in front of her. On the low table was a bottle of liquor, an empty takeout box from the Downey Street restaurant they frequented, scattered newspapers, and an ashtray full of cigarette butts. The mess had spread well beyond the table. “…Sigh.” Norman sighed and adjusted his hat as he surveyed the wreckage. Lonsday lived on the top floor of a three-story ruin. It was originally a warehouse-slash-hideaway with an unusually elaborate design for a band of bootleggers. Around three months ago, she had mounted a solo raid on the gang, wiped them out, and had been living there alone ever since. She’d made the shower and toilet somewhat usable, but the windows on the first and second floor would have stayed broken if Norman hadn’t gone out of his way to order replacements. The bottom line was, she was lazy. The way she lounged on the sofa, puffing her cigarette while watching Norman collect trash in a thick burlap sack, made that crystal clear. “Miss Lonsday, I keep asking you to tidy up after yourself a little more. You haven’t cleaned once since I was last here, have you?” “Heh-heh. What are you trying to say?” Lonsday waved her hand at Norman, who was tossing liquor bottles and scraps of paper into the trash bag. “If I did that, you’d be out of a job. I know how rough it is to be unemployed.” “Being your maid isn’t in my job description.” “And who am I to stop you from expressing your love this way? My heart isn’t too small to accept you for who you are. In fact, it’s quite big.” “…” “The things right outside my heart are quite big, too.” Lonsday deliberately knelt on the sofa and threw out her chest. “Why did you feel the need to clarify that?” Norman couldn’t help but sigh. An expanse of tan cleavage peeked out from her shirt, which was open down to the third button. He nearly took the bait and looked, but since it would lead to a smattering of teases, he simply continued to pick up the garbage. “I might not compare to your little pet doggy, but I surely take the cake in terms of firmness and elasticity, no?” “You definitely take the cake in terms of wearing me down.” “Heh…” “Please don’t tell me you’re proud of that.” Grumbling, he gathered the trash he could see and tossed it into the pit leading to the first floor. It was a hole over two meters wide, about the size of two of Norman’s living rooms. He used a thick burlap bag for the trash because it was meant to be dropped from the third floor—afterward, it would be Norman’s job to retrieve and throw away the contents and bring the bag back up. When he’d mostly finished, he sat down on the chair opposite Lonsday; you could feel the age of the chair, but it was still fairly luxurious—so luxurious that it made Norman slightly uncomfortable to sit in it, thinking the gang boss must have sat there. If anything, Lonsdale ought to be sitting there, but that was up to her. “What have you been up to lately, Miss Lonsday?” “Tough question. Let’s see… Last week, I lost all my money playing poker. Some thugs picked a fight with me on my way back, but I was really pissed off, so I trashed their gang and took everything they had, but I was still in the red. You could say I ended up breaking even ’cause I got some booze and smokes out of it. Or maybe not. The booze was cheap, watered-down stuff, after all.” “That’s one crazy week.” She’d taken down the thugs, but the woman was practically a thug herself. She had no stable employment and spent most of her days either drinking or smoking in this very room, gambling her money away, or shaking down thugs. On paper, she was hopeless—and she was actually the most self-indulgent person Norman knew. Yet, somehow, Lonsday looked oddly picturesque, smoking and drinking on the ruined sofa. It might have been because there was no despair in her, that there was a decadent beauty to it, and she was basically a woman who looked good no matter what she did. “If you’re used to drinking rubbing alcohol, of course normal liquor would taste weak.” “That’s the only stuff that gets me drunk. Oh, but the cigs were good. Homemade. I liked them, so I ordered the thugs to get me some every week. I just finished the last of ’em.” “Huh. It’s rare for a heavy smoker like you to let herself run out.” “Did I, though? I figured you’d be coming today.” She sniffed disdainfully and took a deep drag from the cigarettes Norman had bought. Then she turned her eyes to the newspapers that had been on the table since Norman arrived. There were five copies, each with a different date. “Four incidents this month, all unsolved. The cops might be incompetent, but they do their jobs. If they still can’t crack these cases, then that means they’re something no normal investigation can solve. And the fifth warning was put out yesterday, so it was obvious you’d be sent my way.” “…You’re sharp as ever.” “Elementary, my dear assistant,” Lonsday said. “…” Norman wondered if she could have chosen a better moment to say that. Maybe the phrase was in vogue. “Well, that’s about the size of it. It’s the perfect case for you, Miss Lonsday. We’re dealing with a phantom thief, you know.” “Pfft, what a joke of a title.” “Are you sure it’s your place to say that