"I'm back," Charlotte announced, rubbing her aching shoulders and legs.
Good heavens, she wondered, where did Miss Navia and Officer Chevreuse get the stamina to keep up with White Cat? Even I, a journalist who's always hiking and trekking, can barely stand!
Moreover, the events in the Third District had been utterly mind-boggling, and she still hadn't fully recovered from the shock.
"Oh, you're back. How was work?" Charlotte's mother asked casually.
Charlotte pulled out a chair and collapsed onto the table. "I'm dying."
"That exhausting?" her mother exclaimed in surprise.
"I sprinted non-stop from one end of the city to the other, and then to another! I can't even feel my legs anymore!"
Her father scratched his head. "You were covering the Phantom Thief's activities, right? You weren't hurt, were you?"
When Charlotte had first mentioned the Phantom Thief coming to her door, her parents' faces had gone deathly pale with fear. Once a Phantom Thief crossed the line of the Law, no one was safe. Fortunately, Charlotte had stammered that nothing had happened, and a check revealed no injuries. Her parents dismissed it as mere shock.
Still, it took something truly extraordinary to frighten Charlotte.
Charlotte's greatest strength wasn't her photography skills, but her fearless attitude.
"No, no! It seems the Phantom Thief was the one who got hurt," she said.
"Did Lady Furina do that?" her mother asked.
Charlotte waved her hand dismissively. "The Captain of the Special Task Force."
"...But doesn't she always get outsmarted by the Phantom Thief?"
"Well, maybe her luck's finally turned around..."
Charlotte slumped back onto the table, pulling out the photos she'd taken and recounting the day's events to her parents.
"She's definitely a dangerous character," her mother said, shaking her head.
"..."
Her father, however, remained uncharacteristically silent.
Charlotte turned to him, curious. "Dad, what's wrong? Why aren't you saying anything?"
"Nothing. I just don't think she's that kind of person."
Her father, Galanopoulo, was also a journalist, though he specialized in wildlife ecology while she investigated various incidents. While he never admitted to having a particularly sharp eye, any seasoned journalist could instinctively pick up on subtle inconsistencies.
"What makes you say that?" Charlotte sat up, intrigued.
"Looking at her past actions, it's clear she has a strong moral compass. Despite her immense power, she adheres to a strict code of conduct. Her inner strength must be equally formidable..."
Charlotte folded her arms and nodded. "Indeed, Captain Chevreuse told me the truth earlier."
That night, the Phantom Thief had specifically sought her out to reveal half the truth. After hearing Captain Chevreuse's full account of the incident, Charlotte concluded that the Phantom Thief intended to use the media frenzy to draw everyone's attention—including the rats lurking in the shadows.
Whether the Phantom Thief's motives stemmed from a genuine sense of justice or something else entirely remained unclear. But objectively speaking, her actions were undeniably righteous.
"People lie," Charlotte murmured. "They always lie. A Kamera can capture their faces, but its lens can't pierce their hearts."
"Perhaps she wants to hide her true intentions behind a mask," Galanopoulo suggested, setting down the photograph. "Of course, that's just my theory. No one can truly understand what a cat is thinking."
Charlotte silently slid the photograph toward herself.
Her mother, washing dishes nearby, chimed in, "If you can't figure it out, why not try reversing your perspective? That's what they always say in those recent mystery novels, right?"
Reverse my perspective? Charlotte pondered.
Instead of obsessing over the Phantom Thief's motives, she should consider who stood to benefit from this outcome and who would suffer the consequences.
"Ah!"
The Court of Justice is the beneficiary!
Did the Phantom Thief White Cat do all this for the Court of Justice? This...
"This is even more confusing now!" Charlotte exclaimed, clutching her hair.
-
Furina returned to her bedroom, closed the door, and leaned against it.
She stared blankly at the floor for a moment before finally moving. She casually tossed her hat onto the table and then collapsed onto the bed with a heavy thud.
Her body felt unbearably heavy, as if she couldn't even lift a finger. Yet her mind remained disturbingly clear.
"How is White Cat now..." Furina murmured involuntarily.
Bang! The sound of that gunshot still echoed in her ears.
