As evening approached, Navia asked Luna if she wanted to stay overnight in Poisson, but Luna declined.
The reason was simple: someone was waiting for her at home.
"So, first you fought some traitors, and then you disarmed a bomb?" Furina asked, her face a mask of shock.
How long had she even been gone?
Luna picked up a pastry and stuffed it into Furina's mouth. "What's so strange about that?"
"Everything about that sounds strange..." Furina mumbled between chews.
Does Luna attract trouble wherever she goes, just like the Traveler?
"Are you hurt?" Furina asked, concern in her voice.
"Do you want me to check?"
"If you're saying that, you must be fine." Furina blushed slightly, averting her gaze.
After a moment of silence, she insisted, "...Still, let me check you over."
"Then help me undress."
"Change yourself!"
Luna reluctantly unbuttoned her clothes and sat on the bed, allowing Furina to examine her body.
"You said you revealed your identity to Navia? What did she say?"
"She said she liked me."
Furina blinked repeatedly, momentarily stunned.
Revealing your identity leads to a confession of love? Why? She couldn't grasp the logic until Luna explained the full story, and then it finally clicked.
"Did you assure her that Focalors' Plan was foolproof?"
"The Prophecy has ended, the Divine Throne has been destroyed, and everything is set in motion. As long as it's not widely exposed, we should be fine," Luna reasoned.
It's enough for a few trusted individuals to know. Widespread knowledge would be the real trouble.
"That's true," Furina murmured. "If there were any real problems, we wouldn't be sitting here chatting so calmly."
"Exactly."
Furina glanced at Luna's neck, instinctively searching for the red mark.
There was none.
"What kind of 'like' is she talking about?" Furina murmured, her curiosity piqued.
"She said it's all kinds," Luna replied.
"Huh?"
All kinds of 'like'? What does that even mean?
Furina was perplexed, but she couldn't help puffing out her cheeks and pinching Luna's neck firmly.
"Ow, that hurts," Luna protested.
Furina huffed. "You seem pretty happy about it though."
"I don't think anyone dislikes being told they're liked. If you don't believe me—" Luna's tone shifted, and her body moved with it. In the blink of an eye, she pinned Furina to the bed. Before Furina could react, Luna leaned close to her ear and whispered, "I like the adorable Lady Furina."
Furina instantly held her breath, her face flushing crimson. "I-I know! After all, I'm so charming... But get off me first! Your clothes—"
At least put on your outer robe first!
Luna feigned sudden realization. "You mean you want me to take the rest off too?"
"N-no!"
"Furina doesn't want to see?"
"...No."
What's with this awkward silence?
Several days later, at the ruins of Lefebvre Mansion.
Chevreuse shifted her gaze from the map and sketches to the desolate scene before her, thinking, This is it.
This place might be where the Phantom Thief White Cat began, and where the sins of others would meet their end.
There should be clues here about the Phantom Thief White Cat's true identity.
But if I find them...
What should I do then? A fleeting moment of uncertainty crossed Chevreuse's mind, but she straightened her Special Task Force hat and stepped into the ruins.
The Special Task Force had to fulfill its duty.
She, too, had to uphold her own "justice."
Before the final judgment arrived, she first had to uncover the truth.
According to the carriage records we recovered, there's a familiar name listed...
Chevreuse opened her notebook, which contained sketches of the evidence.
The name written in the notebook was "Lynette," along with other victims.
But because the records were damaged, some names were blurred beyond recognition, while others were lost entirely due to missing pages.
One name in particular caught Chevreuse's attention:
Lu. The other half of the name had vanished along with the missing portion of the page.
"...Let's investigate first."
According to the original investigation report, everyone in the mansion had died from wounds inflicted by extremely sharp weapons—except for two.
One was the Head of the Lefebvre House, killed by a bullet through the heart.
The other was a mansion guard, who bled to death from a neck wound inflicted by a sharp weapon.
Chevreuse knew perfectly well that no one in this mansion was innocent.
Servants, cooks, maids, guards... they all knew that a steady stream of young girls were being brought here to have their lives ruined. Yet they had chosen to abandon their consciences, accept the dirty money, and ignore the girls' cries and pleas. They were just as guilty as the murderers and deserved their fate.
"This is it."
Chevreuse crouched down. This was the site of the shooting.
She turned to survey the ruins, pulling out a sketch to compare it with the scene.
"White Cat said she and her family weren't harmed, and that she shot someone, killing them."
"This is outside the Lefebvre Mansion, so they likely didn't drive Lefebvre here."
In other words, they might have stumbled upon him while fleeing.
When he tried to stop them, they ultimately chose to shoot him.
"The basement? No. There were other girls down there when White Cat escaped. They wouldn't just sit around waiting."
"The first and second floors aren't suitable for holding prisoners. That means... upstairs?"
Digging through the rubble, Chevreuse found a dirty "rope."
It appeared to be made from torn bedsheets tied together.
"Clever. Most children wouldn't think of this."
But this was also because no one could help them.
"..."
Chevreuse silently set down the rope, stepped into the ruins, and searched for clues without much hope.
In the end, she found only a torn scrap of paper.
It seemed to be part of a letter.
Bloodstains obscured most of the writing, leaving only a few legible phrases:
"Headmaster... the day after tomorrow... prepare... by the way... ensure proper discipline..."
Headmaster? Chevreuse recalled Phantom Thief White's words: the key phrase was "orphanage."
It seemed they had a long-standing arrangement with a certain orphanage.
Discipline... Chevreuse mused, remembering a particularly disturbing incident from the archives she had translated earlier.
The gist was this: while taking in orphans, a certain orphanage relentlessly twisted their minds and spirits through various methods.
These included mandatory pre-meal praise of the orphanage, constant reminders of the orphanage's hardships, unconditional willingness to sacrifice everything for the orphanage, bans on external books, and strict prohibitions against disobedience...
Later, a mysterious figure attacked the orphanage, reducing it to smoldering ruins overnight.
The children were all safe and sound, eventually transferred to other, normal and safe orphanages. However, the others had all met gruesome deaths.
The fatal wounds were identical to those from the Lefebvre Mansion massacre. All victims had been killed by extremely sharp instruments.
Chevreuse had previously suspected Arlecchino was responsible for the Lefebvre "tragedy." If that were true, the orphanage attack was likely her work as well. And she remembered the orphanage's address.
"...Phantom Thief White Cat may very well have been a child from that orphanage."
In other words, Phantom Thief White Cat may have been denied salvation twice.
The Marechaussee Phantom had failed to find her or the other children in need of rescue. The Court of Justice's Maison Gardiennage only arrived after Arlecchino had already destroyed everything. And Chevreuse remembered her father saying that the Court of Justice's higher-ups had issued an order at the time: "Hunt down the serial killer responsible for these horrific crimes."
"Even after all this, would you still expect anything from us, White Cat...?"
Chevreuse murmured to herself.
No, she wasn't expecting the Court of Justice or the Maison Gardiennage.
She was expecting the Captain of the Special Task Force.
That is, Chevreuse herself.
"...What did you see in me?" Chevreuse asked softly.
She didn't believe she was any different from the other law enforcers who stood their ground.
It was merely a matter of different styles.
But to Phantom Thief White Cat, Chevreuse was special.
Only Chevreuse could capture her.
Chevreuse scanned her surroundings, silent. Finally, she forced her hand to relax, dispelling the anger and helplessness that had been gripping her.
The crumpled note fell to the ground.
She lifted her foot and stomped down hard, then turned and walked away from the ruins without looking back.