with your joke of a job?” “What’s your point?” Backing down, Norman took the file from his coat draped over the chair, but Lonsday opened her mouth before Norman could speak: “Each time he’s left a warning: the phantom thief’s stolen relics and works of art from antique shops, museums, libraries, and even Bardium City Hall. The first antique shop dismissed it as a prank and got taken to the cleaners. After that, the police tightened security with every warning, but that did no good. They’ve seen the thief’s shadow, but this guy’s hit every target. I need more information than that.” She narrowed her emerald-green eyes and jabbed her slender finger at Norman. “Come on, bring it out. You have it, don’t you?” Her shapely lips curved into the smile of a hunter spotting its prey. Like always, she saw through everything. He handed her the envelope sandwiched in the file. “Huh, even I’ve never seen one of these before. A warning letter… Nice.” It was a black envelope sealed with red wax, the seal already broken. “The detective pulled a lot of strings under my sister’s orders to get ahold of this, so take good care of it.” “It’s his job to pull strings… Hmm.” Lonsday didn’t open the envelope immediately. She turned it over, felt its texture, and smelled it. “It’s high-quality. You can’t buy this in Bardium. It’s from Portquarry.” Portquarry was the name of a city a few hours away from Bardium by train. It was a port city facing the sea, a commercial center connected to many other cities by train. As a major city filled with goods both foreign and domestic, its selection far outclassed Bardium. “Looks like stationery from a specialty store in Portquarry. The wax, too.” “Excellent… Hmm…” She gave a small nod and opened the envelope, revealing a white sheet of paper folded in two. Each of the four corners had a distinctive quill pen emblem, which was apparently the store’s trademark. Of course, opened, it contained the warning. On the coming night of the full moon, I shall take the Blood Diamond from the Bardium Museum. I look forward to your best efforts. Phantom Thief Thistle Phantom Thief Thistle. The thief who currently had the city—to be precise, the wealthy and gossip lovers in it—on the edge of their seats. And the night of the full moon was tomorrow. “Apparently, the jewel’s worth three hundred thousand stel. Worth a lot to the Bardium Museum.” “It would sell for ten times that to a collector. At auction, the price would skyrocket. I see, the first four warnings were demonstrations. The real target is this…” Nodding, Lonsday flipped the letter just like she had the envelope, sniffed it, and ran her fingers over the letters to check the texture. Norman watched as she did it—her jade-green eyes narrowed, but the smile never left her lips. “Can you tell anything?” “The culprit is a woman but not some noble-minded thief who robs the rich to feed the poor. She’s smart, mocking both the cops and the museum. She’s vain, arrogant, and looks down on others. She’s hard-working and meticulous. In her twenties or thirties. She visited Portquarry last spring but now lives in Bardium. She’s either a Deviation or Distortion Type Unlaw.” Norman barely contained his surprise at the torrent of words. “…And what makes you think that?” “Hey now, put some thought into it.” She smirked and rose, putting out her cigarette in the ashtray. She threw the jacket draped over the sofa over her shoulders, then flicked the warning letter at Norman with a two-fingered snap. Sure enough, he caught it between his palms. “What do we do?” “Obviously, we head for the museum. Now this is getting exciting!” Just when Norman thought she was being serious for once, she hopped nimbly and pumped her fist—he shrugged. Careless as ever. He knew it would turn out like this. Lonsday Enhancedia had no stable income, but she did have short windfalls. She was a detective by trade. “Let’s go, Norman. Detective versus thief… Who will emerge victorious? Or maybe this is more like a battle of wits between two monsters! Oooh, this is gonna be a blast.” Lonsday swaggered confidently through the heart of Bardium on her long, jaunty legs, with Norman beside her, of course. “That stationery paper was limited edition, sold for about a month last year by a specialty store in Portquarry called Prince/Princess. It was made to commemorate the overlapping twentieth birthday of Princess Viira and the store’s twentieth anniversary,” she said while puffing on a cigarette. “It was a trend among young nobles and wealthy ladies in Portquarry to use it for love letters.” “That’s why it’s a woman in her twenties or thirties?” “No, there are other reasons I think it’s a woman. She’s probably in her early twenties, though there are some women in their late thirties who try to act like young girls. Super cringe. The older people get, the more their tastes tend to stagnate. If she were past her mid-thirties, she’d probably use a classic style, not some limited edition.” Her words were scathing. “Where does that put you, Miss Lonsday? A lady, a girl, a woman?” “I’m a beauty.” “No arguments there. In that case, couldn’t we just say she’s in her early twenties?” “If