Then came the crimson bloom, like a flower unfolding in blood. The once-pristine white and gold of White Cat's attire had been stained scarlet, the vivid red a shocking contrast.
Chevreuse had simply done what she had to do.
Furina understood that perfectly well.
The Phantom Thief was the one at fault.
She knew that too.
Even if everything the Phantom Thief White Cat had done was nothing more than a staged performance—a drama that had fooled everyone.
The Sinners' End—a bullet that tore through flesh.
Every time she replayed that scene in her mind, Furina felt her fingertips grow cold. She didn't want the Phantom Thief White Cat to be hurt, nor did she wish harm upon anyone else.
The story ended like this.
"And I couldn't even..."
She couldn't even bring herself to ask, "Are you alright?"
To maintain her role as Focalors, she had to publicly condemn Phantom Thief White Cat.
Of course, she needed to keep her distance from the Phantom Thief, but...
"I'm so pathetic," Furina muttered, burying her face in her pillow.
Did the Phantom Thief see her as cold and heartless?
"But even so, I have to keep going, right?"
For the future of Fontaine and the lives of everyone.
Furina clutched the pillow tighter, pressing her face deeper into its softness. Her muffled voice carried a hint of desperation: "When will this charade end? When will I stop trampling on precious memories?"
When would the final Judgment she had promised in the mirror finally arrive?
Furina felt her thoughts growing rigid and numb, yet still painfully clear, as if her consciousness were trapped in a prison of its own making.
She turned her head and glanced at the clock.
If only time could rewind to that day—back to the beach, with the aroma of grilled fish, the gentle sea breeze, and the smile hidden beneath her mask.
But that was impossible.
Furina slowly closed her eyes, knowing she was destined for another sleepless night.
No matter what, tomorrow would come, and she would still be Focalors.
"This is the information we've gathered, Captain. What do you make of it?" Turenna asked.
Chevreuse suppressed the trembling in her fingertips and replied casually, "It's exactly what she would do. I'll include it in the report. You've all worked hard; go get some rest."
Turenna hesitated. "Um, I heard you hit the Phantom Thief, Captain..."
Chevreuse remained silent.
Turenna scratched her cheek awkwardly. "Everyone's been praising you. They might even send someone from headquarters to commend you tomorrow..."
After all, this incident had salvaged the Court of Justice's reputation.
Furina was an Archon, not inherently part of their organization's strength. But the Special Task Force was, and they could certainly capitalize on this opportunity for public acclaim.
However, those familiar with Chevreuse could tell their captain was in a foul mood.
Despite having hit the notorious Phantom Thief.
Of course, it was undeniably Furina who had ultimately defeated the thief.
Chevreuse sighed. "Go get some rest."
"Yes, Captain!" Turenna saluted crisply and hurried away.
After bidding farewell to her team, Chevreuse returned to her quarters.
She raised her hand, and the moment she recalled the recent events, her fingertips began to tremble uncontrollably.
Did I actually hit her? Chevreuse couldn't be sure.
Her mind told her that the Phantom Thief White Cat was cunning beyond measure, incapable of devising a plan that would harm herself. This was likely just a ruse, a feigned injury to deceive everyone.
But her body clearly had other ideas.
Her trembling fingertips were proof enough.
"Why?" Chevreuse murmured to herself.
Why would White Cat do something like this?
And why was her own body reacting so strongly?
My goal is to capture her, to drag her to the Judgment arena... Chevreuse gritted her teeth. An answer surfaced unbidden in her mind, but she swiftly suppressed it.
"...It's impossible that I'm worried about her," she exhaled deeply.
Just sleep. Tomorrow will likely bring a mountain of problems.
She flicked the switch, plunging the room into darkness. Chevreuse lay down, closing her eyes.
...But sleep wouldn't come.
-
Meanwhile, at Spina di Rosula headquarters, Navia stared silently at her palm.
"...Can't sleep," she murmured.
Elsewhere, Clorinde knew it was all just a performance by the Phantom Thief White Cat, but she couldn't fathom why White Cat would go to such lengths.
Phantom Thief White Cat's request—to dream of her—was equally difficult.
"How can I dream if I can't even sleep?"
The demand was simply too much to ask.