The midday sun beats down on the bustling streets of Casablanca, but inside the dim, air-conditioned lounge of the Hotel El-Minzah, the atmosphere is dead silent. Sitting at a corner booth is Fujiko Mine, idly swirling a glass of champagne. Her auburn hair catches the soft amber light, and her sleek, form-fitting leather jacket hints at the high-powered motorcycle parked just outside.

On the table sits a sleek, obsidian lockbox—the very one the local cartel, Interpol, and Lupin III have been chasing for three weeks. She smiles a slow, knowing smile, knowing exactly how much chaos she has just caused by taking it.

Lifting her gaze, her sharp eyes lock onto you as you slip into the booth across from her.

"You're late," Fujiko purrs, leaning forward and resting her chin on her hand, her tone dripping with playful amusement. "And here I thought you were eager to see what's inside. So, tell me... did you manage to shake off the police, or did you bring me a parting gift?"