13:40 PM
Paris, France
Misha, Niccolò, and Chacha—three young pickpockets—trailed behind the woman in the black dress from a distance.
"Misha… We've been following her for ten minutes now… Can we go already?" Niccolò whispered, a bit impatient.
"…"
She was alone. No one was paying any attention to her either…
Misha still felt uneasy.
But finally, she made up her mind.
"She's a young adult. Too old for the 'lost child' trick."
"Got it."
The three nodded to each other—it was time.
Niccolò slowly slipped through the crowds of tourists, inching closer and closer to the woman. He weaved through bodies, pretending to cling to one group, then another, blending in as naturally as possible.
Meanwhile, Chacha and Sally each pulled out a city map and began approaching from the opposite side, eyes on Niccolò. The plan was simple: encircle her.
And then—
Thud!
Chacha walked straight into another tourist's stomach.
"Ah—sorry!"
She looked up. The tourist was an Asian man with deep navy-blue hair.
He lowered his sunglasses slightly and replied in English, "No problem," before walking away.
Chacha shook off the distraction and returned to focus.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Yeah. Do it."
Both girls moved in with the unfolded map, pretending to be lost tourists needing help.
Niccolò would be the receiver. If things went sideways, there'd be no evidence on the girls—it would all be with him. Chacha was the decoy. Misha was the hand.
"Excuse meee~"
Misha and Chacha began the act.
"Miss, miss~"
The pink-and-green-haired woman turned toward them.
Since both girls were small and close in height, it was easy to pass off as a sibling act.
"Yes? What is it?"
Her voice—there was no mistaking it. Total rich-girl energy.
Misha's heart skipped. Flashbacks of her last close call flooded in.
But the show must go on.
The girls closed in. Chacha opened the map and held it out.
"We're lost… We're trying to go here…"
As Chacha played confused tourist, pointing to random spots on the map and mumbling questions, Misha's hand slid quietly beneath the oversized paper.
Her fingers inched toward the white Chanel purse…
And finally—contact.
"And how do we get here from here?" Chacha kept chattering.
The woman didn't suspect a thing.
Perfect.
Misha's green eye glowed faintly. With a swift flick of her fingers, she unzipped the purse and slipped out its contents.
She gave a subtle signal.
Niccolò passed by, and Misha handed off the goods mid-step. He vanished into the crowd like he was never there.
Misha nudged Chacha gently at the waist—mission complete.
"Thanks so much, miss!"
They bowed sweetly and began to walk off.
But then—
"Hey… hold on."
!!!
The woman had called out.
"What is it?" Chacha turned back.
But the woman wasn't looking at her.
She looked straight at Misha.
"…Hope you find your way, girls."
"…"
Phewwwwwwww!!!
Misha let out a massive sigh of relief as the three regrouped beside a street food vendor. Her heart was still pounding.
"I thought we were busted for sure… dammit…"
This was classic Misha. The others knew her well. When she messed up or got spooked, she could spiral—unless she faced it head-on.
"It's fine."
Niccolò patted her shoulder.
"Let's see what we got."
Misha pulled out a small white Chanel wallet—taken from inside the bigger bag.
When they opened it, all three of them gasped.
Dozens of 1,000-euro notes.
Five credit cards.
A passport.
"Holy crap…"
Chacha's mouth watered.
"We could shop till we drop! Even split three ways, it's enough to hire a cab to drive around the Eiffel Tower three times!"
"But we've got five credit cards. How do we split that?"
"Easy," Chacha said. "We each take one. The other three go to Misha."
"What?! But I saw her first!"
"Yeah, but Misha made the call, didn't she?!"
"Come on, I don't mind…" Misha said, trying to diffuse the tension.
"'Don't mind,' huh?"
!?
All three turned toward the voice—belonging to a fourth person.
It was them.
That same damn crew who had shaken them down earlier.
What?! Why were they still here?!
This wasn't even their turf anymore! Misha had been careful about that!
But here they were, bold as ever. The teen girl from earlier stepped forward.
No more running.
The three kids bolted—
But they didn't get far.
The older boys had already flanked them, cutting them off.
"Ugh! What the hell do you want now?! What more do you bastards want?!"
Niccolò snapped and charged one of them.
But it was useless.
He got punched in the stomach and dropped.
"No!!"
Chacha tried to help, but she got pinned. Misha too.
The white Chanel wallet flew from Niccolò's hand—snatched up by the older kids immediately.
"Y'know… that chunky chick in black? Yeah, she was our target. You little shits jumped the gun. That's just low."
"Low?! You've got some nerve! This isn't even your turf!"
"Oh? You didn't hear?"
They grinned.
The three kids turned pale.
"Turns out… the old leaders of this area got busted yesterday."
!?
"Now all kinds of crews are swarming in from other districts. But hey, not your fault you didn't know. Heh…"
"No!!!"
Chacha still tried to scramble after the stolen wallet, but one of the older boys kicked her aside, sending her crashing to the ground.
The three kids trembled, paralyzed by fear.
