Chapter 5
Among them, one page really did contain my eyewitness account. Of all times, it just had to be when I went to deliver the warning letter that a sudden mission popped up, and because of the weird stunt I pulled, I ended up drawing attention.
‘Put on a tyrannosaurus costume and weep, calling the tyrannosaurus fossil your father.’
Seriously? What if I got arrested and joined the dead? Anyway, that’s why I burned and threw away one of the notes.
But if just one page disappeared, it would look suspicious. It might even make it easier for them to recall the missing contents.
So, as a distraction, I got rid of two more pages.
Truthfully, the reason I bothered to get a job inside the tiger’s den that was out to eat me wasn’t for money, but to interfere with their investigation.
But achieving that goal turned out to be harder than I expected. All because of that relentless man.
“Smith says he handed all ten pages to Miss Kent. So who’s lying?”
Hunt was a man without blood or tears—pretending to be clueless or pitiful never worked on him.
“As an investigator, my gut tells me Claire isn’t the one lying.”
But it worked just fine on the man who suddenly cut in. Inspector Wesson—the second-in-command of the Special Investigations Unit.
“Maybe it’s like last time, when Smith tripped, spilled coffee, and destroyed the evidence?”
“It wasn’t me!”
From the back of the office, the youngest officer in a navy uniform shouted, a coffee mug still in his hand.
“I swear on my grandmother’s life!”
To swear on a beloved grandmother—he must have been really desperate.
Smith did have the right to feel wronged. The only reason he’d spilled coffee on evidence three months ago and ruined it… was because I’d tripped him.
Sergeant Smith, the youngest of the unit, was clumsy by nature. Thanks to that, without even knowing it, he’d become my regular accomplice in destroying evidence.
In return, as thanks and compensation, I always made sure the breakroom was fully stocked with his favorite coffee and snacks.
“Which part disappeared? I’ll send Smith to the museum to take the witness statement again, Chief.”
Even so, memories that faded after a few days were never as accurate as the first time.
Anyway, since Wesson stepped in to smooth things over, I joined in.
“Just in case, I’ll take another look at myself.”
Though, of course, nothing would come up.
Hunt alternated between looking at Wesson, who wore a confident smile, and me, with my downcast eyes.
“Do that.”
With that brief order, he handed the file over to Wesson, then finally lifted his feet from the spot he’d been rooted to. And then—he started walking toward me.
‘Huh? That’s way too close.’
This was a man who treated everyone else like they carried the plague, always keeping a set distance. Yet now, he brushed right past me.
As he passed, he was so close that our arms brushed.
“Ah!”
When I turned, I saw that the spotless navy sleeve of his uniform was now covered with cat hair.
“Chief!”
I grabbed Hunt’s arm in a hurry.
“You’ve got cat hair on your clothes. Let me take it off for you—”
“Stop.”
Hunt sharply yanked his arm away, narrowing his eyes as if in distaste—as though I might infect him just by touching him.
‘Ugh, that jerk.’
No need to be nice to him.
I glared at his annoyingly handsome back as it receded, and from behind me Wesson offered words of comfort.
“It’s not your fault, Claire. The Chief’s just in a bad mood today.”
“Did something happen?”
“Yesterday, he caught the Thief Crow, only to let her slip away.”
“Ah…”
Of course I already knew, but I pretended it was news to me.
“And then, in the end, the ‘Scarlet Queen’s Heart’ was stolen too.”
“What?”
This time, I didn’t need to pretend I was hearing it for the first time.
The “Scarlet Queen’s Heart” was a fist-sized, heart-shaped ruby owned by a royal family across the sea. Its value, as the largest and most precious ruby in the world, was astronomical.
Of course, there’s no way Gemma Steel wouldn’t know of such a jewel. But this was the first I’d heard of it being stolen.
“By who?”
“Who else? The Thief Crow, of course.”
Huh? But I didn’t steal it.
I will steal the Scarlet Queen’s Heart on the night of the gala.
Sure, I sent out a notice like that, but my actual target was an opal called the “Cat’s Eye.”
That whole thing was just a ruse to draw the police and security forces from the permanent exhibit (where the opal was) to the special exhibit (where the ruby was).
The plan was simple: misdirect everyone, and then casually walk off with my real prize.