the stationery were the only factor, sure. I’ll explain later. I’m not trying to be mysterious, just following the right order. As for the materials, the ink is from Bardium. You can tell by the gloss and luster on the letters and how the ink bleeds. So she bought the stationery in Portquarry but the ink locally, which means she uses ink habitually.” “Okay, that narrows down her profession to…anything. There are plenty of jobs where you’d use ink regularly.” “Well, yeah. That’s why I didn’t mention it earlier.” “Okay. So what about her personality? Is she doing it for greed or vanity—?” “She’s driven by greed. She’s not some noble-minded thief who robs the rich to feed the poor. She’s smart, mocking both the cops and the museum. She’s vain, arrogant, and looks down on others. She’s hard-working and meticulous.” Lonsday repeated what she had said earlier, briefly and precisely. “It’s obvious. Calling herself a phantom thief with lines like, ‘I look forward to your best efforts’? That’s only meant to provoke the police and the museum. A real bleeding heart would target something else, like a noble’s hidden stash.” “Definitely. It’s a huge risk no matter how you look at it.” “Her meticulousness shows in the condition of the stationery. She must have kept it carefully sealed until recently since she bought it a year ago. I don’t know why she just got started, but it’s clear she had a plan all along. That’s what I mean when I say the ink is deliberate.” “Um…what if she just bought it, forgot about it, and then remembered it again when she decided to be a thief?” “Boring… Don’t look at me like that. This is a person who does very elaborate things and prepares thoroughly, you know? If she’s doing something as risky as sending a warning, there’s a reason behind it. Next is what’s actually written.” “Hmm, like the handwriting?” “To be more exact, I didn’t mention this before since you can fake it, but the culprit is ambidextrous.” “What…? You can tell from her handwriting?” Lonsday laughed like she was having fun. “She has beautiful penmanship, but if you look closely, the ink bleed is slightly different on every other character. The same goes for the pen impressions on the back. There’s a pattern: Odd and even letters have different stroke endings. The even-numbered letters were written with slightly more pressure and ink bleed. In other words, the even letters were written with her non-dominant hand, and the odd ones with her dominant. You’d only notice by staring hard and tracing the reverse side like I did, so even if the culprit were right in front of you, you probably wouldn’t notice. They probably only use one hand in daily life.” “…Why go to all that trouble?” Just thinking about it made Norman’s head hurt. Did the phantom thief really take the time to switch hands every letter? “Because she enjoys it. Just like I love solving a good mystery.” Lonsday’s smile grew even wider. “The stationery, including the envelope, is packed with info about the culprit. It’s practically screaming ‘Notice me.’ If she’s capable of putting in that much detail, then not including anything at all would have been just as easy. Yet she sent a warning. In summary, she meant what she said. ‘I look forward to your best efforts.’” Lonsday smirked broadly, alarming passersby who gave them a wide berth when they noticed her ghastly smile, but she paid them no mind. It had been a long time since Norman saw Lonsday enjoy herself so much. She was always chatty, but this was over a single envelope. He tried to imagine what would happen next, but she would probably blow his expectations out of the water. Not that he minded. “Norman, I’m thirsty. Booze me.” “Yes, ma’am.” He took out a hip flask of rubbing alcohol from his coat and passed it to her. A normal person would probably keel over from drinking it, but she was no normal person. That wasn’t just because of her powers of deduction—it was her very existence. Norman laughed. “What about her Unlaw abilities?” “That’s more your wheelhouse than mine. But if you want to hear my beautiful voice, just say so.” “Oh please, I’d love to hear your beautiful voice and your clever deductions, Miss Lonsday.” “Very well. If I were in the phantom thief’s shoes, I’d do the exact same thing. My personality’s pretty unhinged, after all.” “……” He hadn’t asked about that part. “Even that bratty Fairy could pull off something like this, though she’d probably make it even more vicious. That shut-in Tear Blossom and that hypocritical, goody-two-shoes Hellhound wouldn’t. That’s the difference.” “…I’m invoking my right to remain silent.” “If you’re going to call counsel, make it me. I’d say the crime is toying with a lady’s heart.” “That’s a flattering charge. Though…can defense attorneys decide the crime?” “I am the law. Relax. My verdict is guilty yet innocent.” Lonsday laughed, and Norman shrugged. “But you have made deductions about Unlaw before, haven’t you, Miss Lonsday?” Not that he really understood them. Anyway, Unlaw existed. If something existed, it could be observed. If it could be observed, then it could be deduced—she’d said so before, and he’d seen her make deductions in practice