The Phantom Thieves of Hearts

"So sleepy—"

Tang Ze yawned in front of the mirror.

He felt drained, but still had to walk back to the cafe, then sneakily hide to cut out newspaper clippings for the calling card, and arrange for its delivery. All this had to be done without being exposed to Tooru Amuro, or his cover would be blown as soon as the news broke, and his venture would collapse before it even got started.

So, when the cafe closed, he watched Tooru Amuro leave with a look of relief.

Knowing someone else was more tired than him made him feel better.

In the mirror, the young man wore a double-breasted short tailcoat on his upper body and knee-length shorts on his lower body. The scarf around his neck floated behind him, defying gravity, creating a beautiful, season-confused look.

The most ridiculous part, however, was the mask.

"Is this even a mask?" Tang Ze leaned closer to the mirror and fiddled with it. "This is an eye patch, okay!"

The upper half of his face was covered by a flat, semicircular mask with no openings for his eyes.

What a cheap imitation of 9S.

He didn't know how it worked, but this mask—he'd grudgingly admit it was a mask—didn't obstruct his vision at all. Yet, from the outside, it looked like a smooth leather eye patch, as if someone had tied a blindfold over his eyes.

After studying the mask for a while, and then the gently floating scarf, Tang Ze finally deactivated his Phantom Thief form.

In short, he had a new skin that allowed him to change his appearance with a single click.

Being able to appear in his Phantom Thief outfit in the real world and covering his distinct eyes meant he essentially had a new alias.

Good things, all good things.

Tang Ze clasped his hands over his chest and fell asleep in a remarkably peaceful pose.

Now, there was only one thing left: he had to absolutely grill Lavenza in his dreams.

While Tang Ze was frolicking in his dreams, many others couldn't sleep.

On the street outside the Maru family mansion, passing residents whispered amongst themselves.

Due to the Maru family head's terrible personality, none of the neighbors dared to gather and watch, but the small cards plastered all over the Maru family's exterior wall and strewn across the street were too eye-catching.

The sound of faint chanting could be heard everywhere.

"You vile person of 'Greed,' Mr. Maru Denjirou." A woman passing by the alley approached a paper on the wall.

"You torment the suffering with money, trample on their dignity, and crush the treasures and hard work of others into dust. We know of all your shameless acts." A commuter, picking up a card, leaned closer to the text.

"Tomorrow, you will face the consequences for all your crimes." A servant, holding a card tremblingly, read it word for word. "We have accepted your twisted desires. Sincerely, The Phantom Thieves of Hearts."

"Bang!" Maru Denjirou slammed his fist on the table, splashing tea from his cup.

"Who did this?!" Although Maru Denjirou was over fifty, his roar was still full of vigor. "Tear down all this trash and smash it to pieces!"

"I don't know, Master." The male servant lowered his head, not daring to look at his flushed face. "The exterior walls are covered with these, and there are also some on the street. The entire block is littered with them..."

"What about the surveillance cameras? The security outside the door?!"

"The surveillance only captured a few children sticking them on the door. They said they picked them up on the street..."

Maru Denjirou's face turned ashen. He snatched three or four pieces of paper from the male servant's hand, crumpled them into a ball, and threw them at him. "Useless! Hurry up and clean them all up!"

"Yes!" The male servant didn't dare to delay and fled as if escaping.

Maru Denjirou panted heavily, sitting down by the table and glaring resentfully at the crumpled paper balls on the floor.

His wife, Maru Inako, sat on the other side, covering her smiling lips with her teacup, coldly watching his furious state.

Maru Inako had vaguely sensed his shady dealings.

Was there anything wrong with what was written on these papers?

The Maru Group's business was booming. Maru Denjirou wasn't short of a few hundred thousand yen, yet he always resorted to dirty tricks, as if earning this ill-gotten money satisfied him more.

"Alright, dear, perhaps someone is jealous of our recent business success and is spreading rumors to tarnish your reputation?" Madam Maru said with a fake smile. "It's all just arrogant nonsense, don't get angry."

Maru Denjirou glared at her hatefully. "What do you know? If these rumors get out, they'll damage the store's reputation! Never mind, why am I even talking to you about this."

This woman's recent behavior had become increasingly suspicious, and she seemed absent-minded at home. Maru Denjirou suspected she was having an affair and had hired a detective to investigate. Seeing her smiling face annoyed him.

Everything was useless trash. Maru Denjirou angrily got up and walked towards the storage room where his collectibles were kept.

Rather than absurd talk like "facing the consequences for all your crimes," he was more inclined to believe that this provocation, issued under the name of the "Phantom Thieves," was aimed at his collection.

Although the methods of collection might not have been entirely honorable, Maru Denjirou never shied away from displaying his extensive collection. Besides being a successful entrepreneur, he was also a renowned collector.

Could it be some bottom-feeder who couldn't repay his debts hired someone to steal his things?

Maru Denjirou mused darkly to himself.

On the other side of the world, unknown to him, the robed, shadowy Maru Denjirou's face was grim and terrifying. He picked up a katana from the wall, drawing out its gleaming blade.

"Damn thieves, coveting my treasures? I'll make sure you never return!"

"The target has no relevant training background."

"Are you sure?"

"We've gathered information on our target's life over the past decade. During middle and high school, the target had no records of prolonged absences, perfectly fitting the trajectory of an ordinary student."

On the top floor of an apartment building across from the cafe, Shuichi Akai, who had rented the space, listened to new updates from his colleagues on the phone, his brow furrowed.

"To be able to shake off all pursuit in such a short amount of time, he can't possibly be an ordinary kid."

Several photos were laid out before Shuichi Akai, capturing the moment Tang Ze was bumped into at the shopping street that afternoon.

There were shots of Tang Ze turning in surprise, of him raising his fists in a defensive posture, and finally, of him reaching out to help the other person up.

"You've seen the intercepted photos. The target reacted defensively on instinct. His hand and foot movements were coordinated and swift, indicating he has a very solid foundation in boxing or combat sports."

If these photos were shown to Tooru Amuro, he would immediately feel a strange sense of familiarity.

This was exactly Tooru Amuro's combat habit, wasn't it?

"There are no gaps after middle school, so what about before middle school?" Shuichi Akai pondered, asking the question.

"Shu, the target was only eleven or twelve years old at the time..."

"Don't forget, he's the child of the Tang Ze couple." Shuichi Akai switched the phone to his other ear, took out a lighter to light a cigarette, and coincidentally placed the photos in front of him into the ashtray, igniting and burning them as well. "At eleven or twelve years old, the target was still under their care."

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the line before a hesitant voice asked, "Would the Tang Ze couple experiment on their own child?"

"It's not an experiment." Shuichi Akai took a drag from his cigarette, leaning against the window and looking down at the dark street across the way. "The Tang Ze couple started their research precisely because of Tang Ze Zhao.

"If there's anything in the world that best reflects the results of their research, that result would undoubtedly be Tang Ze Zhao himself."