Chapter 10
Chapter 10
'Is this the dressing room?'
There wasn't a soul to be seen in this space that needed such tight security.
'It's not a trap, is it?'
Even so, I couldn't just not go in. As long as my target was there, I had to take a step inside.
Whether someone jumped out or a net suddenly fell on me. If I didn't know what the trap was, how could I know how to escape?
'Inventory.'
Standing on the dressing room windowsill, I took something out of my Inventory.
It was the Rose Caliber.
This item, with its rose pattern gorgeously engraved on the blade, was an invincible kitchen knife that would become a legend decades from now.
'Even tempered glass, slice!'
A hole, big enough for me to pass through with ease, instantly appeared in the floor-to-ceiling window. I carefully laid the cut glass onto the dressing room floor and went inside.
"……."
I could hear the sound of wind pouring in roughly through the gaping window, but nothing attacked me.
'This is really strange.'
There was no way the police would have left this room empty.
'Should I turn on the light?'
In the dark room, the only light visible to my eyes was the green marker.
If I turned on the room's light, I'd be discovered, so just as I was about to take a flashlight from my Inventory.
The beam of a searchlight swept across the room. In that instant, I held my breath.
"You're late."
A husky female voice coincided with the click of a switch. Immediately, my vision brightened.
The light came on from a desk lamp beneath the safe installed on the wall. An elderly lady was sitting in the armchair next to it.
It was Mrs. Doris Hunt, whom I knew well from newspapers and magazines.
"An old woman should go to bed early. So, next time, please come a little earlier."
She had been waiting for me.
"Where should I sign?"
I asked, taking out the red lipstick I used for writing my calling cards from my Inventory.
I didn't understand it, but I had a fan club.
'Beautiful thief, please return the heart you stole ♡'
Didn't they post fan letters in newspaper ads? Didn't they make pilgrimages to my crime scenes, calling them sacred grounds?
Sometimes, the owner of the item I was about to steal was a fan, leading to situations like this where they'd wait by the safe.
'I guess that grandma is my fan too.'
...Though that was a mistake.
"A signature?"
The old lady chuckled.
"Rumors have been circulating that I've gone mad, but do I look like such a lunatic to you?"
"It's a relief you don't look like that much of a lunatic."
I acted haughty to hide my awkwardness. Then, closing the lipstick and putting it back in my pocket, I asked,
"Then, Mrs. Hunt, for what reason were you waiting for me?"
The old lady didn't answer, but opened the safe and took out a large black velvet box.
The moment the box opened, I was disappointed.
Before me was an expensive necklace, with several large emeralds surrounded by diamonds, hanging below a platinum diamond band.
Even though I clearly saw the green marker blinking, indicating that was the jewel I was supposed to steal today, I asked,
"Don't you have another emerald necklace? It's not a real emerald, but it only has one jewel and it's round..."
Mrs. Hunt shook her head.
'Right, a great magnate wouldn't have such a modest, fake emerald necklace.'
Mrs. Hunt looked at me with a puzzled expression, as if sensing my disappointment, and asked,
"Weren't you here to steal this?"
"That's right."
The system wanted this. It just wasn't the ruby necklace I was looking for.
"Then why are you personally showing it to me?"
That was the genuine article.
Sometimes, people would present me with elaborately made fakes and act as if they were begging for their lives.
But it was useless against me, who had the skill to distinguish between genuine and fake.
'But if it's not that, why are you showing me the real thing?'
As I watched with suspicion, the old lady held the box out towards me.
"I'll give you this, so..."
I immediately stepped back and waved my hand.
"You cannot give it to me."
It had to be acquired illegally; receiving it as a gift was legal.
Mrs. Hunt raised an eyebrow as if she'd heard the strangest thing, and placed the jewelry box on the table beside her.
"Fine. Then I won't try to catch you if you steal it, so listen to the story behind this necklace."
'...What kind of trap is this?'
As if reading my suspicion from my expression, Mrs. Hunt curled her lips.
"Humans become more talkative as they age. The only pleasure for those who have lived long enough is to grab young people and chatter about the past."
"Even if you're rich, you wouldn't pay for a necklace worth hundreds of thousands of dollars in exchange for listening to a story."
"Thieving Crow, not everything that glitters is diamond. To some, it might just be a stone."
The lady spoke, alluding to Gemma's line, "Everything that sparkles is mine."
"To be honest, this is a cursed object to me. But I can't get rid of it as I please. So, I'd be grateful if someone stole it."
What could the story be?
But wondering about it was a luxury. Faint footsteps could be heard from outside the bedroom door connected to the dressing room.
"Don't worry."
Sensing my concern, the old lady said, picking up a crystal bottle filled with golden liquid from the table.
"I detest the police. So I won't let them into my bedroom. You can trust me."
The lady poured a measure of brandy into a crystal glass, took a sip, and then asked me,
"Aren't you curious why I detest the police?"
I started to suspect the old lady might be a mind reader.
"You'll know once you hear my story."
"Alright. Please tell me."
If it was a trap, I could just snatch the necklace and escape. The lady began her story after emptying her brandy glass.
"This necklace is a family heirloom passed down to the eldest son's wife in the Hunt family."
I had expected a terrifying story upon hearing the words 'cursed necklace,' but what came from the old lady's lips was a heartbreaking tale.
"So, when my son got married, I passed it down to my daughter-in-law. That's how it left my hands."
Mrs. Hunt boasted about how wise, thoughtful, and beautiful the other 'Mrs. Hunt' was. And how happy her son and his wife seemed.
Her eyes, crinkled from smiling as she recounted the happy story, looked sad.
"But within a few years, it returned to my hands. That child died young. Along with my son."
The corners of the lady's mouth drooped and trembled slightly, then were pulled up tightly again, just like before.
"You know how it happened, so I won't bother saying it out loud."
They say talking about what everyone already knows is a waste of time, but perhaps it's because speaking it is actually painful.
I had read about the case of the young Mr. and Mrs. Hunt in a magazine feature article after my possession.
James Hunt II, the old lady's son, was a capable prosecutor. He was a brave young prosecutor at the forefront of the war on crime, dismantling criminal organizations that infested Eden City like pests.
He carried the hopes of the entire nation, not just this city.
And that vigorous crime crackdown ultimately cost him his life. When the gang leader he prosecuted was sentenced to death, the gang retaliated by firing their weapons at the car carrying him and his family.
The couple died instantly at the scene, but their three-year-old son, who was with them, vanished without a trace.
"A few days after the incident, a letter from the perpetrators arrived at the Police Bureau."
'The child is safe. If you release the boss, we'll return the child.'
That was the letter.
"The government wouldn't release the boss as they wished, and I didn't want that either."
"Why?"
"Because then my son's final efforts would have been in vain."
"Ah..."
"So, we made a very difficult compromise by offering money."
Of course, she had no intention of willingly handing over money that would become criminal funds. And the kidnappers wouldn't have any intention of returning the child willingly either.
So, under the guise of paying the ransom, she planned to track the criminals and rescue the child, but...
"Due to a foolish mistake by the police, they only took the ransom money and couldn't get the child back in the end."