many times. It was a hopeful remark on his part, but Lonsday only met him with a shrug. Whenever Norman tried to deduce something, he just looked sloppy—but when Lonsday did it, she elevated it to an art form. “I hate tossing out hunches without the facts to back them up.” She stopped short with a click, and Norman automatically did the same. In front of them stood the Bardium Museum, where the phantom thief was set to strike tomorrow night. “The culprit might just be an ordinary person. No, let me revise that, an exceedingly clever and evil person. If they’re an Unlaw… Let’s see. What about the ability to freeze time? That would explain a lot about the incidents, wouldn’t it?” “I thought you hated tossing out hunches?” “Heh-heh.” “…You seem like you’re having fun.” “Is that how it looks?” “Well, kind of.” “Heh. This isn’t some novel but an honest-to-goodness phantom thief in the flesh. I’ve always wanted to face one.” The enthusiasm was a little unusual for her. She was normally chatty when it came to deductions, but Norman had never seen her crack jokes or jump around like she had earlier. Well, she was enthusiastic, at least—though he was worried she might be pushing herself. Harrison stood at the entrance to the museum, favoring them with a gloomy expression. “One last thing to confirm, Norman. Do we prioritize the phantom thief or the treasure? Do we let the culprit live or kill them?” “For now, priority goes to Miss Lonsday’s life. I’d rather keep them alive, but if Miss Lonsday is going to die, it’s okay to kill them.” She flashed her brightest smile of the day at him. “Then let’s start the investigation with that plan in mind.” “…Enhance, huh?” The moment Harrison caught sight of Lonsday’s face, he turned even more surly than usual, muttering bitterly as he entered the museum without bothering to greet anyone, a somewhat thick file in one hand. It was clear that he didn’t want to talk much. The museum’s interior was filled with tension from a few guards and police officers. It was eerily quiet, the museum being shut down today and tomorrow because of the warning. With the date of the crime drawing near, the security guards were on edge, keeping a watchful eye on everything. It honestly seemed like a fruitless effort, but the police couldn’t exactly abandon their duty. “What’s the plan?” “Um…Miss Lonsday?” “I want to see where the diamond is kept and where the necklace that was stolen the first time was displayed. And Harrison, do you have a floor plan for this museum?” “I do.” “Good.” According to the floor plan Harrison gave them, the museum had three floors: one basement and two floors above ground. The basement floor held areas used by staff, like the vaults and offices, and the above-ground floors were mostly for exhibitions. “Make sure to give it back.” “I’ve already memorized it, so I don’t need it anymore. Let’s go, Norman.” Lonsday returned the floor plan with a careless gesture and began walking—a beautiful woman striding boldly, her steps echoing in the quiet halls. The security guards and police officers watched with some surprise, but since they didn’t try to stop her, Harrison must have arranged things in advance. “…Sigh. This is giving me a headache. Busting our asses to protect a cursed diamond.” “Even with the curse, it’s probably worth enough to justify it.” The first place they headed was the location where the first necklace was stolen from: the exhibition space on the first floor. The museum was laid out as a series of small rooms that followed a route, and that particular spot didn’t seem to be a priority—it wasn’t the museum’s showpiece, and a visitor strolling through would probably miss it. There was a bench in the center of the small room, and display cases lined the walls, but there was nothing special to mention. Maybe Lonsday would see it differently. But she surveyed the room for a few seconds and said, “That’s enough. Next.” They walked briskly along the route and went straight up to the second floor. The Blood Diamond Ring exhibit, which had brought Norman and Lonsday there, was in a completely different spot than the first necklace. The ring was at the very end of the route, kept in a glass case at the center of the museum’s largest room. The diamond was large, about the size of a coin—it sparkled under the lights even from a distance. Despite the name “Blood Diamond,” it wasn’t red at all, but it shined with a transparent brilliance. Several people milled around the display: a pair who were obviously police at a glance, an elderly man in an expensive suit, a middle-aged man in work clothes, a kind-looking older lady, a woman with striking, almond-shaped eyes, and a cute girl wearing round-framed eyeglasses. Harrison frowned at the crowd around the display case and stepped forward. “Hey…Oliver, what’s the meaning of this? You’re in our way.” “Oh, Leonard.” The middle-aged man he’d addressed glowered at Harrison. He had a stocky build, a tough-looking face, and thinning hair. He glared again at Harrison, then Norman and Lonsday in turn, lingering on her the longest to thoroughly express his animosity. “You’re the ones in our way. You people