“Found you here, after all.”
Only… in the middle of it all, Hunt—that bloodhound of a man who was more of a police dog than any actual police dog—caught wind of something suspicious.
But it seems the part where I stole the Cat’s Eye has been buried. Well, considering I replaced it with a flawless fake, it’ll take time before anyone notices.
‘So does that mean I don’t get any bonus notoriety points?’
Wesson seemed to seriously misinterpret my sulky expression.
“I feel sick just thinking about it. We borrowed that jewel with such difficulty, only to have it stolen. The presidential palace, the foreign ministry—everyone’s been thrown into chaos.”
“I can imagine.”
“The only ones who enjoyed themselves were the gala’s guests. To think they were in the same room as the beautiful phantom thief—now they’ve got a story to brag about.”
“Well, I guess that’s true.”
“All because of one woman, several people are about to be disciplined. Hah…”
“……”
This time, I was genuinely wronged.
It wasn’t me. I don’t take missions that cause mass collateral damage. I’d rather take a loss myself.
Besides, the Scarlet Queen’s Heart didn’t even show up in my mission window.
‘So who did it?’
Since the notice had already been made public in the press, anyone could’ve guessed I’d show up that night.
Someone piggybacked on the scheme I set up, stole an unbelievably valuable jewel, and pinned the whole thing squarely on me.
The investigation would focus on me alone, leaving the real culprit completely off the radar.
‘Pretty clever.’
And gutsy too—T. rex–sized guts. How on earth did they smuggle out something that big right under everyone’s noses?
“…Huh?”
Then suddenly, I recalled what I’d seen yesterday when passing by the display where the Scarlet Queen’s Heart had been.
‘No way. That person? Why would they…’
I quickly shook off the flimsy suspicion and turned to my real problem.
‘Do I need to clear up this misunderstanding?’
But even if I insisted I didn’t steal it, who would believe me? After all, I loudly declared I would, and I was right there on the day it disappeared.
Ding!
[You have gained 1 bonus notoriety point!]
Wait.
If I don’t clear it up, it actually works to my advantage.
Visitors in the police headquarters lobby and officers at their desks all had the morning paper in hand. On the front page, in bold headlines, was the news that I had stolen the Scarlet Queen’s Heart.
[You have gained 1 bonus notoriety point!]
[You have gained 1 bonus notoriety point!]
As my infamy as a criminal rises, I earn bonus notoriety points.
[The Tuna Dismantling Gang fears you.]
[The government of Eden City despises you.]
[The Moléone Family respects your skills.]
And so, the favorability of organizations—whether government agencies or crime syndicates—fluctuates depending on my deeds.
Dding-ding, dding-ding, dding-dirooong.
The notifications rang so incessantly I could barely hear people’s voices.
‘Turn off notifications.’
At last, when the system fell silent, I asked,
‘How many points are left until Level 10?’
[4,378,977 points remaining.]
‘Uh… how many have I collected since last night?’
[100 points.]
Already a hundred bonus notoriety points—quite a nice haul.
‘They probably won’t catch the real culprit, right?’
It would be nice if they did, but also… not nice. They might make me cough up my bonus points.
‘Guess I’ll just get caught after I see the good ending.’
This world didn’t even have CCTV, let alone color TV. Proper forensic science like DNA testing? Of course not. I decided to just trust in that fact.
* * *
At the same time, in the Special Investigations Chief’s office.
Raven pulled out a crime-solving tool from the drawer. A tool whose effectiveness had been proven over thousands of years, carried like an extension of the body by the greatest investigators and detectives in history.
A magnifying glass.
Beneath its convex lens lay neatly arranged cat hairs, sorted by color.
Last night, after failing to capture the phantom thief, he had found cat hairs stuck to his own hand and the edge of his sleeve. No doubt they’d come off when he grabbed the woman’s ankle.
Come to think of it, this wasn’t the first time cat hair had been discovered at a crime scene.
‘So… does that woman keep a cat?’
Black, orange, white, brown, gray—fur of every color, and all different lengths. Either she had a calico cat, or she was keeping several cats.
As he mulled this over, pacing around the office, his eyes fell on something else: a sweater covered in cat hair of all colors and lengths.
Naturally, suspicion fell on the woman wearing it.
