The afternoon stretched lazily in Kaito Fujimoto’s office. Outside, Kyoto’s traffic murmured faintly, drifting in through the open window and mingling with the persistent song of cicadas. Inside, the air smelled of reheated coffee and aged paper. On his desk, a pile of folders—some with closed cases, others still unresolved—seemed to stare at him, a constant reminder that peace never lasted long.

Among those papers lay the file of the Bloody-Lipped Killer. Kaito leafed through it without conviction, more out of habit than necessity. The photographs of the victims, the clinical coldness of the reports… it was all still there, etched into his memory like a wound that refused to heal.

The phone rang, pulling him out of his thoughts. He answered immediately.
‘Fujimoto.’

‘Kaito, it’s Reiko.’ His boss’s voice left no room for discussion. ‘I need you here right now. I have a new investigation for you.’

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes still on the papers on his desk.
‘What kind?’

‘Not over the phone. Come to my office.’

The line went dead without a goodbye. Kaito sighed, pushed his chair back and stood up. If Reiko said “urgent”, there was no way out.

The agency building was unusually quiet when he arrived. The sound of his footsteps on the polished floor echoed down the empty corridor. Reiko was waiting, standing with her arms crossed and a thick envelope on her desk.

‘You’ve been rather busy lately,’ she remarked as he walked in. ‘But I need you to take this case.’

Kaito took the envelope and opened it. Inside were crisp photographs: museum rooms perfectly orderly… except for the glaring absence of their most valuable pieces.

‘Burglaries,’ he said, almost with disdain.

‘Highly skilled burglaries. All in Kyoto museums. The thief gets in and out without leaving a trace.’

Kaito set the photos down on the desk.
‘Then let the police investigate.’

At that moment, the door opened and Aiko Nakamura appeared. Her hair was tied back in a high ponytail and she carried a folder under her arm. Her expression was serious, but her eyes shone with determination.
‘Kaito, you have to take it,’ she said bluntly. ‘I’ve been tracking her for months and I’ve never managed to catch her.’

He tilted his head.
‘The thief’s a woman?’

Aiko nodded.
‘Fast, meticulous… and knows how to vanish.’

Reiko pointed to a calendar on the wall, several dates marked in red.
‘She follows a pattern: she steals every 26th of the month, always at midnight. Today’s the 26th of September. The next target: the National Museum of Modern Art, Kyoto.’

Kaito stared at her in disbelief.
‘And you already know where? Why not just put a squad of guards there and be done with it?’

‘Because the guards don’t know what to look for,’ Reiko countered. ‘You two do.’

Kaito folded his arms, reluctant, but finally gave in.
‘Fine. Let’s have a look.’

Reiko led them to the analysis room. A board covered almost an entire wall, crammed with maps, photographs and notes connected by red string. Five points marked the museums already robbed; a sixth, circled in red, indicated the target for that very night.

‘All the burglaries follow the same pattern,’ Reiko explained. ‘And each time, the cameras are hacked before the hit.’

Kaito leaned over the museum blueprint, studying the corridors and access points.
‘This isn’t improvised. The thief knows the systems and the layout.’

Aiko, flipping through some notes, pointed to a handwritten line.
‘In the last robbery, the glass display case wasn’t damaged.’

‘Internal keys,’ Kaito deduced. ‘Or an access no one else knows about.’

That afternoon, Kaito and Aiko headed to the last museum the thief had targeted: the Kyōto Kitayama Art Gallery, near the Higashiyama district. The building stood elegant, with a pale stone façade and dark wooden doors, surrounded by well-kept gardens.

Inside, the echo of their footsteps mingled with the solemn hush of the place. When they tried to enter the paintings section, a uniformed guard blocked their way.
‘Area closed to the public,’ he said curtly.

Aiko produced a badge and held it up without hesitation.
‘Federal Police of Japan. We need to enter immediately.’

The guard stiffened, glanced at the badge, then at them. Finally, he stepped aside.
‘Five minutes,’ he warned.

As they walked in, Kaito muttered under his breath.
‘Since when do you work for the Federal Police?’

‘I don’t. It’s fake.’

Kaito shot her a sidelong look.
‘That’s illegal.’

‘And useful,’ she replied with the faintest smile. ‘Relax, Fujimoto.’

He snorted, but let it go. The tension between them eased slightly, though Kaito’s eyes kept sweeping the surroundings.

The robbed hall was immaculate. The display cases gleamed, not a scratch on them. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant, mingled with the soft scent of polished wood. There were no visible fingerprints, no signs of forced entry.

‘Not a single print,’ Kaito murmured. ‘She’s a professional.’

Aiko, crouched near a corner, was examining the floor intently.
‘Come here,’ she called, lifting her hand for him to approach.

In one corner, a bronze statue rested on a sturdy base. The floor around it bore a faint circular mark, as if it had been moved recently.

‘You see it?’ she asked.

‘Yes. Something big was moved from here not long ago.’

Together, they heaved the statue aside with effort, careful not to attract the guard’s attention. Beneath it, a wooden panel fitted perfectly with the surrounding tiles.

Kaito crouched, felt along the edges and lifted it gently. He took out his torch, switching it on to reveal a narrow tunnel descending into darkness. The air wafting up from below was cold and dry.

Aiko’s eyes widened in disbelief.
‘I can’t believe it! This explains how she gets in and out without being seen.’

Kaito held the torch, thoughtful.
‘She’s a professional. She knew exactly what to look for and how to do it.’

For a moment, they simply looked at each other, both aware they’d just found the key to everything.