"We were the ones tailing that woman in the black dress. If you lot were really gonna go for her, you'd have done it already… Bunch of damn cowards. You just wait for us to steal something and then come shake us down. Pathetic."
Smack!
Misha took a hard slap to the back of her head, so hard she couldn't stay on her feet.
"Little brats like you mouthing off to us, huh?"
"Oh? Didn't know thieves came with a pecking order."
A teasing male voice called out from behind the older gang.
"Huh?"
Everyone—Misha, Niccolò, Chacha, and the older gang—snapped their attention toward the newcomer.
He must've been watching for a while. From the way he talked, he'd seen everything.
Who was he?
He wore red. A red jacket. Brown hair streaked with a dull yellow, sunglasses covering his face. He wasn't afraid. In fact, he flat-out ignored the big thug who stepped forward to confront him.
Instead, he pointed—straight at Misha.
"Relax. I'm not here to deal with garbage like you guys. I came for that 'little thief' over there."
"…Misha?"
Niccolò turned to Misha, then back at the stranger.
He came for us? What the hell does that mean? We've never met this guy before!
"You ignoring me, punk?!"
The biggest of the older boys grabbed the red jacket from behind.
But in one fluid motion, the boy in red twisted around, seized the thug's shoulder, and unleashed a barrage of punches into his face at lightning speed.
The big guy didn't even get a chance to block.
His nose shattered by the second blow. The fourth sent him flying into a hedge.
Everyone froze.
Even Misha, Niccolò, and Chacha stared wide-eyed in shock.
The older girl—leader of the older gang—looked like her brain had short-circuited.
Seeing their strongest guy taken out in just four hits, the remaining two gang members lunged at the red-jacketed boy at the same time—knives in hand.
But he dodged.
He struck one in the face, grabbed the other's head, and slammed it into a metal chair with such force it bent like tinfoil.
Then he turned back to the first one and kicked him in the face again.
Misha couldn't speak.
She'd never seen anything like it. And it terrified her more than anything.
She knew she couldn't outrun him. Not even a little.
"Ah-Ahh!! Stay away!"
The last standing gang member—a girl—let go of Misha and tried to run.
Only to be stopped.
A teenage girl with blonde hair, wearing a blue shirt, stood in her path. Her expression was blank, emotionless.
Grab.
The red-jacketed boy caught the fleeing girl from behind.
She knew she was done for. Tried to talk. To plead.
From where they stood, Misha and the others watched it all unfold. Out of nowhere, these two teens had appeared—brother and sister, maybe—and wiped out the gang like it was nothing.
Misha couldn't even guess who they were.
She stood frozen, trembling.
Because both of them had something only she could see—auras.
Auras like hers.
Red. Blue. Pink. Gray. Pale red.
Especially him. The red one.
Misha saw it clearly now—he held the elderly couple's wallet. The one she had stolen.
When did he take that?!
"Hey. Little thief."
"Ah… Urk…"
The three children huddled together, shaking violently.
The red-jacketed boy strolled up to them, flipping the stolen wallet casually in one hand.
Grab.
He seized Misha by the arm and pulled her in close, looking her straight in the eye.
"Two-toned eyes. Green and yellow…"
"…"
"Your name's Misha, right?"
She nodded, avoiding eye contact.
"…Or is it Sally?"
!
Her eyes went wide.
Memories from that place rushed back like a flood.
Only someone from there would know her real name. That it wasn't Misha—but Sally.
Her expression crumbled. Her face drained of color. Tears welled up and began to spill.
"N-no… No! No!!"
She shoved him and tried to run. But it was no use.
Sid Barrett caught her again and lifted her like a sack of potatoes.
"No! Nooo! Let me go! I'm not going back there! Please, I don't wanna go back!"
"Misha!"
Chacha didn't understand what was happening, but she charged forward to help.
Only to be stopped by Jody—who stood in her way, eyes full of warning.
"…Don't," they said without speaking.
"Enough. You're gonna catch a murder charge at this rate," Toshi muttered, placing a hand on Sera's shoulder to stop her from continuing to pound the gang leader.
"You just wait, Toshi. If I ever get my black belt in judo, you're next!"
Thud-thud-thud!
"None of your business. Get lost," Sid growled, shooing Chacha and Niccolò away with a flick of his hand.
They backed off.
Misha kicked and punched, but it was useless. Sid didn't budge. And Jody helped by gagging her with cloth—so she couldn't bite.
"All right. Let's move."
But then—it happened.
Sid Barrett, and everyone around him, suddenly sensed something off.
It was just past 1 PM. Early afternoon. But everything around them… began to dim.
It was like a shadow was creeping over them.
Sid's instincts screamed. Every hair on his body stood on end. His heart pounded.
Something was racing toward them. Something fast. Very fast.
In the blink of an eye, they realized—this wasn't about lighting.
Something was blocking out the sun. From above.
And it was falling straight toward them.
They all looked up—just in time to see it.
A car.
"?!?!!?"
CRAAAAAAASSHHH!!