might have your agendas, but we have museum security to worry about. We can’t have you thoughtlessly running all over the place…especially you, Miss Playing Detective.” “You’re as stubborn as ever, Inspector Oliver,” Lonsday replied in an uncharacteristically polite tone. He was an inspector from the Bardium precinct, a stubborn man who lived for fieldwork. His suit was of decent quality, and though his tough face didn’t suggest it, he kept a surprisingly clean appearance—normally. Today, he seemed oddly exhausted. Technically, as an inspector, he outranked Harrison, but the situation was complicated. Collaborating with Cartesius gave him authority and influence beyond the normal bounds of police jurisdiction. That allowed him to share materials from Unlaw cases with Norman and even bring him to crime scenes. Normally, Norman only got involved after the police had investigated and thrown in the towel, so it was rare for them to cross paths—but it did happen occasionally. Even if it had been cleared with the organization, the police didn’t like anyone meddling at the scene. “That stubbornness is why your wife ran out on you. You can spoil your dog or eat your favorite foods out of loneliness, but she won’t come back unless you apologize and admit you were wrong.” “…Mind your own business,” Inspector Oliver replied bitterly, despite having had his personal life casually exposed. “What?! How do you know about the inspector’s wife and daughter leaving?!” “That’s enough of—” “Just look at the man. I last saw Inspector Oliver two weeks ago, and he’s put on weight since then. He probably gained it fast. Look at his belt. It’s two notches looser. He loves being active in the field, so it’s not a lack of physical activity. It’s weight gain from stress-eating. If a man who can’t cook puts on weight fast from overeating, fish and chips is a safe bet. “The wedding ring on his left hand is very shiny, probably all that sentimental fiddling leaving it polished with finger grease. What’s more, Inspector Oliver always wore high-quality, well-maintained suits before this. He’s the classic sexist, domineering husband, so his wife probably had to do everything, including picking out his clothes. But today, he looks pretty scruffy. There are fresh and old stains of oil and ketchup on his collar and sleeves. It’s expected of him to have a proper outfit, but he clearly hasn’t washed or ironed anything properly. There are dog hairs on his pant cuffs. Probably a small dog, judging from the location of the hairs. He can’t be bothered to do laundry or clean around the house, but his dog gets some attention, at least. He has energy to play with the dog, but he can’t clean or do laundry. To sum it up, he’s too exhausted to take care of himself after his wife left, and he’s turning to binge-eating fish and chips. His wife finally had enough of him and left. Any objections?” “…I do the laundry.” “Probably with a random detergent. Looks like you’ve never heard of stain removal, either.” A chilly silence fell. They appraised her with a mix of wonder and a hint of fear. Inspector Oliver was expressing the maximum amount of bitterness a human could possibly convey. “Now then, everyone.” She clapped her hands, attracting everyone’s attention with the theatrical gesture. Lonsday had somehow become the main attraction of the room meant to house the main attraction: the Blood Diamond. “As you’ve all probably realized, I’m Lonsday Enhancedia, a detective. I was invited here as an advisor for the phantom thief case. I only have a few questions to ask, so rest assured that I’m not suspecting any of you…yet.” “That was a terrible thing you did to Inspector Oliver.” “It was for dramatic effect.” They were outside the museum. Lonsday looked bored, her right hand shoved into her pocket, letting the ash from her cigarette fall from her left hand as she muttered, “I’m an outsider, and the police don’t like me. If I hadn’t dominated the room like that, I wouldn’t have gotten anything out of them.” “I see. But was that really enough to go on?” Because— “All you did was shake hands with everyone.” Indeed, she’d greeted everyone there—except for Inspector Oliver—by shaking hands. Norman had expected her to begin questioning them after that, but Lonsday claimed she suddenly remembered something she had to do and immediately left the museum. Neither Harrison nor Inspector Oliver had followed her. Even Norman was unsure about this. “Oh…because I figured out the identity of the phantom thief.” “Oh, I see—Huh?! What did you just say?!” “I’ve figured out who the phantom thief is, so there was no need to ask them anything. Plus, they provoked me.” “Huh…?! All you did was shake their hands.” “Yep, that’s right. Utterly boring.” “You figured it out just from deducing the envelope and a handshake?” “The deduction went nowhere, and that pisses me off.” “Huh…” He still had one question. “Mind if I ask who it is?” “Who cares who it is?” Lonsday took a long drag of her cigarette and exhaled. “What a buzzkill.” She tossed out the words carelessly. “Just have Fairy handle it. That one’ll ruin their plans in the worst way possible.”
Chapter 12
24 min read