"Right now. I'll take you to your room first."
Lucas stood and walked toward the door, Skye hurrying after him.
They left Devil May Cry and stepped into the neighboring building. Only then did Skye realize where she was.
"You live here?!" Her jaw nearly dropped. "I've read about this online—this is the most expensive apartment complex in New York! They say it's the most luxurious, all European classical style, decorated like Versailles Palace itself. Are you serious? You actually live here?"
Her mouth kept running as she ogled the paintings along the corridor and the antique furnishings that looked like they belonged in a museum.
Lucas, however, didn't think much of it. Internet rumors exaggerated things. Versailles Palace? Please. If Versailles was filled with weirdos from all walks of life—including petty thieves—it'd be a very different story.
Still, one thing was now certain: the so-called "thief" he'd seen last night had come from this building. They were one of his neighbors.
"Here's your room."
Lucas opened the door to a unit on the second floor, right next to his. The entire east wing was empty—he'd intentionally left it for George and Gwen's family. With Skye now here, she could take one of the rooms, and there'd still be plenty left.
"Wow~~~"
Skye's eyes went wide. The room was fully furnished, styled like a palace chamber. Besides the bathroom, it had its own kitchen, a normal-sized living room, a master bedroom, and even a study. It was the kind of home she'd always dreamed of.
"I can really stay here? Rent here must be insane! Boss, are you secretly some rich tycoon?"
Lucas shrugged. "Don't worry. This whole building belongs to me. No rent, no utilities."
"!!!"
That revelation nearly broke her brain. The most luxurious apartment in New York—owned by her boss?!
"Bring up your luggage later. Here's the key. My room's next door. The rest of the wing is empty."
He tossed her a key. Skye caught it, then froze again.
The key itself was golden. Who the hell makes keys out of gold?! She even had the urge to bite it, but her last shred of rationality stopped her from embarrassing herself.
"Now, come with me," Lucas said, heading for the stairs.
"What for?"
"To catch a thief."
They stopped at a fourth-floor apartment. Lucas pressed the doorbell. From outside, no one else could hear it—part of the building's design to avoid disturbing neighbors.
The door opened, and Lucas instantly recognized the man standing there. This was the figure from last night's footage.
"Mr. Norman? What brings you here? Please, come in."
The man, Mr. Dyke, invited them inside politely.
Lucas didn't waste time. "Mr. Dyke, we'd like to ask—was it you who broke into the shop downstairs last night?" He pulled up the surveillance footage on Skye's laptop and showed him.
Dyke froze. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. A moment later, he gave a defeated sigh. "Yes. It was me."
"But why?" Lucas asked, frowning. "You picked the lock, but you didn't take anything. Why break in at all?"
Dyke disappeared into his bedroom and returned with a file, handing it over. "This is why."
It was a medical record. Dyke suffered from kleptomania—a compulsive urge to steal. He didn't do it for money. What he craved was the thrill. He would sneak in, wander around, and leave without taking a thing.
It wasn't something he could control, nor was it curable. The best doctors could do was offer therapy to manage the compulsion.
Yet Dyke wasn't some lowlife. He was a manager at a prestigious New York securities firm—a high-value professional. If word got out about his condition, he'd be ruined instantly. He begged Lucas not to call the police and promised to make amends.
Lucas decided not to press charges. First, Dyke hadn't actually stolen anything—unless you counted tossing his trash. Second, the man's lock-picking skills were… frankly incredible. Devil May Cry's door wasn't a normal lock—it was a custom one, so complex you couldn't even cut a spare key for it. Yet Dyke had cracked it in under a minute. That was saint-level thievery. Lucas figured he'd be useful someday.
After repeated assurances from Dyke, Lucas and Skye left—with a promise of Dyke's on-call locksmith services as a "compensation."
Back at Devil May Cry, Skye busied herself hauling her luggage upstairs, while Lucas sprawled at his desk, legs up, eyes closed.
"System, task should be complete now, right?"
[Beep beep beep~~ Congratulations, host, on completing the task: Recruit an Assistant. Reward granted: The Blessing of the Moogle Sage-King. Effective immediately~]
As the system's voice faded, a transparent dome shimmered into existence, enveloping the entire building. At the same time, a white figure appeared beside the trophy display case.
It was a plump, snow-white creature, with drowsy eyes, a round red nose, tiny bat-like wings, and a pink pom-pom bobbing above its head. In one paw it held a golden scepter; a crooked crown rested on its head.
It was unmistakably a Moogle—Final Fantasy's most iconic mascot, soft and adorable.
Legends said Moogles couldn't normally be seen by mortals. Yet here it was, plain as day.
Lucas rushed over, circling it excitedly before reaching out to poke it.
"Kupo~ Kupo~~"
The Moogle swatted his hand with its scepter, chittering indignantly.
Lucas chuckled. "What, you don't want your own master to touch you? You're just a mascot. Come here, let me hug you!"
He scooped it up into his arms. Its silky fur was as soft as a kitten's. Lucas practically wanted to pet it bald.
"Kupo kupo!!"
The Moogle flailed, kicking and struggling, trying to wriggle free. Lucas only hugged it tighter.
"Kuuu~po!!"
With a sudden shout, a burst of invisible force blasted Lucas back, nearly knocking him off his feet.
The Moogle swung its scepter, which glowed with rainbow energy and transformed into a hammer.
Boom!
The hammer slammed into the ground. The floor didn't break, but the shockwave was real enough to make Lucas' hair stand on end.
He forced a sheepish grin. "Uh… sorry. My bad."
"Kupo."
Satisfied with his apology, the Moogle let it go. With a wave of its scepter, it conjured a plush cushion, plopped onto it, and nestled comfortably. The cushion floated atop the display cabinet. Clearly, this was its new perch.
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