As the Malice Points were deducted, a peculiar sensation welled up inside him.
Russell focused his mind. It was as though an invisible, hair-thin thread extended from his fingertips, passing clean through the heavy door panel.
At last, it coiled itself precisely around an antique vase sitting atop the entryway cabinet at the far end of the corridor.
With the faintest flicker of intent, those unseen hands seized the vase and tilted it — just slightly.
The rest, he was happy to leave to Newton.
"Crack!"
A sharp, clear shattering rang out, cutting through the silent corridor with startling clarity.
"What was that?!"
"Go and check!"
The footsteps outside the door instantly quickened, rushing off in the direction of the sound.
Seizing the moment, Russell pushed the door open and slipped into the corridor — his silhouette dissolving like a wisp of smoke.
More useful than he'd expected, he noted to himself.
He moved silently toward the princess's chambers. With the System's map guiding his way, he didn't even need to memorise the route — he simply followed the crisp three-dimensional markers straight to his destination.
Along the way, he worked the same trick several more times, using Phantom Hand to set off a series of small, carefully timed disturbances and send the guards and servants scrambling in every direction.
The whole affair unfolded with effortless grace, like a game of hide-and-seek played against opponents who never stood a chance.
Before long, he arrived at the room adjoining the princess's bedchamber — a small, unoccupied sitting room.
Russell stepped inside and eased the door shut behind him.
The other side of the wall was perfectly quiet, but there was no question: Louise was in there.
He stepped back two paces and reached into his coat, drawing out that familiar little sphere — cool and smooth against his palm.
It was time to put an end to this long wait.
Without a moment's hesitation, he dropped the Twilight Shroud onto the floor — he didn't even bother watching the mist bloom outward before his figure simply vanished from where he stood.
"Crack!"
The sound of the vase shattering rang out, unnervingly sharp in the stillness of Buckingham Palace.
Louise's heart leapt straight into her throat.
On instinct she held her breath, ears straining to catch any sound — any sound at all — out of the ordinary.
But there was nothing.
The room remained as silent as a tomb, save for her own heartbeat — thundering like a drum, impossibly loud in her ears.
Wind. The chime of the clock. Everything just as it always was.
The last stroke faded.
Nothing had happened.
A great, hollow wave of disappointment crashed over her and pulled her under.
Louise slowly bowed her head, golden hair spilling forward to curtain her expression.
Her shoulders trembled faintly, as though she were holding something back.
"Liar..."
The tiniest, tear-threaded complaint slipped out from between her fingers.
But just as she sank into that forlorn, stood-up misery —
A lazy, unhurried voice she had never heard before drifted out of the corner of the room, soft and without any warning at all.
"Speaking ill of someone behind their back? That's hardly becoming of a young lady, is it?"
The words landed, and Louise's entire body went rigid.
Slowly — as though she couldn't quite believe it — she lifted her head and looked toward the source of the voice.
There in the shadows of the room, at some point she could not account for, a figure had appeared.
He leaned against the great bookshelf with easy, unhurried nonchalance, both hands tucked into his coat pockets, as if he had been standing there for quite some time.
Moonlight fell through the window at an angle, catching the edges of him, tracing a silver outline along the black of his coat.
That signature, expressionless white mask gleamed in the dim light — strange and inscrutable as ever.
"Mori... arty?"
The girl's voice carried a barely perceptible tremor as she spoke the name aloud — the name that had occupied her thoughts for an entire week.
"Good evening, Princess Louise Edwards."
Russell smiled as he greeted the little princess before him.
"Just as I promised in my letter — I've come to take away your most precious treasure."
Louise stared at the figure before her in disbelief. Her heart, which had only just begun to settle, promptly began to race again.
"You — how are you even here?" she couldn't help but ask.
"Does Her Royal Highness not wish me to be here?" Russell asked, with a smile.
"If that's the case, then I'm afraid I've presumed too much. I'll see myself out right away — I wouldn't want to disturb Your Highness's rest."
He said it lightly, and then actually turned and started for the window, as though he truly intended to leave then and there.
At the sight of that, Louise panicked.
"N-no! That's not it!"
She called out at once, and even shot out her hand to catch hold of the hem of Russell's coat.
"I was just... a little surprised, that's all. I was wondering where you'd turn up — I never imagined you'd already be inside my room."
Russell paused mid-step. Beneath the mask, the corner of his mouth curved ever so slightly.
He turned to look at the girl before him — she barely came up to his waist — and then his gaze drifted to the neatly arranged morning newspapers spread across the desk.
"I had no idea Your Highness was keeping such a close eye on me. I must say, I'm quite flattered."
His tone carried just a trace of teasing.
At that, Louise's cheeks went immediately red. She released his coat on instinct and clasped her hands behind her back, suddenly self-conscious.
"I was just... curious about what the papers were saying, that's all," she murmured in her own defence, her voice growing smaller with each word.
"After all, I've never seen a thief so... so brazen before."
"Is that so," Russell said, with a noncommittal little smile, making no move to puncture that transparent excuse of hers.
"Speaking of which — shouldn't it be bedtime by now? Staying up this late is a dreadful habit, you know."
He settled into the chair by the writing desk and looked across at Louise.
"I... I couldn't sleep."
Louise sat on the edge of the bed, fidgeting slightly.
"I was afraid that if I fell asleep, I might miss you entirely."
Russell gave a quiet laugh.
"Your Highness — do you know why they call a thief a thief?"
He spoke as he rose from the chair and began to walk toward where Louise was sitting.
"Wh... why?"
Louise blinked, watching with wide, curious eyes as the Phantom Thief drew closer.
Then she felt a pair of hands settle gently on her shoulders — and before she quite knew what was happening, she found herself being eased slowly down onto the soft surface of the mattress.
"Because a thief's very favourite thing to do is —"
Russell spoke softly, and then reached for the two corners of the duvet and drew it up over the girl, tucking her in so that only a small, fluffy head poked out from the top.
"— take things away while no one's paying attention. If you stay wide awake, there's nothing for me to steal, now is there?"
"But you could just take it now..."
"That's called 'taking,' my dear — not 'stealing.' Taking and stealing are two entirely different things."
Russell corrected her.
"So for the sake of a smooth night's work — could I ask you to cooperate, just a little, and be a good girl who goes to bed on time?"
"I'm not a child," she protested in a small voice.
"Until you're of legal age, you are," Russell said, as a matter of simple fact, and tucked the corner of the duvet neatly around her.
"But... but I can't sleep." There was the faintest wobble of grievance in Louise's voice.
"Will you stay with me a little longer?"
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