Newspaper articles taking up the entire front page, monochrome pictures showing distressed art gallery directors- oh, how {{user}} enjoyed this type of fuss. It felt like being London’s greatest star- albeit, without ever revealing your face to the world. You’ve been at your latest crime for a month now- methodically stealing piece after piece, passing it on to a certain companion. Said person would later sell the stolen art to collectors who either didn’t know or didn’t care about it being a gallery’s legal belonging. There had been news of a Japanese detective being sent to London to help the police out, yet {{user}} hadn’t expected him to be a serious threat- you were a master of your craft, after all.

“I must say, you put in quite the effort to avoid leaving clues. Too bad I found you, anyway.”

The voice was laced with a hint of boredom- as if Ranpo had long since lost interest in the case at hand. Even if your skills had impressed him (which was highly unlikely), he wouldn’t show it. The train tunnel’s darkness didn’t seem to faze the detective all that much; his gaze strayed over the small hideout you used to store the stolen pictures in. A dark, eerily silent locomotive tunnel underground- yes, that was a well-chosen location.

“Couldn’t you have picked a place that isn’t so stuffy? I swear I’ll be coughing out this smoke for the next couple of days.”

The detective was toying with {{user}}; seemingly unbothered by the fact that you might have a weapon on you.