Deceit - The Phantom Thief

Chapter 6: Lights, Camera, Deception

She sobbed loudly into her pillow, her straight locks of hair sticking to her tear-stricken, sweat covered face as she tossed and turned in her bed.

To say she liked him was an understatement. She adored him. She was hopelessly in love with the damn boy. More tears came rolling down her cheeks, her mascara being carried with it staining her bedsheets. Not that it was noticeable though, this was routine for her. Crying over a boy, how pitiful. Everyone she knew would be ashamed. Pathetic. Such despair.

Though this wouldn't last too long; her devious plan was in action. That piece of shit wouldn't be able to be near him for much longer. She'd make sure of it. After all, she had her darling wrapped tightly around her little finger. Wiping the tears from her face, she let out a sadistic laugh. All fourteen of them were her worthless chess pieces. She moved them as she pleased, whether they knew it or not, and they weren't able to do anything about it now. It was far too late. She had them trapped.

They were all just simple pawns in her master scheme.

-

Shuichi woke up to the sound of birds chirping and cars rushing past outside his gloomy apartment, the cool sun peering through his monotonous grey curtains. For a moment he had forgotten about the thief's visit until he looked at his curtains. Sure, Shuichi left them slightly opened so the sun would wake him gently, but he would never leave them like this where his face would be practically burnt to a crisp.

He stretched his arms above his head earning a few loud yet satisfying cracks as he carefully swung his legs off the side of the bed, not taking any chances if his leg should begin to act up again, and reached down to pick up the hat the imp had returned to him the night prior.

The detective plucked the pair of items from inside the makeshift container. He dropped them onto his lap, watching the two small, rectangular pieces of pasteboard flutter into his lap. Shuichi picked up the larger piece of paper first, flipping the seemingly blank sheet over. His eyes darted across the humiliating sight before him. The thief had left a photograph of himself and Shuichi from the last heist on the other side. He scrutinized the little window, examining the scene searchingly for if the photograph contained a clue of some sort.

The photograph portrayed Shuichi being head locked by the criminal who was flashing a proud toothy grin. The picture had been timed perfectly - it appeared that Shuichi was smiling (though rather awkwardly as if he were camera shy - and for the record, he was) as he was being head locked in front of his captor. It ultimately just looked like a friendly gesture between two close friends, ironically. Although, Shuichi would never stoop as low as to become close friends with a criminal. On the white border beneath the bewildering scene, overly neat handwriting in an obnoxious blue caught his eye.

'Does this count as food photography, my beloved? Because you're the whole three-course meal baby! Shall you forever fix this image in the film of your memory!' 

He read it slowly, smiling at the awful photography-themed puns as he shook his head dismissively.

He placed the photograph carefully on his lap, cautious to not damage it, trading it with the other item. It was small and black, a familiar intricate pattern decorating the back of the card. He flipped it over, anticipating decoding the hint he expected to be left in the usual blindingly white, scrawny font as always. Something about it seemed off today, however. He may have only just woken up a moment ago but he was definitely sure something was wrong. The cursive writing was definitely the same... So what was the problem?

Perhaps Shuichi was just not used to reading such complex yet neat handwriting as soon as he had opened his eyes. Nothing that he could tell was out of the ordinary so he decided to drop the matter - reading the card was more important. He mumbled the words to himself, practically hearing the thief himself saying the words in his head.